Songs for Perri

by Nancy Radke

  "No. But I want to make you harder to spot."

  "All right." Reluctantly, Perri went into her own bathroom and began to prepare her hair for coloring. It dulled her sufficiently that she was no longer a bright beacon, and this time Nolan nodded acceptance.

  "Those agents died after they contacted Owen. I want to make it harder for whoever's out there to spot us. We'll wash it out afterwards."

  Walt gave her a kiss and wished them well, locking the connecting door as they left.

  Nolan had changed into jeans and a large floral printed shirt, wildly colored. He sent Perri ahead of him, following her down the stairway, then took a separate taxi to the restaurant.

  It was still open. Perri was immediately shown to a table. With her hair color changed, she wondered if Owen would spot her. But when the waiter handed her the bill, it had instructions written on it along with the amount.

  Go into the women's room and wait.

  Perri handed some money to the waiter, who thanked her and left. Rising, she saw that Nolan was eating at another table. Making no sign to him, she walked towards the women's room.

  While still in the hallway she was intercepted by the woman she had earlier passed the camera to. She had entered from another door and motioned Perri through.

  It opened into the owner's own apartment, it's red tiled floor accented with a colorful tapestry. A single lamp burned. Owen greeted her with a quick hug and led her over to the wall. From a small viewing slit, they could see into the restaurant. "Which one?" he asked.

  She pointed Nolan out to her brother, and soon watched the waiter take him his "bill." He paid and left the restaurant.

  After a few minutes, the apartment’s outer door opened and he followed the waiter inside. "This is Joe...uh...Nolan Nyle. Nolan, my brother, Owen," Perri introduced them. At last, she had done what she had come down for. The final weight was lifted from her shoulders. They could take it from here. She was out of it.

  Relieved, she sat down in a chair they offered her. Owen introduced Nolan to Alvaro, then the two Americans sat at the table to talk over their plans.

  They were speaking in English and Perri heard Nolan say that he wanted to send Walt and her out on a flight tomorrow night, to get them clear. She realized that although Walt was boss, he probably wouldn't get his wish to see Owen first, after all...Nolan sounded very definite on that point.

  Alvaro stood near them for awhile, then drifted over to talk to her in Spanish.

  "Your brother is a good man. He speaks often of his father. But never of you, until recently. He says you are somewhat of a dare-devil."

  "Not really. I just never would admit I was scared of some of the things he wanted me to do. I didn't want him to stop doing things with me."

  "Ah. And this young man, Nolan?"

  "He's just helping."

  "An agent?"

  "I suppose so." How much information should she give out? Certainly none about Nolan's other identities. He had said only Walt and his manager knew. And now her of course. She must be careful what she said.

  "Your brother got me out of Cuba. He knows how to do the impossible." His eyes reflected his gratitude. He continued, giving some of the details of the escape, almost pathetically effusive in his praise of his rescuer. He must have had a hard time in Cuba, staying one jump ahead of their secret police.

  "How did you contact him?"

  "A message to a man who knows things. He arranged for us to meet."

  Nolan approached them. "Out you go, Perri. I'll follow, but don't look for me. Just head on back to your hotel."

  "Where are you staying?" Alvaro asked.

  "A small place," Nolan said before Perri had time to speak. "You wouldn't know it." If Nolan called that small, she wondered what large was to him. He had probably performed in some pretty large establishments.

  Alvaro looked kindly at her. "And your father too?"

  "He's—”

  "Separate quarters," Nolan interrupted. Honestly, he was as bad as Walt. She wrinkled her nose at him and he just grinned. "Bye."

  "Thanks, Perri. See you soon," Owen said, urging her out.

  "Bye." She waited for the woman to open the door and check to see if the hallway was empty, then Perri left, threading her way through the diners and into the darkness outside.

  The last time she had walked this way, the youth had knocked her flying. He was dead, but were there others? She remembered him vividly and listened as she walked, alert to the sounds around her. She heard footsteps behind her.

  Was it Joe/Nolan? The steps didn't come any closer and soon she was on the main street and into a taxi. Back in the hotel she went straight to her room.

  A knock sounded on the connecting door a few minutes later. Opening it, she saw...Nolan, his eyes dancing when he saw her struggle with the name. "Just think of `no one.' Can I come in?"

  "Yes. I'm glad you can keep yourself straight," she complained. "It's hard."

  "That's why I didn't tell you sooner."

  "I can see why. Its hard enough for me to remember names when a person has only one set."

  "It was hard not to tell you...very hard. That first day, when you struggled with tears at the cafe. I thought you were afraid."

  "I was thinking about Mom," she explained.

  “I realized that later. At the time, I almost told you I was with Walt. But I'd already decided that was Joe's job. Still, your tears were hard to resist."

  "I felt very alone."

  Her tone was somewhat accusing. Closing his eyes for a second, he murmured softly, "I'm sorry."

  Perri sighed, then shrugged slightly, attempting to dismiss the trials of the last few days. The moments of fear and doubt were over. It was downhill all the way. "How's Papa?"

  "Sleeping like a baby. This jaunt—even the waiting while you and I did the leg work—has been hard on him."

  "I'm glad it's over!" she enthused. Having to be careful all the time, of what you said and did, became a terrific strain.

  Nolan corrected her while he chose a comfortable place on the wall against which to lean. "It isn't. ‘It's not over till it's over,’" he quoted.

  Perri nodded. It was such a simple statement of fact, it was ridiculous; yet many had ignored the truism and paid dearly for it. "I guess that's right."

  "In this business as much or more as in sports."

  "Then let's hope it will end soon."

  "Right. I don't enjoy changing identities all the time."

  "Do you have to do it often?" His characters fascinated her. Each was so different from the others...all except Joe and Nolan. Nolan was not that much different from Joe, making it much harder for her to keep them separate.

  "Not as much as this time. But I've entered a country as Hugo, done undercover work as Joe or Nolan, then left as Hugo again. I prefer Joe for undercover work, for I wear no disguise for him. If I'm caught, I'm not wearing a wig or contacts."

  "I see."

  "Personality-wise, I'm more Hugo than Joe," he emphasized, with a purposeful, probing look as if trying to size up her reaction.

  "Oh?" she hedged, understanding fully why he felt this information so important.

  "So...I sort of...wondered how you felt about him. If Hugo walked though that door, how would you greet him?"

  "Like this," said Perri, impishly lifting her smiling lips to his. He let go of Nolan's character with the swiftness of a tension-coiled spring and she was once more in Hugo's arms...strong, demanding arms that offered the love she had been seeking all her life.

  Here, finally, was a man to match Owen. A man worth loving...who would not fail her. Who would not willingly leave her.

  Her emotions exploded at his touch and she could feel the pounding of his heart, the quickness of his breathing, revealing how deeply he also was moved. "Don't squeeze so hard, dearest," he whispered painfully; and she remembered that, as Joe, he had taken quite a beating today.

  Gently, she moved her arms up around his neck. "I'm sorry. I didn't
hurt you too badly, I hope?"

  "No...I stopped you soon enough. Not that I wanted to. I had to."

  "Hugo said...I mean Joe said— Oh, dear!"

  He grinned, with that flash of mischief that lit up his eyes and was prevalent in all his characters, looking not at all sorry for her as she struggled to get things straight. "What did we say?"

  "About a question you hadn't asked me. You know."

  "Ah...that one." His eyebrows flicked decisively. "You think about it, love. I'll ask you when this is over."

  "Promise?"

  "Promise. Now get some sleep. I'll join Walt. We've got a lot of arranging to do tomorrow."

  "Hugo?" Her question was quiet, tentative.

  "Yes, dear?"

  "I'm so happy, I don't think I can sleep," she admitted. Everything was resolving itself; her world was rosy once more. Somehow, she believed things were well in hand, no matter what Hugo said.

  Lifting her chin with one hand, he planted a quick kiss on her lips. It was weird to hear Hugo's voice—for he was using it—and feel Hugo's kiss and open her eyes and see Nolan's light hair and blue eyes. No wonder she kept getting mixed up.

  "Try. It's been quite a day. I think once you relax you'll find yourself asleep instantly. I'm going to secure your hall door and leave the connecting one open...just to be safe. Walt's had his rest; he can be on guard tonight."

  "Okay," she agreed, and yawning, headed for bed. She really shouldn't have worried about sleeping, for as Hugo had predicted, she was asleep almost before she lay down.

  The next morning Nolan changed back to Joe. He called the airport, trying to get two tickets on the afternoon flight. It went to Mexico City and required a long wait before they could make connections for Phoenix, so he booked them on an early flight Saturday morning. Monday, Owen would fly back with the band using Hugo's identity, while Joe took Alvaro out by car.

  Perri was ready to wash the brown out of her hair, but Walt wouldn't let her. "Wait till you're home," he said. "You'll be less easy to see at the airport."

  The defector, Alvaro, had brought out a fairly large submarine tracking device that was difficult to move without attracting notice. Nolan had looked at it at the restaurant and figured he could fit it into one of the fake amplifiers the band carried with them for such purposes.

  "It's already out-of-date," he confided to Walt, "but I don't suppose he knows it. It was probably the latest thing when he was in Cuba and he brought it with him when he defected, as a token of his good faith."

  "So it's no use to us?"

  "The way technology moves, it could be over five years behind. It took him a couple of years to make contacts and bribe his way to where Owen could get to him."

  "Ah, well...one can't have everything. We'll let the experts look at it anyway. There could be something they can learn from it, to help our men. He's brought it this far, we might as well take it the rest of the way."

  Deciding it would be better to stay out of sight, Hugo ordered room service—a large breakfast—brought to his room and later Perri ordered a large lunch brought to hers. They visited, played cards and watched television until it was time for Donegal's show.

  Hugo left to get ready while Walt and Perri stayed behind. He was to return as soon as the show was over, get them, then pick up Alvaro at a spot designated by Owen not far from the restaurant. After he left, Perri heard a low chuckle from her step-father.

  "What's funny?"

  "You two. You think because I'm deaf, I can't see?"

  "Oh!" Hugo had been flirting with her all day...whenever Walt's back was turned. But there were mirrors in the room, and Perri's face was overly expressive.

  "I told him before you came down to attend strictly to business. I made him promise—” He stopped, as if wondering if he had said too much.

  "What?"

  "To guard you like he would his own sister. With the emphasis on sister. Now I catch him—”

  "He's been the very soul of honor."

  "Good. He’d better have been. It was my idea for him to act like he was in love with you. I warned him about carrying the act too far. Didn't want you hurt...yet we had to get you to believe it enough for it to look real." He looked at her anxiously. "He did explain, didn't he?"

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  "Yes, Papa." Pride answered for her. He couldn't hear the ice-like quietness or the tremor that had invaded her voice. "I think I'll pack now."

  "Good idea. Get some sleep, too. We'll be flying out early."

  Unable to breathe, Perri retreated into her room. She shut the door behind her. She had to be alone. Walt's words hadn't hurt her. They had destroyed her.

  Her mind reeled. Hugging herself tightly in anguish, she staggered over to the bed. There she sank to her knees on the floor, shoving her head hard against the side. Her bones ached.

  Above the pain, a whirlwind of thoughts kept demanding "why." Why hadn't she considered the possibility that Hugo's love might be part of his act? Why had she been so blind? Now she knew what had been holding him back.

  Oh, my love! Why didn't you explain? I gave you my love, my trust.

  She knew the answer even as she asked the question. "It ain't over till it's over."

  It wasn't over. He hadn't even told Owen where he could find his father. But that didn't make the answer any easier to accept.

  It was just a job to him. One which included making a stupid woman think she had fallen in love with him...and him with her. He could win an Academy Award any day.

  The acting, the lying, was all part of the job. That's what agents did. That's why she was never going to marry one.

  Springing angrily to her feet, she threw her suitcase on the bed and flung it open. She had to move, to do something, or her emotions would tear her apart. With shaking hands, she folded a shirt.

  There was a quiet tapping on her outer door.

  It didn't sound quite the way Joe/Hugo knocked.

  Wishing there were one-way peepholes in the doors, she crammed the shirt in the case. "Who is it?"

  "Anna." Her voice sounded strange, higher than normal. "I've those pictures I promised you."

  Pictures...of Hugo. Did she really want them now? Perri asked herself. Anna had made them at her request, so she needed to take them. Besides, it might be the only photos she'd get of him. She still loved him more than she'd ever imagined loving a man.

  "Great." Perri forced a happy lift into her voice as she swung open the door. "I can pay—” She froze.

  Anna wasn't alone. With her were two strange men, one clamping the frightened woman tightly to him. Both were armed.

  Spurred by fear, Perri tried to slam the door shut, but they kicked it sharply inward, knocking it out of her hands.

  "I'm sorry!" Anna sobbed hysterically as she was forced into the room. "They said they'd kill me!"

  The younger one grabbed Perri's arms. A clean-cut man in a light blue suit, he had been sitting next to her in the restaurant...last night! Black hair, mustache, short beard. Did he know anything? Had he already killed Owen and Alvaro?

  He yanked her backwards, at the same time placing a large cotton pad over her face.

  Panicked, Perri fought to get away. She tried to hold her breath; but the need for air made her gulp convulsively and all went black.

  She awoke to daylight, sick and nauseous from the chloroform, gagged with a handkerchief. Perri fought both the sickness and hysteria. If she threw up, she could choke to death.

  It wasn't over!

  Perri willed her body to relax, especially her throat and stomach. Rejecting the gag reflex, she forced herself to breathe deeply through her nose. It took all her mental power to subdue those first few seconds of screaming panic.

  Once in control, she glanced stealthily around. She lay on the floor of an empty room; feet tied, hands bound securely behind her. Twisting her head, she could get a worm's eye view of the room. Balls of lint and small chunks of concrete and other dirt littered the red tiled floor.
<
br />   In one corner a pile of old cans and rubble looked as if it had been hurriedly swept there. A broken chair lay on its side near the door.

  The room smelled of dust and old concrete. There were no photos, no personal items lying around. It looked like one of the many abandoned dwellings found throughout Mazatlan.

  It was probably morning. The angle of the sun coming in the barred window showed she was on the east side of the building.

  Although alone, she could hear voices from the other room. Was Anna here, too? Had they found Walt?

  She had closed the door between her room and Hugo's. Walt couldn't have heard the men. And if they hadn't checked the door, they wouldn't have known he was in there.

  But she knew. She also knew Hugo's secret. She'd have to feign ignorance.

  If only she didn't know those things! Why hadn't Walt moved to another hotel?

  A knock on the outside door ten minutes later brought a new voice. A man's, carrying authority. It was familiar. Speaking Spanish with a Cuban accent.

  Concentrating hard, Perri tried to place it. She had heard it before...but speaking English. Not Spanish. The change was enough to throw her off.

  They talked among themselves briefly. Perri could only catch a few words. Walt and Owen. Alvaro. Scorpion.

  The Scorpion! He was involved. For the first time since waking, Perri's spirits plunged all the way into the grim despair of hopelessness.

  Death and the Scorpion came together.

  A door closed. Moments later, the two men who had kidnapped her entered the room.

  Roughly they untied her. Slumping, trying to feign unconsciousness, she received a hard slap across the face. It made her senses reel. Perri open her eyes, wary of another blow.

  The taste of blood flowed in her mouth and her jaw. How had Joe taken it?

  Joe and Owen and Walt. The men she loved. Nothing would make her betray them.

  Terror sent adrenaline pounding through her, bringing her to a fighting alertness. The despair dropped as a stubborn determination took its place. They were not finding out anything from her. Period.

  But if they beat her like they had beaten Joe, could she keep quiet? She had to keep telling herself that talking—telling them anything at all—would not lessen what they would do. If she didn't say anything, she was better off than if she began to talk. Either way they'd beat her, so she might as well stay quiet.