Thursday turned the page to theNew York Times’ Modern Love column. “Eat. It will help,” she ordered.
Sterling filled herself with her dream breakfast. MostlyBergkäseand Brie. She was a woman of simple needs. She just wanted to be held, given multiple orgasms, and fed cheese.
Evidently, Frau Thursday was here to meet all her needs, except the sexual ones.
“I heard you were looking for me. I’m impressed, Dear. Then I heard Madame’s people were looking for you,” she said, folding her paper and smoothing it on her lap.
“Frau Thursday, did you drug me?”
“Oh, since we’re alone, call me[Redacted].”
“Okay,[Redacted], did you drug and kidnap me?”
“No, but my gents took out the oafs who tried to. Seems Weiss heard you were there.”
“Why’d you save me?”
“I’ve been a guest here for half a century. That means I knew Serafina. I’ve owed her a favor for a long time.”
“Wow, fifty years, seriously?”
“The Kaisersuite is special to me, it distinctly suits my needs.”
“Erotic or occupational?” asked Sterling.
“Why not both?” said Frau Thursday, an alluring twinkle in her eye.
“Does your work involve late-night meetings at the French consulate? And that clunky old tape recorder Fernando found in the tunnel with the microphone aimed across the street?”
“Clever girl.Indeed, certain parties contract me to observe certain activities. I’ll have you know, that ‘clunky’ old recorder was the most sophisticated technology of the late sixties. Invented by Sergei Sprava, the original Mr. Right.”
“Why do I know that name?”
“His father designed the Orient’s bar radio. Sergei installed the device Fernando found in 1968, before the Kleinmann family bought the Orient. Unfortunately, we lost Sergei soon after, felled by the silent killer.”
“Assassins?”
“No, dear. Heart failure. Sergei was as fond of bacon grease ashe was of machine oil. The only thing he loved more was me. I met him in my mid-twenties, and he was twice my age. One of many reasons our relationship was covert. We eloped in ’67, the year he built the device. It requires a trained hand. Mine, specifically,” she said, wiggling her wedding ring, locked beneath her arthritic knuckle. “The device was protected against tampering by a thermite charge, which I gather you discovered the hard way,” she said, narrowing her gaze in accusation.
“Whoops,” said Sterling.
Frau Thursday laughed gently. “Whoops indeed, dear. But it’s okay. By destroying an irreplaceable invention, you inadvertently released me from a burden I’ve borne for over five decades. My employers kept me active all those years for that device’s sake, and I appeased them out of loyalty to Sergei. Now I’m free.”
“Wow. Do I say ‘Sorry’ or ‘You’re welcome’?” asked Sterling.
“The latter.”
“Then you’re welcome. What was so special about it?”
“Sergei’s inventions were built to last and immune to radio-frequency sweeps.”
“How?” asked Sterling.
Frau Thursday laughed. “I’d rather not bore you, dear.”
“Oh, please. I adore a bit of nerdy talk, darling.”
“Well, if you insist. Sergei’s gadget was a marvelous little treasure,” she said, showing Sterling her exquisite gold band. “My ring conceals a condenser microphone with a nickel-coated diaphragm tuned to my voice. The recording device lies dormant in the tunnel until I’m nearby and give aspecificvocal command,” she said with a cheeky laugh. “A certain trill I make during moments of intense pleasure. Sergei’s little joke. He’s gone now, so that’s where my companions come in.”
