Code Name: Dove

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Pitching her voice low and making sure she caught his gaze squarely, she delivered her rehearsed opening slowly in English. “You must forgive my partner.” She paused, waiting for him to take the lead.

“He isn’t your husband?”

“Oh, no.”

“And why is it I must forgive your partner?”

“He’s had a great day professionally and decided your wife is the most lovely woman in the room and no matter how much nerve it took, he was going to ask to dance with her.”

Nova focused on König’s body, on matching her every movement to his. He must be made to feel, with strong impact, a harmony between them.

“Your partner is mistaken. It’s true my wife is lovely, but I believe I am presently graced with the room’s most beautiful woman.”

She chuckled, remembering to keep her voice low. “You’re kind.”

König’s hand tightened slightly on her waist. Probably an involuntary response, or maybe a good sign that he was intrigued. He said, “Somehow I’m sure you must be told often that you’re beautiful.”

They glided through several more turns with König watching a point in the air over her shoulder. Then the penetrating blue eyes found hers again. “Your accent is American. Are you living in Berlin?”

“No. We arrived yesterday.”

Intentionally, Nova stumbled out of rhythm, sagged against him and clutched him tightly. “Oh, dear.”

He stopped and, courteously supporting her, searched her face. “Are you all right?”

“Just embarrassed. Could we move off the dance floor? Just for a moment.”

“Of course.” He slipped a supporting hand under her arm and she clung tightly as they navigated between the swirling dancers and off the parquet.

She put one hand to her temple while retaining a good grip with the other on Jean Paul König’s arm. “Just a bit of dizziness.” She looked into his eyes and smiled. “I’ve had a slight ear infection. I thought I was over it.”

His look was one of sincere concern. He filled the silence with “You say you and the young man are partners. What is your business?”

“Not a business, really. I’m a freelance photographer. Joe’s the team’s writing half.”

“And you are here to photograph something?”

“Yes. A week or two more here in Germany should wrap it up.”

“Sounds intriguing.” He encouraged her with a nod.

“It has to do with GATT agricultural subsidies.”

König’s brow wrinkled in an appropriately baffled response. Like a good angler, she waited to let his curiosity tickle his mind. “And just how does the raging debate on the General Agreement on Trade and Tariffs come to interest a photographer?”

“I assure you, only through a very indirect route. A year ago a newspaper article left me feeling as though I was about to be robbed. The article was about the GATT agreements and how much land the European Community countries might lose to urbanization at the upcoming Brussels meeting.”

Interest flashed in the blue eyes. “Not a very photogenic subject I should think.”

“My obsession is nature. I found myself very upset over what my government wants, what Europeans want and what I think would be the best for Mother Nature.” Nova had carefully prepared this line to make him feel at once that their interests were aligned.

“And what do you think?” he asked.

“That’s partly what our project is about. To let me see for myself. We’ll do a photo essay on what the countryside and farmlands look like now and then juxtapose them with examples of what Europeans might end up with if this agreement goes through.”

“Have you drawn your conclusion yet?”

“I think European farmers can’t begin to compete with Americans and other countries. But is the solution to abandon them and industrialize? If the EC gives another inch, any trace of a European pastoral way of life is finished.”

He gave her a single approving nod. “My thoughts exactly.”

Yes, indeed. Of course they were his thoughts, exactly.

The waltz was over, the music stopped. Bad timing. She felt a tightening of alarm in her chest. König must not escape just yet. His gaze flicked through the thicket of bodies on the floor. Cardone was positioned so König could see that his wife was happy. The orchestra began a two-step. Cardone swept Ilse König into another dance.

Nova grasped the opportunity. “My dizziness is gone.”

“Good.” He raised his free hand, palm up in invitation.

They stepped back onto the dance floor and slipped into the new rhythm. König leaned away a bit and said, “What is it exactly you’ll do while you’re here?”

“Joe’s so pleased because he’s arranged for me to meet with your agricultural minister. Mr. Meyer can give me a rundown on endangered scenic spots.”

König snorted. “I’m not very impressed with your choice for a source.” Rudolph Meyer was a thorn in König’s side, a man the CIA knew König detested.