Evil Deeds (Bob Danforth 1) by Joseph Badal Page B

floor. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Papa happier.”
    Katrina followed her mother from the doorway to the living room, where her father watched Andreas draw circles in a coloring book.
    “So, when are you going to get married, Katrina?” her mother said. “You need to give us a real grandchild. We’re not getting any younger.” Katrina’s father looked over at her, waiting for her answer.
    Katrina stared at her little Andreas. “Mama,” she said, “Andreas is my son. He is your grandson . ”
    Her parents glanced at each other, worry and shock etching their features.
    Katrina ignored the looks. They couldn’t understand how she felt. She walked over to Andreas. “Today’s Saturday,” she said. “The carousel in Lenin Park will be running. Do you want to go to the park?”
    Andreas jumped up, a gleeful smile on his face. “ Da , Momi ,” he said.
    His position as cultural attaché at the U.S. Embassy in Sofia provided Andrew Morton with cover. He was, plainly and simply, a spy. Pausing in signing the last few letters due to go out in the diplomatic pouch, he looked at his eight-year-old daughter, Erica, leafing through a stack of papers on his secretary’s desk in the adjoining room.
    Morton leaned back in his chair, stretched his arms over his head, and groaned. So much work left to do. But he had promised Erica he would take her to ride on the merry-go-round. He stood and reached for his jacket. Erica skipped into the room, a piece of paper in her outstretched hand.
    “What’s this, Daddy?” Erica said. “What’s ‘abducted’ mean?”
    Morton took the sheet of paper from Erica, looked at the photo on the flyer, and glanced at the information printed above and below the photo. He feigned interest, wanting his daughter to think he found her discovery exciting.
    Pointing at the photo on the flyer, he said, “It means someone took this little boy away from his parents.” He saw the sudden look of fear in Erica’s eyes. “I’ll tell you what,” he said, “let’s take this with us.” He winked. “We’ll run our own investigation. Maybe we can find this little American boy and return him to his family.”
    “Okay,” Erica said. “Can I hold the picture?” she exclaimed, clapping her hands.
    Morton laughed. Kids and their fantasies. “Sure, honey,” he said.
    Katrina watched little Andreas try to chase down the soccer ball some older boys were playing with in the park. He would get right back on his feet whenever one of the bigger boys knocked him down, but still Katrina began to fear he might get hurt. She rushed into the melee on the field to rescue him. After brushing dirt from his clothes and face, she took his hand and set off toward the carousel.
    She bought a ticket from the operator. “My horsey, my horsey,” Andreas said. He ran to the black horse with a red saddle. The carousel horse stood frozen in a half-rearing pose; its painted eyes seemed wild with rage. It was just like her little boy to pick the fiercest of all the carousel animals. Katrina lifted Andreas onto the horse’s back.
    “I can get on myself, Daddy. Here, you hold the picture,” Erica Morton said, passing the kidnapping bulletin to her father.
    Morton nodded to Erica and stood next to a group of other parents while she ran to the merry-go-round. He watched her mount one of the horses.
    The merry-go-round began to turn, slowly at first, its calliope music chiming loudly. It picked up speed and Erica’s long brown hair streamed behind her while she exhorted her horse to go ever faster. Lost in the pleasure of the moment, Morton almost didn’t notice something picking at his consciousness. Words shouted by a child other than Erica. English words. Out of place in Sofia.
    “Giddyup, horsey.” The carousel spun around and the words came again. “Giddyup, horsey.”
    There! A little black-haired boy, three horses behind Erica, called over and over, “Giddyup, horsey.”
    Morton looked around, trying to locate