Page 102 of Winterveil

Giselle paused. Klaudia stared down at the latest arrangement of letters. Being Russian, they held no significance to anyone else, but all four of them leaned over the table in tandem, holding one collective breath.

Klaudia picked up the pen. The very air seemed to ripple in anticipation. She took the sheet of paper upon which Giselle had drawn the houses, and marked one of them with a star. Then, in careful, blocky letters, she spelled out S-A-T-O-W.

Only Nadiya reacted, a gasp slipping from her mouth. Giselle and Julian looked at Klaudia in bewilderment.

“There’s no equivalent to the English W in Russian,” Klaudia said. “But this is the way his name is rendered in the Russian alphabet. I saw it during Hauke’s subtitled speech.” She gestured toward the television in the great room.

“Whose name?” Giselle asked.

“Dr. Satow,” Nadiya said. Her pulse was skipping. “He was an East German doctor who defected to the West. Then, a couple of weeks ago, he was kidnapped by the Soviets during a visit to his hometown.” Which she was now certain the whole simulation was modeled after.

“The article,” said Julian. “Dr. Iver forwarded it to the entire school. I knew there was some reason he wanted us all to see it.”

“I remember now.” Giselle’s eyes clouded briefly. “ ‘Every effort will be made to retrieve Dr. Satow, both for his own safety and for the recovery of the sensitive information he possesses.’ ”

“Shit.” Julian let out a breath. “Shit.”

Nadiya looked at Klaudia. There was a terrible, sinking feeling in her stomach. “So this has been Deckard’s mission for us the whole time.”

Klaudia’s expression was bleak. She opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, Crispin spoke up.

“The music will mask some of your words,” he said, voice low, “but it’s not a perfect method. For more . . . important conversations, you might want to consider finding another place to meet.”

“Right,” said Julian. His eyes flickered a moment with consideration. “Surely, Deckard hasn’t bugged all of Traumstadt.”

Crispin shook his head silently.

“Great,” said Nadiya, without enthusiasm. “Then let’s just go—”

“No,” Crispin blurted. “Don’t say it out loud. They’ll be able to track you.”

Right. Nadiya glanced toward Klaudia, who looked uncharacteristically lost in thought. She was considering how to gently prod her when Julian spoke up.

“I have an idea,” he said. “Crispin and I will go and you can meet us there.” He looked pointedly at Klaudia. “I’ll leave you a message.”

Thirty-Four

Spring 2037

Camp Peary, Virginia

While the others hurried around the lodge in silence, preparing for their trek out in Traumstadt, Klaudia stared at the still-flickering television in the great room until her eyes burned. As if she might somehow be able to force it to give up the rest of its secrets.

Despite Deckard’s admonishment, she had continued to view this mission as a game. But what was the prize? Increasingly, it felt like one she didn’t want to win. Maybe it was less a game than a stage play, the four of them puppets jerked along by Deckard’s strings. Or a test of something—but she still didn’t know what.

Julian and Crispin left the lodge quickly, and without another word. Once they were gone, Klaudia glanced around the great room, trying to see where Julian might have left his enigmatic message, but then Nadiya appeared at the edge of the mezzanine. Leaning over the railing, she beckoned Klaudia upstairs.

Klaudia climbed the stairs and followed Nadiya into their room. Giselle was standing beside Klaudia’s bed, a scrap of paper in her hand. She made a gesture to indicate it had been left on her pillow. She handed the note to Klaudia.

It was in Julian’s handwriting—a neat and formal cursive, perhaps the result of a rigid, traditional private school education.

Klaudia—

Play the Archangel Variation this time, sweetheart.

Nadiya and Giselle both regarded her with confused frowns. Klaudia read the words again, and on the second pass their meaning lifted from the page. A riddle of his own, a clever one. She brushed her thumb idly over the word sweetheart and hoped the flush rising to her face didn’t show.

Downstairs, Klaudia studied the map of Traumstadt, letters and numbers dancing in her mind. If she had Giselle’s talents, she would have been able to match them up in a heartbeat. As it was, it took her almost a full minute.