Page 104 of Winterveil

“And who knows what Deckard still has in store for us?” Julian added. “Your memory could turn out to be exactly what we need.”

Giselle grimaced, but she didn’t argue.

“As for Nadiya,” Klaudia said, “there’s always a benefit to having a weapons expert.”

“Except that Deckard didn’t leave us any weapons,” said Nadiya.

“He didn’t leave me my Amex, either,” Julian said.

“But that doesn’t mean you’re not still a billionaire?” Giselle’s brow furrowed.

“Well, actually, depending on what formula you use to calculate net worth—”

“Julian,” Nadiya said, “shut the fuck up.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Klaudia said. “If the CIA wants money, they can have it. They can print it themselves at the Federal Reserve, if it comes to that. You have something all the money in the world can’t buy. Your name. Your family. And what your family stands for.”

“That sounds like soft power,” said Julian. “Morgenthau wouldn’t approve.”

Klaudia gave him a withering look. “Don’t pretend you’ve read Morgenthau.”

“I’ve read . . . some of him.”

“Think about what was included in your file,” Klaudia continued. “A family tree. A history of the positions held by your ancestors and relatives. You represent the spirit of American supremacy. Call it soft power if you want, but there’s always an element of spectacle to international relations. Our enemies have to believe we can make good on our threats.”

“No offense,” said Nadiya, “but I don’t think the USSR is going to be deterred by a Rolex collection and a wine cellar full of Dom Pérignon.”

“I’m more of a Macallan man.” Julian inclined his head. “But you have a point. The most important position ever held by a Joyce-Young is treasury secretary. Currently my claim to fame is impeachment at eighteen. Hard to see that intimidating the politburo.”

“We’re still missing information,” said Klaudia. “I suspect we’ll need to finish the mission before we find out the full truth. But we have to keep it in mind. Being in the dark is dangerous.”

“Then let’s finish the mission,” Nadiya said. “I’m getting tired of this artificial pine smell. I feel like I’ve been test driving new cars at the dealership for three days straight.”

Julian and Giselle laughed. Klaudia bit her lip on a smile.

A moment passed, the wind rustling the trees overhead. Klaudia tried to keep her mind from spiraling further into confusion and despair. The others were all counting on her, relying on her, and she was still cobbling together partial answers, half-finished plans.

She realized with a start that Julian was watching her intently. She must not have been able to keep the chagrin from her expression, because his face softened with concern. Then he turned to Crispin and said, “Can’t you give us a hint? Where should we go next?”

Crispin’s shoulders rose around his ears. “I don’t know.”

“Come on,” Julian said. “The faster we get through this, the better. Then we can all go out for drinks.”

There was something charged and meaningful about Julian’s words, something only Crispin seemed to understand. He wavered. And then, slowly, he nodded.

“Okay,” he said quietly. His gaze flickered past Julian to Nadiya. “Deckard did leave weapons.”

Nadiya tensed. “What?”

“It’s called a dead drop. It can be dangerous for a clandestine officer to carry a weapon on their person. You would need a reason as part of your cover story . . . so it’s typical for another officer to leave a weapon in a hidden location for you to safely retrieve when the time comes.”

“Great,” said Nadiya. “So where are the weapons hidden?”

Crispin shrank back. His lips pressed together, and he said in a frankly miserable tone, “I can’t tell you.”

Nadiya threw up her hands and stalked to the other end of the clearing. Giselle let out a breath and Klaudia stifled her own sigh of frustration. But Julian remained composed.

“Think of it,” he said to Crispin, “all the debauchery we can get up to once the mission is over and you’re off Deckard’s leash.”