Page 116 of Winterveil

“How do you know they were real?”

Julian looked to Nadiya for corroboration, but she had sunk down in her seat and was staring at the floor. Seeing her so cowed made another flare of anger go through him. As he glanced around the room at the other two, also silent and in various states of bewilderment and indignation, the absence of someone suddenly became conspicuous.

“Where’s Crispin?” Julian asked.

“He’s perfectly fine,” said Deckard. There was an unsubtle hint of amusement in his voice. “Enjoying his reprieve after providing an excellent . . . service.” His eyes lingered meaningfully on Julian. “I’m glad to see that you two became so close.”

Heat rushed to Julian’s face. Only Klaudia seemed to notice his sudden embarrassment, and her eyes flickered.

“Unfortunately,” Deckard went on, “there has been an . . . unforeseen obstacle.”

Nadiya sat up straight, stiffening. “What is it?”

“Our simulation technology is still in its infancy—relatively speaking—and the recent updates that made possible your time in Traumstadt have, in essence, overloaded the system. You may have noticed some glitches during the final moments of your mission.”

The floor shaking under them as they stood in the room with the cube, the lights flickering. But that was all part of the physical world—or so Julian had assumed. How would a system error affect something so . . . substantial?

“Glitches,” Giselle repeated, her voice still low. “Do you mean those men, in the tunnel?”

Deckard looked, for a moment, taken aback. It was the first time Julian had ever seen him even remotely unnerved. Turning away from Giselle, he merely said, “There were myriad issues, none of the details worth elaborating upon. The fact remains that your mission must be delayed until we can get the system back online.”

“Why would the simulation technology matter,” Klaudia began, “if your plan is to drop us into Soviet territory?”

“It is all related, trust me,” said Deckard, whose vagueness was beginning to dramatically irk Julian. “As it is, I have another mission for you.”

“What?” Giselle’s face was white with horror.

“Nothing torturous or life-threatening, I assure you. Since the four of you are now clandestine officers, important pieces in the game, it is time for you to familiarize yourself with the players.” Julian didn’t miss the way he used pieces and players simultaneously, putting them in the former category. “The CIA maintains a . . . close relationship with the CEO of Auric, and with his help, I’m certain we’ll be able to resolve the issues with the network swiftly.”

Auric. The most profitable and influential technology company of the modern age, responsible for everything from gaming apps to encryption software, and now apparently weapons as well. Much political hay had been made of the CEO’s association with the House Committee on Science, Space, and Technology. Paparazzi photos frequently showed him dining with the committee chair, Bill Brooks—a dubious choice for the role, given that he was an eighty-four-year-old retired football coach.

But, clearly, the CEO was now aiming higher. CIA clearance. Presidential access, if he continued on this course. It almost made Julian laugh to think of Auric’s CEO as a glorified IT guy.

“An evening with Auric’s CEO sounds pretty torturous, actually,” Nadiya said icily.

“He’s a perfectly reasonable man.”

“Then reason with him yourself,” said Klaudia. “What do you expect us to contribute?”

“Your charm, of course,” said Deckard, with a thin smile. “And this isn’t a favor—it’s recompense. Your actions, Ms. Shimonova, contributed to the breakdown of the simulation. You should have followed orders.”

Klaudia didn’t reply, but the icy mask resettled over her face.

“What actions?” Nadiya cut in. “Taking the L-pills? Why did you bother giving them to us, then?”

“I don’t think you’re interested in the technological minutiae. What matters is that, in this instance, you do in fact owe me one.” Subtly, Deckard curled his lip. “The CEO is hosting a gala in New York. I don’t think it’s too much to ask that you attend, and make yourselves charming and agreeable.”

“That’s what we’re supposed to do, then?” Julian let out a breath. “Pad some already oversized tech bro’s ego?” He didn’t mention that, between Nadiya’s bristling hostility and Klaudia’s coldness, Deckard probably could have selected a better team for the task.

“It will be to your benefit as well,” Deckard said. “It’s always good to have friends in high places. Make the CEO feel valued, essential. And perhaps the day will come when he will repay you in kind.”

“You’re already asking us to ask him to fix your server.” Klaudia’s gaze was searing. “I doubt he’ll let us bank another favor.”

“We’ll see,” said Deckard.

In the silence that followed, Julian felt almost hopeless. The gala he could survive—he had plenty of experience, even if it meant sidling up to the CEO—but were they really going to be sent into enemy territory to extrajudicially kill a German scientist? Nothing about his life or his stint at Valeran had prepared him for this.

Or maybe it had been staring down Deckard’s men in that dark tunnel, the sound of the bullet ringing in his ears.