Page 84 of Winterveil

“Cyrillic or Latin?” Klaudia asked. When Giselle’s brow furrowed, she added briskly, “Russian or English?”

“Russian,” said Giselle. “At least, I think.”

Klaudia rose and riffled through the files on the table. She found a blank sheet of paper and held it out to Giselle. “Write it all down. You do remember it, don’t you?”

A sedate gloominess descended over Giselle’s face, replacing the frenzy of her tears. “Yes,” she said quietly, and marched over to Klaudia like a convict to the gallows.

Nadiya remained at a distance, arms folded over her chest. She and Julian watched each other for a moment, her gaze growing increasingly reproachful.

“Anything to contribute?” she asked. “Or would you need access to your checking account in order to do that?”

Julian had read her file. Her parents had been killed in some horrific, mysterious double murder, and Dr. Iver had taken her in as his ward. She was a soldier; her file had been sure to emphasize that—as accomplished with a rifle as a handgun and unmatched in tactical combat. Yet even now, with her glaring daggers at him, Julian found it all difficult to reconcile.

“I’ve been managing fine without my Amex,” he replied coolly. “But who are you without your weapons?”

Nadiya’s eyes flashed. Before she could reply, the voices from the table rose in volume, and they both looked up.

With a pencil, Giselle had sketched out Traumstadt’s residential street, and if he’d had any doubts about her ability, they were now put to rest. Her drawing was impeccable, with artistic qualities like shading and crosshatching, every detail accounted for from the arrangement of cobblestones on the road to the vines twisting up the trellises. Momentarily, Julian was too stunned to speak.

Klaudia was watching her carefully, though she had kept a somewhat awkward degree of distance between them. It was not the first time Julian had noticed that Klaudia was uncomfortable with anything more than the most cursory physical contact. He had never even seen her hug Jane.

“Good,” Klaudia said to Giselle. “Now mark down the letters on each house.”

Giselle obeyed silently, scratching her pencil against the page.

“That’s impressive,” Julian said, unable to disguise his awe.

Nadiya kept a distance from the table, too. “Do you think it means anything?”

“Hard to say yet,” Klaudia replied. “But I don’t think Deckard included anything in this simulation without a good reason.”

Very faintly, Nadiya winced. “There is something else. . . .”

Klaudia lifted her gaze.

“When we were walking,” Nadiya went on slowly, “I bumped into one of the holograms. But I didn’t—I didn’t go through him. He was solid.”

“That shouldn’t be possible,” said Klaudia, though her tone was uneasy.

“I know. But it was. Giselle saw it.” She glanced at Giselle, who hesitated a moment before nodding. “I fell down, and he . . . he just gave me a dirty look and walked off.”

Klaudia’s brows drew together. “Did he have a bowler hat on?”

“I think so,” said Nadiya. “Why?”

“The same man approached us on our way back to the lodge,” Klaudia said. “He was rambling in Russian about rude American tourists. I suspected he might mean you.”

Nadiya grimaced. “Shit.”

“Julian threw a snowball at him.” Klaudia said this as though she were offering comfort.

“Thanks for selling me out,” Julian said. “What happened to cooperation at all costs?”

Nadiya rolled her eyes. Then, quickly, her annoyance faded and she asked, “Did the snowball hit him?”

“It looked like it did,” Julian replied. “I didn’t think it was possible, but I suppose Deckard has tricks that Dr. Iver doesn’t. Klaudia?”

Klaudia regarded him for a moment, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. Then, instead of answering, she said, “Would you go upstairs? I left some of the files in my room. Crispin can help you carry them.”