The woman in the cloche frowned. “Hmm?”
“I said,” he repeated over the din, “that our friends have abandoned us.”
“Oh.” The barest of smiles flitted across her face. Her eyes went back to watching the room.
Will sighed. He tried again. “May I join you?”
She didn't say anything. He joined her. She frowned.
Marsh returned, looking puzzled and then startled when he saw Will sitting with her.
“It's just that my dashing companion and I—” He indicated Marsh with a little flourish of the wrist. “—have been discussing the most peculiar matters. Cosmic matters, no less. But now that's finished and a little light conversation would be the perfect aperitif before supper.”
She cocked an eyebrow at them both, sizing them up.
“Oh, I know, he isn't much to look at.” Marsh glared at him. The woman had a musical laugh, like a carillonneur practicing the scales.
Will continued, “But that's his modus operandi, you see. Lulling people into a false security. He's quite the devil, I assure you.” He tapped the side of his nose. “The PM's right-hand man.”
“Does every champion of the Crown blush so freely?”
“I see.” She nodded slowly, lips pursed in exaggerated reverence. “How impressive.”
“William Beauclerk.” He offered his hand to her across the table.
“Olivia Turnbull.” She brushed his fingers with a perfunctory tug. Will slumped in his chair. It took a blunt rejection to sting so sharply. Typically he was more successful with the fairer sex. Typically he usually didn't sound like such a toff when he tried.
The brunt of her gaze fell on Marsh, eyebrows arched in amusement. “Does your crimson companion have a name?”
“Raybould Marsh. Um.” Marsh held out his hand. She took it. “Just Marsh, if you prefer.”
“Liv. Delighted.”
“Likewise,” said Marsh, looking poleaxed again.
three
Spring and summer brought a host of changes to the Reichsbehorde during the run-up to war. Nobody called it that, of course, but Klaus could see how the little things added up into one coherent picture.
It had begun soon after Spain, when training regimens across the board went to live-fire exercises twice per week. And the training periods with nonlethal combatants doubled in length. “For endurance,” said the doctor.
Around the time that greenery returned to the surrounding forests, the Reichsbehorde received its first-ever visitors from the Oberkommando der Wehrmacht. But the officers from the military high command didn't come for demonstrations. They came to speak with Gretel. Throughout the spring and well into summer, she attended numerous meetings with the doctor, Standartenfuhrer Pabst, and the officers from the OKW. She never revealed what went on in those closed-door sessions, but Klaus suspected they were strategy discussions. Why else would the Reich's military leadership spend so much time with a precog?
Gretel had been meeting with the OKW off and on for two months when the training regimens underwent more upheaval. Another first: the members of the Gotterelektrongruppe started training in teams, no longer as solo operatives. They trained in pairs, trios, and quartets, practiced for every scenario imaginable.
And then—as if the writing on the wall weren't clear enough—an OKW officer took the Twins away on the first day of August. That implied the Reich anticipated a need for rapid ultrasecure communications. No doubt one of the Twins would be ensconced in OKW headquarters for the duration of the war. The other sister's destination was a popular topic of speculation in the mess hall.
“I hear she's going to France,” said one of the mundane troops. They tended to sit together at meals, segregating themselves from Doctor von Westarp's more abrasive children. But Klaus preferred their company to Reinhardt's bluster, and they liked him more than most.
A second man shook his head. He speared a mushroom, popped it in his mouth, and said, “England.”
Klaus slid aside to make room for Heike. She took a seat next to him, nodding her thanks. They shared a connection through their powers, which although different had similar applications. Heike and Klaus both trained for infiltration, observation, and assassination. Recently they'd begun training in tandem. He took a small measure of comfort in the knowledge that Heike's mastery of her Willenskrafte didn't yet equal his own.
None of the mundanes objected to her company. Conversation faltered for a moment while they admired her. When she wasn't invisible, Heike was endowed with a head-turning beauty. The portrait of Aryan perfection. And Heike was easy company. She even ate quietly.
A third soldier picked up the conversational thread. Around a mouthful of potato, he said, “England? That's ridiculous. She'll be in Moscow by the end of the week.”
Crumbs flew as he spoke. Klaus smelled cabbage and sausage on the man's breath.
“If you're that curious,” said the second man, “you know who to ask.” A mischievous grin spread across his face. “Tell you what. I'll give you a Reichsmark for trying. I'll even double it if Gretel gives you a straight answer.” The soldiers laughed.
“And maybe she'll gamble with us later. We'll make a fortune!” They pounded the table in their laughter.
“I like playing cards.” Gretel stood in the doorway, dinner tray in hand.
The laughter stopped. The soldiers fell silent, suddenly fixated on their dinners. Their heads inched lower over their plates when she approached. Heike had been ignoring the mundanes, but Klaus felt the quiver of tension from her direction as well.
“Can my brother play, too?”
The trio of mundanes abandoned their meals. “Have to inventory the armory,” muttered one. “I'll join you,” said another. In moments they were gone.
One of Gretel's long braids tickled Klaus as she settled beside him. She took the fork and half-eaten piece of cake one soldier had left behind. “Mmm. Chocolate.”
She didn't, Klaus noticed, have any food on her tray. It was stacked with magazines. On top was an old issue of
“Why are you reading that? That's old news.”
“Every girl dreams of her wedding day, brother.”
Klaus finished off his stew before it cooled. He nibbled on Gretel's purloined cake while talking with Heike.
“They're changing the obstacle course again.” Klaus could breeze through obstructions easily enough. But other tasks, such as navigating while inside a wall, still presented challenges.
“Yes,” said Heike. She rubbed her shoulder. Klaus recognized the dark bruises on her clavicle: wax bullets. She hadn't graduated to the live-fire exercises yet. “And they've hung bells on everything.”
“I think we'll get deployed soon,” he said.
Heike shrugged. “Some of us.” After that she fell silent again. Her meal consisted mostly of salad with just a little bread on the side. Heike ate greens at every meal.
Klaus and Gretel were finishing the last of the cake when Reinhardt entered. He smiled when he saw Heike. “Ah! There you are, Liebling.”
Heike deflated. She unleashed a long sigh as she set down her cutlery.
Reinhardt crossed the room to lay a hand on Heike's shoulder. “I'm disappointed. I'd hoped that to night we'd dine alone together.”
