What she did next was impossible, yet somehow she did it.
Sophie set the radio down and picked up her fork. She kept her forearms pressed as hard as she could against her body to control the shaking that threatened to give her away. The Commandant could not suspect that the patient on his way to the infirmary was special. She continued to eat her lunch, ignoring Jaros’ disapproving gaze.
“Crossword puzzle clues?” he asked contemptuously.
The food in her mouth tasted like wallpaper paste, and it took a superhuman effort for her to swallow it down. “You think that I tolerate too much familiarity from my staff.” She sipped from her water bottle. “You may be right. I admit to having a weak spot for this man. His age and experience, you know.” She hoped the idea of honoring her elders would resonate with the Commandant’s traditional view of the world.
It seemed that it did, as he returned to his food without further comment. When the walkie crackled again, she wiped her palms, slippery with sweat, on her jeans so she wouldn’t leave telltale handprints on the radio.
“Sophie, do you have ten minutes to join me at the infirmary?” Will asked. He was holding his composure well, considering the bomb that had just been dropped. She took a quiet cleansing breath and shoved her raging emotions back down inside.
“Can it wait a bit, Will?” She made her voice sound casual, a bit bored. “I’m eating lunch with the Commandant. I’ll be over in about half an hour. Unless it’s a real emergency?” Please hear me, Will. Please understand what I’m saying.
“Nothing that can’t wait thirty minutes. I’ll let Dr. Shah know you’ll drop by later.”
Sophie gave silent thanks to Will, and turned back to the wretched food in front of her.
“Now, where were we, Commandant? The distinction between problem and opportunity…”
-
Sophie walked out of the administrative building, shrugging into her flak jacket. Her two favorite Soviet guards lounged against the building, enjoying a quick smoke. They crushed out their cigarettes and climbed into the Jeep with her. Both of them, she noticed with a tight smile, held onto the door handles in anticipation of a wild ride.
Eight minutes later – a new personal record – they arrived at the infirmary. She jumped out of the vehicle and paused.
“A moment, gentlemen.” She ducked into the portable toilet near the building, and prayed they couldn’t hear her as she vomited up her lunch. Then she sat down on the only available seat and ran through a series of breathing exercises to regain control. She didn’t think it was quite the environment her meditation instructor had had in mind when teaching these techniques, but one worked with what was available in the field.
Sophie’s babysitters chose not to enter the infirmary. They’d suffered the wrath of Anjali once for entering the building with their guns, and they had no desire for a repeat performance. Of course, the infectious pneumonia might have played a role in their reluctance, but Sophie’s money was on Anjali.
She donned mask and gloves, and entered the building. Will stood right inside waiting for her. Once the door closed behind her, he stepped in front of her to block her path.
“No farther. You know the risks if he sees you.”
But Sophie could no longer hear him. Michael was here.
She didn’t need to see his face. She didn’t need to hear his voice. She never had. His presence washed over her like a wave. Her eyes opened; she hadn’t even been aware that she’d closed them. Will’s expression above his mask was startled.
“Sophie?”