The Sudoku book had seventeen maps in it now.
Martha sat in the economy class seat of a Swiss Air flight, a cup of Earl Grey-decaf balanced on her tray table, the book open on her lap. To the tired businessman beside her, she was a sweet old lady doing number puzzles. In reality, she was cross-referencing satellite imagery printouts she’d folded inside the dust jacket with hand-drawn notes on troop movements she’d decoded from a pirated Alpine geology forum that was, decidedly, not about geology.
Sophie, wedged into the window seat, was pretending to sleep. Martha knew she wasn’t. Her breathing was wrong.
“You’re thinking too loudly,” Martha murmured, not looking up.
Sophie cracked one eye open. “I’m thinking about how you told Mum we’re going to a quilting retreat in Zurich.”
“We are going to Zurich.”
“Gran. There’s a tactical vest in your carry-on. I saw it when you were in the bathroom.”
“It’s a very structured gilet.” Martha turned a page. “Now be quiet. I…
