But he knew they weren’t having luck yet. Much as the Europeans considered the United States to have limitless resources, it wasn’t true. Especially when one considered that their greatest resource—their people—weren’t terribly sympathetic to the czarist cause, what with their love of democracy. Perhaps they viewed the soviets as morally superior.

They shouldn’t, though. They wouldn’t, if they realized that socialist “freedom” involved killing anyone who held a different view. That was no freedom. That was the worst form of tyranny—the kind that lied about what it was.

Could he help them see that, somehow?

Be still, and know that I am God.

The familiar echo made him huff out a breath, curl his fingers into his palm around his ring. Why did you create this mind in me, Lord, if you don’t mean me to use it?

Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord.

Yes—and he prayed the Lord would hurry. Because he was mighty eager to see what it would look like. Maybe He would use the Americans or the British. Maybe He would simply smite the socialists with His fist. Maybe—

A flash of red-gold caught his eye. Someone moving toward the OB. Someone he recognized even from up here on the roof. She was in her nursing uniform but with her kerchief removed from her head, allowing that flash. As he watched, Lily rounded the building, aimed for the back.

Curious. Visitors never went to the back. And what would she be doing here? Her father was out of the office all day, hence why Clarke was fielding the questions from his colleagues. Zivon meandered around the roof’s raised edge, slowly enough that he’d look casual. But quickly enough that he could verify if she did indeed go inside.

He could just barely see her from up here. But he did. He saw her pause to speak to Hall. Saw Hall hand her something. Saw her nod. Then the admiral climbed into his automobile, and Lily disappeared into the OB’s back door.

Zivon eased back a step, mind clicking through it all. All the times he’d seen her here or near here when she had no reason to be. All the times Hall had mentioned having a photography expert.

The conclusion was logical. Undeniable. The only surprise, really, was that he hadn’t put it together sooner. Because having seen for himself her skill with retouching and developing photos, how could he think anyone but Lily Blackwell would be Admiral Hall’s unnamed expert?

His lips turned up. She, then, was the one Hall had shown that photograph to. And if anyone the world over could divine its purposes, it was Lily. She could see the beauty, the purpose in anything.