“First, we need to stay here and watch the boards. Our final destination is almost certainly in Germany; our safe space is in Germany—now is not the time to leave the country, especially on a hunch. And Dietrich is right—we don’t want to get into a firefight with Nemo. We hired him because he knows how to kill people. But that doesn’t mean we can’t keep an eye on Bletchley.”

“I can make some calls to . . . sympathetic friends in the UK who might help us,” said Dietrich.

“As far as Erich and Karl are concerned,” said Eva, “even if they can’t be traced back to us, it’s dangerous to leave them in the US with a murder investigation going on. If they have to fly back to Europe, they may as well fly to London and see if they can pick up the trail. Book the flight, Gottfried, but keep working your magic. And send them the picture of the woman. Don’t worry, they have to use a credit card sometime.”

But of course, they didn’t have to use a credit card. At least not one Gottfried Bergman would recognize. Nemo still had a few thousand dollars in cash. True, Patton’s ticket had her real name on it, but even if they did hack the flight manifest—which was no easy feat—it would be no surprise they were headed to England. Once they got there, Nemo could rent a car under any of six different identities for which he carried credit cards and passports. They would never trace him. He had practiced disappearing for the past thirty years.

“Are you sure first class was a good idea?” said Patton, after their elegant dinner had been cleared away. The last time she had flown had been in the back of an army transport from Frankfurt to Washington.

“Trust me,” said Nemo, “it’s easier to hide in first class. And you don’t get hassled by immigration when you have a first-class ticket and you look like this.” Nemo had bought a suit, shirt, and dress shoes when he had gone out for plane tickets and fried chicken, and after shaving and washing his hair in the showers at the first-class lounge in Atlanta, he looked like the world’s blandest businessman. He had made Patton buy a similar outfit in the airport, with cash of course. The first-class seats were comfortable, her business suit—not so much.

“So how do you break this Enigma Code?” said Nemo, sliding the plastic sleeve containing the yellowing paper onto his tray table.