“Which is just fine, though, naturally.” Scrambling for a mollifier, I glimpse a plausible prop amid my scattered clothes. “After all, I still have my playing cards for other tricks. As you can see there.” I gesture, redirecting focus to my boxed sample deck—the map-embedded version. Thanks to Hutton’s long-held insistence that a map is an evader’s most valuable tool, I tossed it in as a backup and suddenly couldn’t be more thankful.

“A performer,” the officer scoffs. “Of card tricks. You?”

A measly girl, he means.

“Actually, I’ve always possessed quite a knack for them.”

His eyes narrow to slits, and I recognize that the mocking I’d endured since girlhood has ruffled my defenses, an inane reflex.

Dirk intercedes, emphatic and chipper. “It is quite true, sir. The tricks she does are astounding. Isn’t that right, darling?”

Klara responds with a touch of a stammer. “Yes…yes, that’s right. While playing bridge in the evenings, she often performs for us. Truly she’s…astounding!”

Their zealousness only adds to the officer’s disbelief. He addresses me with a sneer. “Show me, then, if you are—as they claim—so astounding.”

The couple trades quick, troubled looks; their repayment of my help has put all our lives in jeopardy.

But strictly if I’m proven a liar.

“Happily,” I reply. I walk over to retrieve the deck, wishing I could tell them there’s no reason for fretting. Although, my own confidence teeters when I slide out the cards and comprehend my challenge.

At the nightstand, I shuffle a full three times, to stall again, to think. Not only has it been several years since I specialized in close-up sleights of hand, it’s been even longer since I’ve performed with cards not meant for magic. Marked Bicycle decks, Svengalis—these were central to my dime-museum tricks. And soon after, on our tour, Charles took over even those parts in our show.

Speeding through the dusty files of my mind, I hunt for a trick that requires no setup. I happen across one yet temper my joy. I still have to pull it off, and the technique poses more risk than I prefer.

To bar any quivering from my hands, I envision the Sugar Plum Fairy, my old preshow tactic to infuse grace and calm into my movements. With a measured flourish, I fan the deck facedown and extend it toward the officer. “Pick any card of your choice, sir. Then memorize it, and privately show others if you would like.”

He hands my compact back to the tall policeman. Curiosity encroaching on his skepticism, the officer does as I say, though shows no one. I square up the remaining cards.