Vanguard by CJ Markusfeld Page A

when lunch arrived.
    “Tell me, Sophie,” the Commandant said, “is this your first visit to the Soviet Republic?” It drove her nuts that Jaros referred to this camp – which was on the Orlisian side of the border – as Soviet territory, but she ignored it.
    “I spent two weeks in your country at the age of seventeen.”
    Jaros pressed her for details of her visit, which she provided freely, although she deliberately glossed over any references to the Global Youth Leadership program. While she didn’t doubt Jaros had done research into her, Sophie wanted nothing to do with a topic that could connect the dots between her and Michael Nariovsky-Trent. Especially if he happened to turn up in Jaros’ camp in the near future.
    The conversation had reached a lull when her walkie crackled. Jim’s voice sounded scratchily over the wire. “Will, you there?”
    “Yeah, Jim. What’s the story?” Will’s voice floated back.
    “I’ve got a bad case of pneumonia in section Tango 29. Male patient, hard to judge his age. These guys all look pretty weathered to me. Maybe in his thirties. Wondering if you could send a Jeep over right away.”
    The Commandant’s eyes narrowed. “You seem to have a larger problem on your hands than anticipated,” he said coldly. “I’m displeased to hear the disease is gaining a foothold among the adult male population.”
    “A larger problem, Commandant? Or a greater opportunity?”
    They locked eyes in silence for a long moment.
    Jim’s voice issued eerily from the walkie on the table between them. “He’s sharing a shelter with about ten other lads, so we’d better get some meds into them, too. Otherwise, this fellow will end up leading all of them into the fray.”
    Leading all of them into the fray…
    Sophie’s heart started to pound. Does Jim realize what that means?
    “Say, while I’ve got you, Will, maybe you can help me out with something. I’ve got a crossword puzzle clue that I’m stuck on.”
    Code word is Vanguard . Remember that our walkie signals will be monitored, so try to be imaginative. Screaming that you’ve found Vanguard is not imaginative.
    “It’s an eight-letter word. Clue is ‘the leading units moving at the head of an army.’ Any idea what that might be?”
    Jim was being ridiculously imaginative.
    Without taking her gaze away from the Commandant’s, she picked up the radio and activated the priority override function. The frequency went quiet, ready for her to speak. Her heart thundered in her chest, every nerve in her body stretched taut.
    Remember, confidence. Never show fear.
    “Vanguard,” Sophie said into the radio. “The answer is Vanguard.”

 
     
     
    Chapter 7
     
     
    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