Jake turned when he heard the shout. Sharp, in Russian. Now what? A soldier at the lake's edge was calling out, pointing at something in the water. Surprisingly, he waded in, wetting his boots, shouting again for help. On the terrace, some of the aides glanced toward the water, then turned back to the photographers, frowning at the interruption. Jake watched, fascinated, as the Russian soldiers began pulling a body to the shore. Another floater, like one of the bodies in the landwehrkanal. But this one in uniform, indefinable at this distance. Still more interesting than chimneys. He started down the lawn.