She had called an emergency meeting with her Spy Camp counselors because something had been discovered earlier that morning in the “Cold War in East Berlin” exhibit—a portion of the museum designed to re-create the experience of being a spy in the Communist-controlled sector of Berlin. At first, Gilda couldn’t tell what April was so upset about, because the graffiti-spattered city wall spray-painted with the phrase “THE COLDEST PLACE ON EARTH” looked just the same as it always had. Near the wall there was a model of a Berlin café, a black sedan parked next to an old-fashioned telephone booth, and a government office that contained sinister-looking jars of scented rags—bits of clothing used to set attack dogs on the trail of any individual regarded as “suspicious” by the secret police. Roger stood a few feet away with his hands on his hips and a dirty rag hanging from his back pocket. A sullen female security guard leaned against a wall next to him. Finally, Gilda saw what April was pointing at: further down on the wall, in spooky-looking black letters, was a single word: ANNA Gilda felt a tickle in her left ear.
