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ask some of their code breakers to look at it.”
    “For the love of mincemeat!” Sera said. “We can’t tell anyone about this code. Time traveling brings a whole new meaning to the term
top secret.
”
    “Mincemeat!” Dak said. “Yes, Sera, you’re brilliant! So am I, by the way. We’re still waiting on Riq.”
    Riq muttered something back to him in a language their translators didn’t pick up. In case Dak didn’t know he’d been insulted, Riq added, “That was Navajo. And trust me, I got the meaning of my words exactly right.”
    To Riq’s surprise, Dak only chuckled and went back to his writing. After a moment he looked up and announced, “I know the code. I just lined up the first letter of each word, then the second letter of each word, and so on. Six words, four letters each.”
    Sera and Riq looked to Dak’s chicken scratch.

    “Oh, good,” Sera said. “That clarifies everything.”
    “You’ve made a mistake,” Riq said, then chuckled. “What’s an M-man? A mailman? Marshmallow man?”
    Sera nodded, and with a snort of laughter, added, “Maybe it’s the Muffin Man.”
    But Dak only shook his head. “Here’s a tip for telling jokes, dudes. They’re always better if they’re funny.” Then he stood and stuffed the SQuare into his pants. “The M-man is real, and it’s the key to the Allies winning this war. C’mon, we’ve got work to do!”

D AK WASN’T sure where he was going, only that he had so many ideas turning in his head that he needed to move, just to keep things flowing. Riq and Sera were on either side of him, and as they walked, he tried to explain the code.
    “Hitler’s first name, Adolf, means
wolf
. He used to call himself that sometimes, like a nickname.”
    “Charming,” Sera muttered.
    “And we have to help a dead guy swim to him?” Riq asked. “Because I’m not going near any dead bodies.”
    “Well, I’m not going anywhere near Adolf Hitler!” Sera said.
    Dak stopped and turned to Riq. “When you were inside the Admiralty this week, did anyone ever talk about Room 13?”
    “No, but Duncan mentioned it during the bombing, so I found it, but I’m not allowed to go inside. Why? What’s in that room?”
    “I sort of hoped that by now, you could tell me,” Dak said.
    “What?” Riq asked. “So, you don’t know everything?”
    Sera interrupted them. “Oh, for the love of mincemeat!”
    Dak slapped a hand to his forehead as ideas moved like pinballs inside his brain. “ ‘For the love of mincemeat’ — exactly. You’re always saying that, Sera.”
    She followed behind him as he started walking again. “I only say it when you two are fighting.”
    Dak grinned. “Like I said, you’re
always
saying it. Anyway, I connected that with the word
Trout
in the code. M-man is Mincemeat Man. Mincemeat is a code of its own.”
    “Like mincemeat pie?” Riq asked.
    “It’s a code, not a dessert. I mean
mincemeat
as in slang for a dead man. You know, kaput, kicked the bucket, cashed out, toast. If you’re dead, you’re mincemeat.”
    “And some dead guy is going to save the war?” Sera asked.
    “That was the plan,” Dak said. “But in the history I learned, the plan didn’t work. In fact, it backfired in the worst possible way. The Allies never recovered.”
    “Mincemeat!” Riq shouted. “Yes!”
    “Could you say that louder?” Dak said. “The only way for everyone to know you’re a spy is if you SHOUT OUT YOUR PLANS!”
    Riq glared at Dak, then lowered his voice and said, “Mincemeat — I’ve heard some people whispering about that. They got the body of a dead homeless person and dressed him up to look like a British officer. They call him Major Martin.”
    “That’s him!” Dak stopped walking, this time because he realized he had no idea where he was going. Then he turned around to Riq. “The Allies are going to plant fake information about their next invasion on Major Martin. They want the Germans to discover it and believe what