That Time in Moscow Logan Ryles (book suggestions .txt) 📖

waved away the change. The driver rocketed off only a millisecond after the door shut behind them.

Wolfgang started to speak, but Edric held up a finger. “Don’t talk. Just listen. I brought you because you think better on your feet than Kevin does, and because I need Megan at the hotel to get everybody out in case things go sideways. Sparrow’s message stipulated that we meet him in the Red October district at one a.m.”

Edric gestured ahead, and as they walked, Wolfgang saw through the darkness to the towering bulk of a red brick building sitting on a slight rise directly ahead. Another ten yards, and Wolfgang realized that the slight rise was actually an island situated in the middle of the Moskva River with bridges connecting it to the rest of the city. At the southern tip of the island, lit by powerful spotlights, the statue of Peter the Great shot out of the river and reached for the sky.

Wolfgang remembered it from reading about Moscow on the plane and realized they must now be in downtown, with the Kremlin only a stone’s throw to the other side of the island. His stomach twisted into a knot, and Edric nodded at him once as if to say he knew what Wolfgang was thinking.

“Stay loose and alert. Sparrow is meeting us at a nightclub called Bar Gypsy. It’s on the island.”

Edric paused at the edge of a pedestrian bridge sheltered by the shadows of an apartment building and reached into his pocket. He passed Wolfgang an earpiece, and they slid the tiny units into place while making a show of rubbing their hands and glancing around as if they were lost tourists.

Edric whispered, “All channels, this is Charlie Lead. Com check.”

“Charlie Eye, online,” Lyle said.

“This is Charlie One,” Megan said.

“Charlie Two, loud and clear,” Kevin said.

Wolfgang hesitated, still rubbing his hands together for warmth. His official call sign was Charlie Three, but he could hear the tension in his teammates’ voices.

He grinned at Edric. “This is Sunshine, ready to rock.”

Edric flashed a brief smile. “Copy that, Sunshine. Let’s roll.”

5

Wolfgang followed Edric across the bridge while looking down at the black depths of the Moskva River. Chunks of ice dotted the water, crashing into one another as they slowly churned downstream. He shivered and looked back up. The lights of the Red October district were bright now, shining from rows of brick buildings as the faint beat of nightclub music made its way through the walls. He thought about being inside, in the warmth, and walked a little quicker.

Edric led the way, stepping off the bridges and waiting for traffic to clear before leading Wolfgang onto the island. They turned left, moving toward the statue of Peter the Great, and the music grew steadily louder. Tourists and locals alike stood close to the buildings, leaning over and talking quietly while they smoked. He caught the scent of marijuana and wondered how the hell a person grew weed in a place like this. Was it trucked in? From where?

Edric nodded at a tourist who asked him for directions, then shrugged and said, “Ya ne govoryu.”

The tourist scowled and stumbled on, clearly drunk enough to pass out at any moment.

Ahead, Wolfgang caught sight of the backside of the statue, and just before it, bright disco lights blasted from the dirty windows of the last building on the island. The music was loud now, and more tourists gathered at the end of the island, walking in and out of the nightclub through a door guarded by a burly man in a thick coat—who was also drunk. Over the door in large, multi-colored neon lights were the letters: GYPSY.

“Once we’re inside, we split up,” Edric whispered. “Stay close enough you can see me, but not so close that Sparrow will put us together.”

“How will you find him?” Wolfgang asked.

“Prearranged activity signals. Just follow my lead.”

They approached the door, and Wolfgang fell back a couple paces, allowing a young couple to slide into line ahead of him. The guard glanced at Edric’s fake ID only momentarily before waving him through. The couple did the same, then Wolfgang flashed a smile and withdrew his fake Canadian passport.

The guard peered down at him, his eyes bulging and watering. He swayed on his feet a moment, and Wolfgang choked on the blast of vodka fumes assaulting his face. The guard waved him through without so much as glancing at the passport.

Inside, the music was as jarring an assault as the cold had been. Pounding, pulsating club beats rocked the old brick walls as people jammed in next to each other on every side, fighting their way to and from the bar and trampling each other as they approached the DJ stand. In the middle of the room was a rectangular pool built out of bricks with fountain jets shooting streams of water out from the edges and toward the middle. Coins glistened from the bottom of the pool, and drinks were stacked along its edges. Colored lights flashed from overhead, and fake palm trees rose from the extremities of the room, bending towards the middle.

What the heck kind of place is this?

Wolfgang searched the collage of faces, suddenly aware that he had lost sign of Edric. He stood on his toes and swept his gaze around the room, but the flash of the lights made it difficult to discern faces.

“Charlie Three, tone it down,” Edric said over the earpiece. “Nine o’clock, ten yards.”

Wolfgang stopped and turned toward his nine o’clock, where Edric stood at the bar, casually talking to the bartender. After the bartender passed Edric a beer, Edric dropped a ruble note on the counter and then turned away without looking at Wolfgang.

Wolfgang breathed a sigh, irritated with himself for having allowed Edric to escape him, and then for allowing his stress to become obvious.

Stay loose. Stay focused.

Wolfgang moved to the edge of the room, relaxing his shoulders and taking a moment to smile at a girl