“It was good to see you, Pavel,” Kazakov said and suddenly he didn’t want to send the young man empty-handed out into the cold. But it was too late. Chelomeyev opened the door and stepped out onto the porch.
Kazakov lumbered to his feet and across the room to catch the door before it was fully closed. He hurriedly hauled on boots and stepped outside into the wind and swirl of new flakes as Chelomeyev headed down the stairs.
“Pavel.”
The young man swung back to him, the light of the kerosene lantern through the dacha window catching on his brow and cheekbone.
“All I can suggest is to look into Enver Pasha. It was the one thing I neglected to do in the Weber-Manas case. There might be something.”
Chelomeyev frowned and then nodded, before turning back to his vehicle. He opened the door and slid inside.
“And—and for God’s sake be very careful,” Kazakov called, but the door thunked shut so Kazakov wasn’t sure that Chelomeyev had even heard.
He stood in the swirl of snow and the wind and watched as the red taillights disappeared down his driveway. Then came the silence of his life—except for the wind off the eastern mountains.
He went inside and poured himself another tumbler of vodka.
To read more of Mareson’s Arrow, pre-order the book at your favorite on-line retailer by clicking HERE, or
watch for it’s release July 31, 2018
Romance, Mystery and Fantasy
from Twisted Root Publishing
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After Yekaterina Page 29