That Time in Moscow, Logan Ryles [the best books to read .txt] 📗

“Charlie Eye, which way?” Megan shouted, cupping her free hand over her ear. She nodded a couple times, then pointed to the left as they approached a T in the hallway. Wolfgang wheeled in that direction, dragging Edric with him. A small crowd of Russians dressed in business suits were being ushered down the hallway by another line of firefighters. Red lights now turned to blue overhead, and the siren continued as the computerized voice cycled through languages.

“Gas contamination detected. Obtain fresh air, immediately.”

A panicked shout rose from the crowd while some of the firefighters looked to the ceiling and frowned.

Wolfgang grinned. Nice one, Lyle.

They merged with the crowd, charging around the corner and toward the nearest exit. Russian security guards stood at the door, holding out their palms in an effort to check the flood of humanity, but there was no stopping the stampede. Wolfgang caught sight of the bright Russian sky through the double exit doors as the fire alarm blended with the whine of fire engines parked on the street. People screamed, crashing forward like a tidal wave toward the exit.

Then Wolfgang saw Ivan. The Russian stood next to the door, shouting into a cell phone, his face a dark shade of red. Wolfgang ducked his face, twisting away and shielding Edric. His elbow slammed into Ivan’s arm, but the Russian didn’t give him a second glance as the four burst into fresh air and crashed down the hillside.

Russian soldiers in full biochemical gear stood near the wall, corralling the evacuees into a group away from the exit, where they could be contained, evaluated, and treated. Wolfgang steered his small brigade of pseudo-firefighters away from the rest of the crowd and toward the nearest gate, where the Russian State Fire Service had run hoses through the wall and were busy pulling them toward the building.

As they neared the gate, a Russian soldier stepped into their path and held out a gloved hand. His breath hissed through a gas mask, and he shook his head. “Ostanovka!” he ordered.

They slid to a stop, and Megan tore the helmet off Edric’s head, exposing his purple and swollen face. Edric played the part, hanging limp with the tip of his tongue protruding between his lips.

“Gaz!” Megan said theatrically. “Gaz!”

It was probably the only Russian word she knew, but Wolfgang didn’t need to speak Russian to get the message, and neither did the soldier. He stepped back and motioned them through the gate, panic flooding his eyes.

The team barreled onto the street outside, now a mess of parked fire engines and snaking hoses. Megan led the way, hopping over hoses and sidestepping firefighters. She jabbed her chin toward a parked ambulance twenty yards away. It was a Mercedes Sprinter, painted yellow with the word скорая stenciled on one side.

Wolfgang powered through the last stretch, hauling Edric to the back of the van as the doors burst open and Lyle appeared, a headset clamped over his ears, and his array of laptops scattered over the stretcher in the middle of the ambulance.

“Glad you could make it,” he said. “Let’s roll!”

They hauled Edric inside and set him in the nearest seat, then Kevin slammed the doors from the outside and rushed around to the front door. Wolfgang tossed his helmet to the floor and peeled the jacket off, surprised by the sweat streaming down his back.

I’m sweating in Moscow. Now, there’s a story for the grandkids.

Edric leaned against the wall, wiping his own face and casting a glance around his team. Then he let loose with a quick chuckle. “You guys are idiots, you know that?”

Megan patted him on the shoulder, then sat down and fastened her seatbelt in one of the EMT seats. “Don’t laugh yet, boss. We’re still in Moscow. Kevin, let’s move!”

Wolfgang hurried to sit next to Megan. “Do you have it?”

Megan opened a drawer beneath the stretcher and produced a padded envelope with a small lump inside. Wolfgang opened the end of the envelope and saw Sparrow’s flash drive resting inside.

“Pen,” Wolfgang said.

Megan handed him a Sharpie, and Wolfgang tore a strip of paper from a clipboard hanging on the wall. He uncapped the marker with his teeth and scrawled a brief note on the paper as the van began to move.

Dear Ivan,

Hope this helps. Sorry about the fire.

Until next time,

Amerikos

Wolfgang stuffed the note inside the envelope and sealed it, then flipped it over and jotted down Ivan’s name, along with an address. It was in English, but somebody would translate it, and it would eventually find its way to his desk.

“You sure about this?” Megan asked. “He could be one of them. He could be playing you.”

Wolfgang smiled. “He’s not.”

“How do you know?”

Wolfgang turned to Edric. His boss leaned against the wall, flinching as Lyle slid an IV needle into his arm.

Wolfgang tucked the envelope into his shirt. “I just know.”

“Train station?” Kevin called from the driver's seat.

“No,” Wolfgang said. “We’ve got one more job to do.”

Kevin frowned through the rearview mirror. “Huh?”

“Are you crazy?” Megan said. “We’ve got to get out of here. Now.”

“Not without Koslov. He’s put his life on the line for this mission. We’re not leaving him behind.”

“We don’t have time,” she objected. “We don’t know where he is!”

Wolfgang looked at Edric, and his boss nodded.

Wolfgang said, “I know where he is.”

10

Wolfgang tore another strip off the clipboard and scratched down an address, then passed it to Lyle.

“Translate that into English, and give Kevin the directions.”

Lyle squinted at the paper, then punched the address into one of his computers and waited a moment while the browser loaded. His head snapped up. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

Megan pushed past Wolfgang and leaned over the computer, then looked up, already shaking her head. “No, no, no. Are you out of your mind? We’re leaving. Right now! Kevin, take us to the train station.”

She pushed toward the front of the ambulance, but Wolfgang caught her arm. “Megan, listen to me. Koslov was a private scientist. The