“Novosibirsk, Siberia “And how confident are you of Dimitry and Fedor?” Ruth Harper asked.
Tucker stood at a pay phone next to an open-air fish market. The pungent smell of sturgeon, perch, and smelt hung heavily in the cold air. He had spent the previous ten minutes bringing Harper up to speed. He was surprised how happy he was to hear that southern lilt to her voice.
If not Tennessee, then maybe— “Do you trust those Russians?” she pressed.
“I wouldn’t be making this call if ei...ther of them had ratted me out. Plus, I’ve been strolling the snowy streets of Novosibirsk for the past two hours. I’m clean. And it’s still another twelve hundred miles to Perm. If I pick up a tail, I’ll have plenty of time to shake it loose.”
“Still, you’re cutting the rendezvous close.”
“Bukolov will keep. If they—whoever they are—had any idea where he was, they wouldn’t be after me.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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