Three days later (December 2)
Trans Siberian Railway
Somewhere between Perm and Yekaterinburg
2027 local
If you ever forgot just how big the world, and Russia in
particular, was, all you needed to do was try to get across them,
Mercedes reflected. Even in this day and age, the journey from D.C. to
Yekaterinburg took three days. First, there was the flight. Even
aboard the always-comfortable Lufthansa, it took 17 hours, with a brief
stop in Berlin. Add in the time difference, and a 1 AM departure from
D.C. one day ended up in a 1AM local arrival the next.
But that only got one to Moscow. From there, Mercedes had quickly
hurried to the central Moscow train station, catching the Trans-
Siberian Railway first to Gor'kiy, then Vyatka, then a long stretch to
Perm, and finally arriving in Yekaterinburg around 11PM local, again
having lost time to two more time zones.
At least she'd been lucky enough to find private compartments on
the old-style trains. Determined to be inconspicuous as possible, she
had changed to more European-style clothes at Moscow station, stuffing
the rest in a canvas knapsack, her only luggage. She'd even hidden her
English novel in a false Russian cover.
She still didn't know what she was going to do when she got to
Yekaterinburg. When she left, she'd given the excuse of a relative in
a car accident needing her. It wouldn't withstand the slightest
scrutiny, but she doubted Georgi had checked. Others? Well, that was
another story. She could only wait and see.
**************************
Yekaterinburg City Morgue
0038 local
The building was unusually quiet, even for the middle of the
night. She flashed her ID at the night desk clerk, who waved her by
without looking up from his newspaper. She made her way down the hall
to the stairs, glancing around the dimly lit corridor. Although it
looked like every other time she'd been here late, something just felt
wrong. A chilling sensation crept up her spine, what some called the
feeling of someone stepping on their grave.
Mercedes increased her pace, moving quickly but quietly up the
stairs. A glance around showed another deserted hallway. Something was
off, though, she knew it. She made her way slowly to the lab where
she'd been working.
Then she heard it. A soft but sharp *thiiikk* sound, followed by a
thud. She increased her pace, pushing though the flimsy lab doors. And
stopped cold.
Georgi lay dead on the floor, a pool of blood below his head.
And a figure in black, their features hidden by a ski mask, was putting
the remains into a small metal box. At the sound of the doors, and
Mercedes's gasp, he immediately drew a silenced pistol, aiming straight
for her, his finger curling around the trigger.
TBC...
Trans Siberian Railway
Somewhere between Perm and Yekaterinburg
2027 local
If you ever forgot just how big the world, and Russia in
particular, was, all you needed to do was try to get across them,
Mercedes reflected. Even in this day and age, the journey from D.C. to
Yekaterinburg took three days. First, there was the flight. Even
aboard the always-comfortable Lufthansa, it took 17 hours, with a brief
stop in Berlin. Add in the time difference, and a 1 AM departure from
D.C. one day ended up in a 1AM local arrival the next.
But that only got one to Moscow. From there, Mercedes had quickly
hurried to the central Moscow train station, catching the Trans-
Siberian Railway first to Gor'kiy, then Vyatka, then a long stretch to
Perm, and finally arriving in Yekaterinburg around 11PM local, again
having lost time to two more time zones.
At least she'd been lucky enough to find private compartments on
the old-style trains. Determined to be inconspicuous as possible, she
had changed to more European-style clothes at Moscow station, stuffing
the rest in a canvas knapsack, her only luggage. She'd even hidden her
English novel in a false Russian cover.
She still didn't know what she was going to do when she got to
Yekaterinburg. When she left, she'd given the excuse of a relative in
a car accident needing her. It wouldn't withstand the slightest
scrutiny, but she doubted Georgi had checked. Others? Well, that was
another story. She could only wait and see.
**************************
Yekaterinburg City Morgue
0038 local
The building was unusually quiet, even for the middle of the
night. She flashed her ID at the night desk clerk, who waved her by
without looking up from his newspaper. She made her way down the hall
to the stairs, glancing around the dimly lit corridor. Although it
looked like every other time she'd been here late, something just felt
wrong. A chilling sensation crept up her spine, what some called the
feeling of someone stepping on their grave.
Mercedes increased her pace, moving quickly but quietly up the
stairs. A glance around showed another deserted hallway. Something was
off, though, she knew it. She made her way slowly to the lab where
she'd been working.
Then she heard it. A soft but sharp *thiiikk* sound, followed by a
thud. She increased her pace, pushing though the flimsy lab doors. And
stopped cold.
Georgi lay dead on the floor, a pool of blood below his head.
And a figure in black, their features hidden by a ski mask, was putting
the remains into a small metal box. At the sound of the doors, and
Mercedes's gasp, he immediately drew a silenced pistol, aiming straight
for her, his finger curling around the trigger.
TBC...