CHAPTER 39
A FLASHLIGHT BEAM played over the inside of the truck at the first checkpoint, and I kept my gun in front of me, ready to fire if the owner got the urge to investigate the contents more thoroughly. Beside me, Emmy looked relaxed as her finger covered the trigger of her Walther.
“Cigarette, tovarisch?” the driver asked.
“Da.” The light disappeared. “Spaseeba.”
“Your boss still insisting on extra security?”
“Yes. But we never find anything. What crazy person would travel out to the base by choice?”
Ah, so Zacharov had pulled his usual trick of withholding information. He liked to trickle it out, piece-by-piece, relying on orders instead of understanding to get the job done. So the soldier knew he was looking for something, but he didn’t know it was me.
The faint whiff of to
