Chapter 9The food on the plane was okay but Angel was too nervous to eat much of it and by the time they got into the taxi outside Domodedovo Airport, his stomach was grumbling. In reasonably good Russian, Rodney told the driver to take them to Red Square.
“I’ve been to Red Square before,” Angel said, looking out of the window.
“Is that right, Blondie?”
Angel moved as far from the man as he could in the backseat of the cab. “Don’t call me that, and don’t sit so close.”
“I bet these yellow taxis remind you of home. Don’t they have yellow cabs in New York?” He asked the last sentence in a faked American accent. Angel chose to ignore both the question and the attempt at humor.
Roughly an hour later they arrived at Red Square, which was busy summer and winter, day and night, as the most r
