Chapter 20
RUSSIA
In his foreign minister’s residence in Moscow, Valentin leaned against the rock mantle of the fireplace. On the floor behind him, shattered crystal decanters.
With a thousand-yard stare across the landscape, Nikita sat outside on a concrete bench. It was snowing.
A door opened fifty feet behind him, and a soldier approached, his breath a fog of exhales in the cold.
“Sir, we have confirmed that the weather was clear when the plane went down. No other aircrafts spotted in the area. No missiles. It must have been a mechanical failure. A rescue mission is on the way,” the soldier said.
The solider waited for an answer. Nikita did not respond. He took a long, slow drag on his cigarette.
“Sorry, sir,” the soldier said. He retreated to the door, then turned back, waiting
