Chapter Five
Wrocław, Poland
Olesya stretched up to the top of the supermarket shelf and selected a packet of ground coffee, all the while focusing her awareness on the person approaching from behind. The supermarket was quiet at this time of night, save for the pair of tired paramedics wandering the confectionary aisle after their shift.
‘Olesya,’ said the man, his voice marking him as young and American.
She’d already drawn her pistol inside her coat and pointed the barrel under her arm. The American would see the barrel pressing against her material, and maybe think twice about trying anything.
She looked over her shoulder at him, standing there in a jacket and faded jeans, his skin a pale olive and his stubble overgrown. A bandage on his neck made it look like he’d been attacked b
