Chapter 8
It was just a couple of months into the New Year of 1959. This latest mission had been trying and irritating, and I was glad to be back home in Great Britain.
I made my way down the long corridor to our office, where I beat a tattoo upon the door before flinging it open. “Your wandering hero has returned!”
Jeremy looked up, and I was aghast to see his face streaked with tears, his eyes red and swollen.
“James?” The loss and desolation in his brown eyes was replaced by shock and then overwhelming joy. “Oh, dear God, James!”
“As ever was.”
He lurched to his feet, his movement so abrupt his chair went spinning backward, and I stepped into our office, closed the door behind me, and caught him as he threw himself into my arms.
“Ochi chyornye, what’s wrong?”
“I thought…I was to
