Moscow

Elda spotted Sobaka sitting on the bed in her hotel room, reading a map. Her support team had left something for her in the room. Elda reached under the mattress to remove a small computer. She then took a small Russian nesting doll out of her shopping bag. Inside the first doll was a smaller doll, and inside that doll was another whose head came off to reveal a USB stick. She logged in to a secure VPN, bounced the signal through several IP addresses, and uploaded the contents of the stick to a secure CIA server. She then wiped the computer clean and replaced it under the mattress for retrieval while she went for supper. She took the stick, crushed it, and flushed it down the toilet.

She thought silently, Thank you, Yuri. The information from Natasha, who slept with so many expats with loose lips, was of interest to the CIA. Elda rubbed her hip ruefully. There would be a bruise there, though. Perhaps they could find a gentler way to exchange information next time.

She sighed and stared longingly at the bed. The trip had taken twenty-two hours from her home to Moscow, with a stop in Heathrow. She found it hard to believe that she used to travel to Moscow from the United States almost every week. Ignoring her fatigue, she stretched, threw water on her face, and changed her clothes to head out to savor blinis with caviar with Korinna at the Café Pushkin. Too bad they wouldn’t be eating at the Czarskaya Okhota restaurant. It was probably no longer open, since Korinna had requested they meet at the Café Pushkin.

Elda would miss the atmosphere at the old Czarskaya Okhota. It had been dark and dismal, as a Russian restaurant should be. She remembered darting in there to lose a tail when she was in Moscow on a mission years ago. She had been compromised and forced to flee the city quickly, and she’d needed to meet a contact for new papers.