Rasputin's Shadow

19

Leo Sokolov was back in his ratty hotel room, standing by the grimy window, staring out at the noisy, traffic-clogged street below.

He was angry at himself. He’d almost screwed everything up with his impetuousness, which wasn’t like him. Sokolov wasn’t a rash person. He normally thought things through, took his time. If anything, he was usually overly cautious and analytical. And yet here, faced with a crisis, he’d jumped into the deep end without checking the pool first.

He was lucky to be alive-and free. Very lucky. He thought back to his failed attempt at kidnapping Rogozin and realized how close he was to it all going seriously wrong. He caught a ghostly reflection of his face in the glass and felt a pang of shame and remorse. He chided himself again. He couldn’t do this. Not like that. He’d thought it would work out, his being brazen, as he had been all those years ago, when he’d outwitted his CIA handlers. But this was a different world, and he was a different man.

He couldn’t afford to fail again. He’d need to do better.

And he needed to get help. He couldn’t do it alone. Not anymore.

He didn’t move for more than an hour. He just stood there, in the darkness, staring out into the night, oblivious to the bustle of the city outside his grimy window.

Remembering. Thinking. Searching for an inspiration, for someone he could turn to.

An ally.

Then, out of the confusion in his mind, a name came forth.

He didn’t want to drag anyone else into the chaos of his now-exploded life, but he really didn’t have a choice if he was ever going to see his Daphne again. And who better than someone who, against all of Sokolov’s advice, seemed incapable of doing anything else than dedicating himself to a life of crime.

Jonny.

He needed to find Jonny.