Time indeed have flown by so quickly. We have already reach week 1 of the initial launch of this new short novel by a young author, Red Wolf. How is everyone enjoying the read?
Have a great weekend ahead everyone.
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Chapter 7:
Moscow
55.7558°N, 37.6173°W
0740 hours, 6/5/2020
McCain had never experienced this much coldness before.
Not only was it -2°C outside, the air conditioning was appallingly cold. There were icy daggers hanging on all corners of the Moscow airport, which truly revealed how chilly the city was. It had been three hours and fifty minutes since McCain had flown for Moscow from Heathrow at 0050 hours UK time. As soon as he saw the sun rise on the infamous capital of Russia, McCain felt a fist gripping his stomach, as if to warn him of impending danger. And as soon as he left the aircraft and set foot on the main terminal, he could understand how the term “cold war” came into being.
He lined up behind a crowd at the bustling immigration zone, with the group rowdily separated into ten counters.
Five of the officials were women.
Five were men.
© 2021 TINKERBELLSAN tinkerbellsan.wordpress.com ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Written for tinkerbellsan.wordpress.com with permission from the Author, Red Wolf. If you are not reading this from tinkerbellsan.wordpress.com, then this original novel has been posted without the permission of the author.
All were unsmiling and left the true taste of Russia on people’s minds. McCain approached and placed his fake passport on the counter, having had his real identity taken by Hall back in Vauxhall.
“You. John Kane?” the woman in immigration uniform questioned in broken English.
“Da.” Lucius had no idea when he learnt to speak Russian at all, but his tongue slipped. She examined this stranger carefully, taking note of all his features. Then, she raised a stamp and landed it hard on a page of the passport.
“Zdravstvuyte.” the lady grunted in her local language, as if she couldn’t be bothered to have this job.
After passing through the baggage area with nothing to collect, McCain quickly weaved past the arrival hall, evading couples making out and families reuniting. He had only one thing to look out for: a Union Jack with the word “Kane” above it. He saw something by the door; a tall man with dark skin and sunglasses in bodyguard uniform, holding a placard with a Union Jack. This was the man McCain had to speak to. He approached carefully as the stranger eyed him down.
“John Kane?” he asked in a grimy accent.
“Yes, that’s me.” McCain answered, slightly taken aback by his colleague’s accent.
“My name is Robert Jones. Please, follow me.”
© 2021 TINKERBELLSAN tinkerbellsan.wordpress.com ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Written for tinkerbellsan.wordpress.com with permission from the Author, Red Wolf. If you are not reading this from tinkerbellsan.wordpress.com, then this original novel has been posted without the permission of the author.
McCain accompanied Jones to a civilian Humvee, a former military vehicle used in the eighties. They both got in and waited in silence.
“I didn’t expect Hall to send in a fucking newbie.” Jones remarked, having been briefed on his pickup’s true identity. “And don’t think I’m teaching you the ropes.”
McCain awkwardly nodded to himself and stared out the window as the Humvee raced past a line of taxis and onto the main road. The traffic was smoother on the semi-rural airport roads, and Lucius found himself on the roads just before the ten o’clock traffic started.
The British embassy to Moscow was a large complex, several stories high with the Union Jack waving to the most populous city in Russia.
“We’re here.” Jones announced, driving into a carpark. It was dimly lit, with British cars lined up on both sides. The Humvee stopped in front of the lift lobby, where a delegation of smartly-dressed men and women were waiting for McCain’s arrival. They were accompanied by members of the RAF.
© 2021 TINKERBELLSAN tinkerbellsan.wordpress.com ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Written for tinkerbellsan.wordpress.com with permission from the Author, Red Wolf. If you are not reading this from tinkerbellsan.wordpress.com, then this original novel has been posted without the permission of the author.
“Lucius McCain.” a much older man in a suit remarked. He had thick, white hair and few wrinkles. McCain could’ve sworn he was related to Alex Ferguson by the looks of him. “My name is Harold Smythe. I am the ambassador to Russia.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” McCain extended his hand, which Smythe accepted.
“Hall’s told me much about your pre-MI6 records.” the diplomat revealed. “I must say, you’re fit for this rather delicate task.”
This was comforting for McCain, who had been awaiting some form of reassurance from somebody.
“Mr. Ambassador, we should speak more in your office.” Jones suddenly interrupted, clearly trying to keep his charge safe.
“Of course, of course. If you’d follow me.” Smythe offered, escorting McCain personally to the elevator.
Time, twenty-three minutes to eleven in the morning.
Original Novel by Red Wolf
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