Read Online The Spy Who Came for Christmas by David Morrell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: David Morrell
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Kagan decided. The country had actually been Afghanistan, and he hadn't been an escort. Instead, his assignment had been to pretend to be part of the medical team while he tried to get information from Afghan villagers about the location of terrorist training camps. Knowing how to save a baby's life could buy a lot of cooperation.
"The babies were starving," Kagan explained. "The doctors told me what to do. It felt good to be able to help."
Reinforcing Kagan's point, Meredith held the baby against her chest.
"The mixture isn't a substitute for food. All it'll do is give him electrolytes and keep him from dehydrating," Kagan went on. "He needs twelve ounces in the next twelve hours. But after that, he's got to have formula."
Twelve hours, Kagan thought. If we're not out of danger by then, it won't matter if the baby gets fed or not.
"Someone's coming," Cole said from the living room.
* * *
WARY OF the shadows on either side, Andrei followed the tracks.
The falling snow had accumulated until it was above the ankles of his boots. The footprints ahead were rapidly becoming faint impressions.
Two sets veered toward a house on the right. Farther on, two other sets angled toward a house on the left. The pairs of prints were next to each other and showed no sign of scuffling. But Andrei suspected that if Pyotyr had used his gun to force someone to take him into a house, he would probably have done so with the gun pointed toward the person's back. In that case, one set of prints would be in front of the other. Also, the prints in front would be unevenly spaced, evidence that the person in front was being shoved.
As Andrei kept walking, faint light reflecting off the snow now revealed only one remaining set of fresh tracks. He noted that they paralleled some almost-filled prints that came in Andrei's direction, apparently from a house farther down the lane.
Do these fresh prints belong to you, Pyotyr? he hoped. Have I almost caught you?
Or maybe you're leading me into a trap.
Andrei slowed, scanning the snowy haze before him. The cold made his cheeks numb, but that only took his mind back again. While in the Russian army, he had once marched twenty-four hours in a blizzard. In that period, he hadn't been able to drink or eat anything, the weather having frozen his water and rations. We do this to make you tougher, his officers had told him.
Well, those bastards accomplished their goal, Andrei thought bitterly No one can be tougher or harder. Pyotyr, you're about to learn what that means.
Ahead, the remaining footprints turned to the left toward the upright cedar limbs of a coyote fence. The prints reached a gate. Andrei carefully observed that the other tracks, the ones that were almost obliterated by the snow, came from that same gate.
They belong to someone who went to see the Christmas lights and then returned, Andrei concluded. The excitement of the hunt dimmed in his chest. I've been following someone who lives in the neighborhood. I wasted valuable time. I should have stayed with Mikhail and Yakov and continued searching the area near Canyon Road.
Wait. Don't jump to conclusions, he warned himself.
Continuing along the lane, he concentrated harder on the two sets of tracks. The old ones came from the left side of the house. The new ones went in that direction, disappearing into an area of darkness that Andrei assumed concealed a side door. Peering intently, he managed to see a shed and a garage over to the left. Switching his gaze toward the house itself, he noted that it had the distinctive architecture--flat roof, rounded corners, earth-colored stucco--that he'd seen almost everywhere in Santa Fe.
Christmas lights hung above a wreath on the front door. Immediately to the left, a pale light glowed behind a curtain over a small window in what was probably the kitchen. To the right of the door, a large window showed a living room, murky except for a dwindling fire in a hearth and lights on a Christmas tree.
"The babies were starving," Kagan explained. "The doctors told me what to do. It felt good to be able to help."
Reinforcing Kagan's point, Meredith held the baby against her chest.
"The mixture isn't a substitute for food. All it'll do is give him electrolytes and keep him from dehydrating," Kagan went on. "He needs twelve ounces in the next twelve hours. But after that, he's got to have formula."
Twelve hours, Kagan thought. If we're not out of danger by then, it won't matter if the baby gets fed or not.
"Someone's coming," Cole said from the living room.
* * *
WARY OF the shadows on either side, Andrei followed the tracks.
The falling snow had accumulated until it was above the ankles of his boots. The footprints ahead were rapidly becoming faint impressions.
Two sets veered toward a house on the right. Farther on, two other sets angled toward a house on the left. The pairs of prints were next to each other and showed no sign of scuffling. But Andrei suspected that if Pyotyr had used his gun to force someone to take him into a house, he would probably have done so with the gun pointed toward the person's back. In that case, one set of prints would be in front of the other. Also, the prints in front would be unevenly spaced, evidence that the person in front was being shoved.
As Andrei kept walking, faint light reflecting off the snow now revealed only one remaining set of fresh tracks. He noted that they paralleled some almost-filled prints that came in Andrei's direction, apparently from a house farther down the lane.
Do these fresh prints belong to you, Pyotyr? he hoped. Have I almost caught you?
Or maybe you're leading me into a trap.
Andrei slowed, scanning the snowy haze before him. The cold made his cheeks numb, but that only took his mind back again. While in the Russian army, he had once marched twenty-four hours in a blizzard. In that period, he hadn't been able to drink or eat anything, the weather having frozen his water and rations. We do this to make you tougher, his officers had told him.
Well, those bastards accomplished their goal, Andrei thought bitterly No one can be tougher or harder. Pyotyr, you're about to learn what that means.
Ahead, the remaining footprints turned to the left toward the upright cedar limbs of a coyote fence. The prints reached a gate. Andrei carefully observed that the other tracks, the ones that were almost obliterated by the snow, came from that same gate.
They belong to someone who went to see the Christmas lights and then returned, Andrei concluded. The excitement of the hunt dimmed in his chest. I've been following someone who lives in the neighborhood. I wasted valuable time. I should have stayed with Mikhail and Yakov and continued searching the area near Canyon Road.
Wait. Don't jump to conclusions, he warned himself.
Continuing along the lane, he concentrated harder on the two sets of tracks. The old ones came from the left side of the house. The new ones went in that direction, disappearing into an area of darkness that Andrei assumed concealed a side door. Peering intently, he managed to see a shed and a garage over to the left. Switching his gaze toward the house itself, he noted that it had the distinctive architecture--flat roof, rounded corners, earth-colored stucco--that he'd seen almost everywhere in Santa Fe.
Christmas lights hung above a wreath on the front door. Immediately to the left, a pale light glowed behind a curtain over a small window in what was probably the kitchen. To the right of the door, a large window showed a living room, murky except for a dwindling fire in a hearth and lights on a Christmas tree.
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