Sevastyan
Nothing. He felt nothing. His mind blanked out as he walked through the halls of the Yadro back to his room.
A call to central services assured him that his helicopter would be ready in moments.
His bag had never been unpacked. He gathered up his winter coat and went back down, stopping in the cafeteria long enough to grab a brown paper filled with quarters of jidanbing and a pain aux raisins.
There was bottled water to go. He added one to his coat pocket.
“Heading out?” someone said in German.
Sevastyan turned at the voice. A man just a couple of centimeters shorter than him but slightly broader in a gray tweed coat stood there with a mug of coffee in one hand. He had a short, neatly trimmed beard and gray hair to match. He looked English, not German.
“Do we know each other?” Sevastyan replied.
The man moved his mug to his left hand and extended his right. “No. I came in right after you left. Call me Karl. Karl Sutton.”
Sevastyan shuffled his food to one hand and met Karl in a handshake. “I’m afraid I have a flight to catch.”
“Yes. I was told. I’m sure we will be seeing more of each other.”
Sevastyan raised an eyebrow.
“I’ve been brought in on the Korean idol case. Getting briefed this afternoon. They were just waiting for your report.”
Prickles went up Sevastyan’s back. This felt oddly reminiscent of Dirk barging in. “I’m under a gag, if you’re looking for details.”
“No, no, of course. I would never. Here, let me walk you to the door. I know you have to catch that flight.”
Sevastyan kept his face pleasant. “I don’t know how I can help you, then.” They started walking through the Yadro’s long halls.
“Just saying hello.” Karl smiled genuinely in a way that did nothing to set Sevastyan at ease, even though it was meant to. Why wasn’t the Yadro assigning any locals to the case? Or was this man lying?
“I just wanted to say hello before anything started going down. We might well end up working together. They said you had an in with the lead target.”
Sevastyan smiled. “Still can’t say anything. I’ll need to receive direct authorization.”
“You match your reputation.” Karl shook his head, eyes twinkling. “Tight lipped. Complete opposite of your mother.”
Sevastyan laughed easily. “My mother, yes.”
“My friend was there, at her party.”
“Which one?”
“The one that had quite the show. You were there for the most dramatic part, I believe.”
“Ah. The one in England.”
“That was some move.”
“It was well earned,” Sevastyan said. “Sometimes a message is best delivered personally.”
“I’m certain you will be delivering future messages with the same aplomb.”
“Whatever the message requires, that is the delivery. Not all are the same.”
“True.”
They had reached the front doors. Sevastyan turned and offered Karl his hand. “We should part ways. You’re not dressed for this white hell.”
Karl gave an exaggerated shiver. “No matter how many layers I wear, it never seems to be enough. Good travels.”
“And to you, when you do.” They shook hands. Sevastyan walked out the front door towards the Jeep that was just approaching.
In the airport, he texted Ellisandre.
They replied back.
He blinked, keeping his face impassive. He might still be under surveillance.
The interlude with Karl had put his hackles up.
He texted Ellisandre the address of a hotel in Chiba City, one of the city centers near Narita International Airport.
Once he boarded his plane, he messaged the hotel to book a room.
Tension ran just under his skin, but the sense that he was still being followed stayed with him all the way to Beijing and through customs.
As planned, he abandoned the flight he had booked for Los Angeles and changed it last minute for Narita, which was taking off in less than an hour.
Only the efficiency of Beijing’s air travel allowed him to reach the gate in time.
Even so, he timed his arrival to just before the doors shut.
It was with a sense of satisfaction that he took his seat with the doors closing right behind him.
If someone was following him, they would not have passed that cut-off point.
The steward approached, starting to speak in English.
Sevastyan waved the language off, addressing the man in Mandarin and letting him put his bag in the bin overhead.
Then, and only then, did Sevastyan look at his hands.
They were steady, for the moment. And they would remain that way.
He closed his eyes and cycled down, putting himself in waiting mode.
He could break when he saw Ellisandre. But not until then.