The Lost Throne(87)
“Seriously,” Payne continued, “I feel like such an idiot. First I went over to the green line, then I ran back to the blue—”
Kozlov blinked a few times, trying to shake out the cobwebs.
“Sorry. I’m sure you don’t want to hear any of this.” Payne grabbed the Russian by his suit and tried to help him up. “Here. Let me give you a hand.”
Kozlov cursed loudly at Payne and tried to push him away, but he wasn’t strong enough to budge him very far. It was like trying to shove an oak tree.
The surrounding passengers stared with amusement.
Stuff like this rarely happened on the Metro.
Payne shook his head in mock disgust. He had no idea what the Russian had said to him but knew it wasn’t pleasant. “Fine! I can take a hint. You don’t want my help. But you didn’t have to be rude about it. What did I ever do to you?”
46
Despite being free of his shadow, Jones knew there was more work to be done. He and Allison were still several blocks away from their suite at the Palace Hotel, and there was always a chance that Kozlov wasn’t working alone. Jones also realized they had to steer clear of all the cops and soldiers who might want to chat with the black man and the gorgeous blonde.
Other than that, they were home free.
“Take this,” Jones whispered as he handed Allison her computer. “It will look better if we’re both carrying bags.”
She slung the thick strap over her shoulder. “Where to now?”
“Back to the hotel. You need to look through Byrd’s things.”
“What about Jon?” she asked, concerned.
“Don’t worry about Jon. He can take care of himself. My job is to worry about you.”
They turned down the central corridor, which was getting more and more crowded. Rush hour would be starting soon, and when it did, the Metro would be packed with people.
Moving through the crowds, Jones kept his head on a swivel, watching everyone around him. He searched for faces that looked the least bit familiar and stares that lasted a little too long. As they walked, he noticed several security cameras along the ceiling. He had seen the same thing in the lobby and near the train platform. But so far, no one had pestered him about his race. It was a pleasant surprise. He was expecting to be hassled everywhere he went.
Maybe Russia wasn’t so racist after all.
When they reached the escalators, Allison stepped on first, followed by Jones. For the next few minutes, he would have a chance to question her.
“When we were outside, did Jon point out my shadow?”
She nodded. “Back near the square.”
“Did the guy make any phone calls or talk to anyone on the street?”
“Not that I could see. He never stopped moving.”
“Good.”
Jones glanced over his shoulder, checking for eavesdroppers. The person behind him was listening to loud music through headphones. Farther back there was an older couple who didn’t look as if they could hear each other, let alone Jones.
“What did the soldiers want?”
She blushed slightly. “I think they wanted me.”
“You? What did they want with you?”
Her face turned even brighter.
“Ohhhhh!” he said in understanding. “They wanted you. I know exactly how you feel. Women constantly treat me like a piece of meat. It’s disgusting.”
She smiled at his claim. “It must get pretty hard for you.”
“See! That’s exactly what I mean. Raunchy comments like that.”
“Wait!” she blurted, realizing her double entendre. “I meant tough for you. Not hard.”
Jones laughed at her discomfort. “Relax, I’m just teasing. I knew what you meant. I just wanted to see how red I could make your face. It’s kind of fun. Like coloring without a crayon.”
She shrugged in resignation. “Don’t ask me why, but I’ve always been that way. Even as a little girl they used to tease me. I have fair skin, so the red comes shining through.”
Jones pointed to his face. “I have the exact same problem.”
She smiled, amazed that Jones was so relaxed despite his narrow escape.
His confidence gave her confidence.
“Back to my shadow for a moment. Did he look familiar to you?”
“Jon asked me the same thing.”
“And?”
“I honestly don’t know. He was too far away to see.”
“Not to worry. If he killed Richard, we’ll find out shortly.”
“We will?”
Jones nodded. “Of course we will. Jon is very good at his job.”
“What do you mean? Jon is talking to him?”
“Talking? I guess you could call it that.”
A look of discomfort crossed her face. One that Jones instantly recognized. He had seen it many times before when civilians listened to stories about life in the military. They freaked out over tales of brutality, not able to understand that violence was often done to ensure peace.