The Oracle Code by Charles Brokaw

gripped him between missions. He was used to being in play, used to chasing or being chased. Downtime did not agree with him.
    His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. When he checked the phone, the woman’s smile faltered a little. No doubt, she was thinking she was about to lose her prey. Nervously, she glanced back at the two men. She lacked professionalism, but the men did not appear to notice her. They were holding to their covers.
    Linko’s estimation of them went up, and excitement climbed within him. He had thought they were merely street thugs. Evidently, they were more experienced than he’d thought. That was promising.
    The caller ID on his phone showed NO DATA. That was curious because no one had this number.
    He punched the button and held the phone to his face. “Yes.”
    “Colonel Linko?”
    “Yes.”
    “This is Mikhail Nevsky.”
    The world tilted crazily around Linko. In all his years with the FSB, a Russian president had never contacted him. He had acted on their orders several times, to be sure, but never direct contact.
    Paranoia gripped him, and he at first believed he was being set up. But that was foolish. There was no reason to do such a thing.
    “I trust you know who I am?”
    “Yes. Of course.” Linko wasn’t certain if the president was joking or truly making certain that he knew who he was.
    “I have a task I need you to perform. One that must be done quickly and quietly.”
    “Of course.”
    “I have made arrangements for you on a charter plane to Herat, Afghanistan. Once there, I want you to find a man named Boris Glukov. I will send you further instructions at that point.”
    “When do I leave?”
    “As soon as you can get to the airport.”
    “I am on my way.”
    “Do this right, Colonel, and that promotion you’ve been longing for will soon be yours.” The connection broke.
    Linko put the phone back in his pocket.
    The woman looked at him quizzically. “You’re smiling again. You have a beautiful smile. You have good news?”
    “Possibly.”
    “I thought you were going to be called away to business.”
    “Not yet.”
    “Good. That would have made me sad.” She put on a little pout to give him a preview of her sadness. “Would you like to go now?”
    “Yes.”
    The woman put her arm through Linko’s and guided him out of the bar onto Tverskaya Street. The two men at the bar waited an appropriate time before following. The fact that they weren’t overeager gave proof to their expertise.
    ***
     
    Outside, cars whisked by. Neon lights spilled out over the street and reflected from the buildings. Snow fell in small flakes, dancing as it was caught in the wind. Dirty snow lined the streets, and only half a block away, a truck equipped with a plow blade ground along, keeping the thoroughfare clear.
    The winter chill cut into Linko and made him draw his coat more tightly, but not too tight. The woman leaned into him as if for warmth, but he knew she was only anchoring him, controlling him.
    She looked up at him. “Do you have a car?”
    “No. I do not like rentals. I took a taxi.” Which was true enough. Having a car meant potential trouble when he needed to disappear quickly.
    “It’s fine. I was going to suggest using my car anyway. I have a permit for my building.” With her arm in his, she guided him to the alley. “It is just at the other end of this. Be careful. The alley is always very dirty.”
    “At least it blocks the wind.”
    “Yes.”
    The lights behind Linko gave him all the warning he needed. They penetrated deeply into the alley and revealed the refuse piled outside of buildings. The shadows of the two men fell in behind him. Their footsteps were very quiet, but Linko heard them all the same.
    “Just a moment.” Linko stopped in the alley, far enough in now that the men had no choice but to reveal themselves. His coat was left unbuttoned, and his GSh-18 rode in shoulder leather.
    “What is wrong?” The woman tensed then, and some preternatural