COLD STEEL

    It was a dull, quiet afternoon in Moscow and the almost empty streets lay resting under a thick blanket of snow. Large, rolling clouds lay sprawled across the open sky and shadows crept slowly up the eastern side of the White House. A black limousine pulled up outside, the chauffeur hurried to open the car door and a man stepped out wearing a black suit. He walked briskly up some marble steps, was greeted at the large front doors and stepped into the entrance hall of the White House, the door closing behind him.

    The Russian Prime Minister cautiously entered the hall from the far end but proceeded to warmly greet the U.S President, inviting him to his study for a drink. The president could see that the room created an atmosphere of power which the Russian Prime Minister clearly did not hold and open on the desk laid a number of important files.  The walls of the study were almost completely covered by a number of mahogany bookcases and at one end a pair of armchairs sat facing each other by a huge ornate bay window. Taking a seat in one of the armchairs, the President couldn’t help but think what an incompetent fool the Prime Minister was and noticed a seemingly troubled look upon the man’s face as he too took a seat.

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     Alexei took great pride in his work. He didn’t do it for the money after all, he never had done, but this time his job held a much greater importance than normal. He hurried up the steps, the morning breeze whipping at his suit and tie. A look of pride seemed to cross his face but passed in a second to be replaced by a look of great doubt.

     Opening the large door into the study he remembered the last time he had seen the inside, through the scope of his SVD, as he had aimed through the bay window where the Russian Prime Minister and the U.S President had sat only yesterday.