The fire crackled in the open hearth and the heavy scent of smoke and liquor filled the warm air. Looking up from my notes, I examined the dimly lit seating area and watched the bartender mopping down the bar.

Apart from one other patron I was alone, sat in the shadiest corner of the Inn with my writing pad and pen set out in front of myself, and a slowly diminishing tumbler of cold vodka to the side. About to look back at my notes I heard the Inn door creak open and bang closed. A tall shadow in the form of a man walked passed my left side and sat down in the chair on the opposite side of my table.

“I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”  I mumbled and took a mouthful of vodka.

“Sorry, comrade, but there was an altercation along the way.” The man replied, watching drops of melted snow dripping from the brim of his hat.

Kiril was recognizable even beneath the heavy shadow of his hat and overcoat. An ugly scar ran from his left temple, through his lips and down to his chin. It was a distinguishing feature to say the least.

“An altercation?” I asked, placing the glass back on the table.

“Do not concern yourself with the details. It was nothing.”

“Really?”

“Do you know why I asked you here, tonight, comrade?” Kiril asked, scratching the black hair on his chin.

“You called me last night –late last night – and asked me to meet you in the arse end of nowhere. I have met you only once prior to this. Yes, an explanation would be desirable,” I answered flatly, adding with a smile “Ah, I am not complaining about the peace and quiet, though.”

“You’re a writer of some renown, yes?”

“Figuratively speaking, yes, I am. Why do ask? What is this all about?”

Kiril cast a cautionary glance about his surroundings and inched his chair closer to the table. Hunching his shoulders and head low, he begun to speak the words that would forever change my life. I just didn’t know it at the time.

“You are familiar with the Kremlin bombing a few months back, no?”

“I only know bits about it, mainly what was put in the papers.” Staring into my empty glass, I wished for another. “Would you like a drink?”