Prague (1)
Winter in Prague was bitterly cold.
There were hardly any days with actual sunlight; most of the time, it was either snowing or raining.
The heat of Camp Peary, where I’d been just a few months earlier, already felt like something dreamed up from far away.
Has it really been two months already?
That thought in mind, I opened the bakery door. Warm air rushed out to meet me.
The scent of freshly baked flour mingled with butter, and the numbness in my nose vanished all at once.
The woman arranging the bread behind the counter turned her head.
When she saw my face, she wordlessly picked up a pair of tongs and started packing two rohlíks into a paper bag.
She reached for the coffee machine button at the same time.
“Děkuju. Thank you.”
When I greeted her, the woman said something back in Czech.
I could make out about half of it, but the rest might as well have been a foreign language.
When I hesitated, she pointed outside and shivered theatrically. Probably asking if I was cold.
“Ano, zima. Yes, it’s cold.”
The woman snorted softly and handed me the coffee.
When I’d first started coming here, she’d been the sort to announce prices in stiff English and nothing else.
Now, even if I didn’t order, she’d prepare my usual without asking.
And if she was speaking Czech and realized I wasn’t following, she’d even throw in hand gestures to help me understand.
Guess that means I’ve become a regular.
I tore into the rohlík and looked out the window. It was still dark outside.
In December, Prague didn’t really see sunrise until around eight in the morning.
So this famous city of night views was also, in winter, a brutally gloomy place.
Under the glow of the streetlights, people walked quickly with their heads down.
The white breath spilling from their mouths blurred for a moment in the lamplight, then disappeared.
“Tak já jdu. I’m off.”
I left the bakery and walked to the tram stop.
The stone pavement was a little slick with overnight frost.
I could feel the rough scrape of my shoes against the stones with every step.
The language school was four stops away by tram.
Czech was still a damned difficult language, but compared to when I first arrived, I’d improved a lot.
At least I could order bread now without panicking.
“Hey, Daniel.”
As I stepped into the classroom, Lukas from my class raised a hand.
He was a student from Berlin, and he’d come here to learn Czech because his girlfriend was Czech.
He’d started talking to me from the very first week, and by now we were pretty good friends.
“Want to grab lunch together today?”
“Sure, I’m in.”
At break time, we stood by the vending machine in the hallway, drinking coffee and chatting.
Football, recent happenings, good places to eat around the neighborhood—mostly ordinary things like that.
Here, I was Daniel Lee from the United States, and no one had any reason to doubt it.
The language school had a quick turnover of students, so everyone naturally kept a certain distance from everyone else.
No one got too nosy about other people’s business, and no one dug where they weren’t invited.
I liked that appropriate distance.
Not bad.
After class and lunch with Lukas, I headed to my job at the café.
The afternoon shift ran from two to seven. It was simple work—pulling coffee shots at the espresso machine, wiping down cups, and restocking the dessert display.
After a few months, my hands had gotten pretty fast.
By now, I could even make regulars’ orders before they asked.
Large cup, extra milk. Small cup, double espresso. Americano, half syrup.
“Daniel.”
Around four in the afternoon, a local delivery guy came in and ordered a coffee.
Then he opened his mouth and said, “You know that building we talked about last time? Lately, trucks have been coming every evening. The lights stay on until late at night, too. It’s seriously weird.”
I handed over the cup and nodded.
I wore a mildly bored expression, like I wasn’t very interested.
“Oh, really?”
“Do you think there’s any reason for a truck that big to go in every single day? What are they moving in there, anyway?”
“...Not sure. Didn’t you say there was some company there?”
“Maybe? I mean, that’s just my guess.”
The delivery guy sipped his coffee and scratched his chin.
He was a regular at the café—loose with his mouth, and the type who loved conspiracy theories.
At some point, I’d casually steered the conversation toward the company building where the target was staying, and after that he’d been faithfully bringing me information every chance he got. Of course, he had no idea.
Working the regulars like this and gathering information about the area was part of the job, too.
At seven in the evening, I wrapped up work and headed to the gym.
It was a small boxing gym tucked into the back alleys of the neighborhood.
When I opened the door and went inside, the familiar smell of sweat hit me along with the harsh squeaking of jump ropes.
I put on my gloves and stood in front of the heavy bag.
A man turning a rope beside me spoke up.
“Dnes sparring? Sparring today?”
“Jasně. Yeah.”
After three rounds, both of us were drenched in sweat.
The guy was panting when he bumped my glove with his and gave me a thumbs-up.
Even when my Czech was weak, fists were still a perfectly good way to communicate.
By the time I stepped out of the gym, it was already dark.
My shadow stretched long across the alleyway lit only by streetlamps.
I exhaled a long breath, watched it steam in the air, and pulled my coat zipper all the way up to my neck.
...Not bad.
That thought came to me all at once.
The living allowance the CIA gave me was generous, and everyone around me was kind enough.
If the weather were a little less depressing, this would have been a pretty livable place.
These ordinary days that would end someday anyway—days that meant nothing at all.
I clicked my tongue at the sense of loss already creeping in, then kept walking.
I still had to move at night, so there was no time to waste.
***
When I got back to the apartment, I showered, lay down for a moment, and then got back up.
It was eleven at night. I glanced at the clock, put on my coat again, and stepped back outside.
“Hoo...”
The café and grocery store had already pulled their shutters down, and the trams were coming less often, which meant a long wait if you missed one.
A thin layer of frost coated the rails. Out on the road, where no cars were passing, only the traffic lights blinked red.
I folded my arms and walked at an easy pace, like I was out for a stroll.
As I passed the same streets I’d crossed earlier in the day, my eyes naturally lifted upward.
I checked the direction the cameras were pointed on the corners of buildings, then noted the dead zones between one camera and the next.
I turned into an alley.
It was a dead end, but the wall on the right was only waist-high.
If I climbed over it, I’d come out onto the road behind the residential block.
Checked.
I went back to the main road and headed south.
I was moving toward the area with the big square. It was near the neighborhood the delivery guy had mentioned earlier in the day.
I made a wide loop around the block where the target’s building stood. I didn’t go inside.
Just passed under the streetlights and scanned the surroundings.
There was one narrow side street leading off into the back alleys.
If you went straight for about fifty meters, it joined the broad road by the tram tracks.
It was barely wide enough for one car. Old building walls lined both sides, and there were no streetlights.
Check.
On my way back to the main road, I slowed down and glanced at the glass window of a building beside me.
In the reflection, I made sure no one was behind me.
After circling one more block, I returned to my original route.
Only after wandering around like that for quite a while did I finally head back home.
The first thing I did was pull out the prepaid phone I’d left in the back of a drawer.
[No issues.]
I sent off the short text as my routine report and waited for a reply.
About a minute later, one came back.
[Confirmed.]
I put the prepaid phone back in the drawer and stood by the window.
On the third floor of the building across from me, kitchen light spilled out through the curtains.
Someone was probably eating a late dinner.
“Ugh... that’s another day done.”
I turned off the light and lay down on the bed.
Tomorrow would be another day much like today.
The bakery, the language school, the café, the gym. And the night walks.
Until McKinnon arrived.
Until my real work began.
***
Once the Christmas season properly got underway, the atmosphere changed completely.
A giant tree stood in the Old Town Square, and wooden stalls had sprung up in every alley.
The smell of trdelník was thick in the air, and the stalls selling svařák had lines that never seemed to end.
I was, as usual, working at the café.
It was just past four in the afternoon, but it was already beginning to get dark outside.
I was killing time, watching the world through the thin film of condensation on the window, when—
Ding.
The door opened, and a burst of cold air rushed in.
A woman with a laptop bag slung over her shoulder came in, sniffling through a reddened nose.
Then she walked to her usual seat, took off her jacket, and pulled out her laptop.
It was Hanna, one of the café’s regulars.
She had red hair and glasses, and she was a little shorter than me—maybe by half a handspan.
She was a freelance translator, mostly working with English, German, and French, from what I’d heard.
She often spent hours working at this café with her laptop, so it hadn’t taken long for us to become familiar with each other.
I could safely say that Hanna was responsible for about thirty percent of the Czech I’d learned.
Whirrr—
I didn’t bother asking her what she wanted and just took out a cup and started brewing coffee.
Cappuccino, extra milk, a little cinnamon. It would be the same order as always.
When I set the cup down at the counter, Hanna stood up and came over.
“Díky. Thanks.”
Her hand, taking the cup, was a little red. It must have been cold outside.
After taking a sip, Hanna narrowed her eyes slightly.
Then she said to me in fluent English, “Oh, not bad. Your skills are improving lately, Daniel.”
“What do you mean? I’ve been good from the start.”
“Should I remind you what I said about the first coffee you ever made for me?”
“Hmm. Probably about a hundred times?”
When I snorted, Hanna’s mouth curved as well.
She lifted the cup and, instead of going back to her seat, leaned against the counter.
“My German publisher is freaking out because they want the manuscript before Christmas. And the volume is insane.”
“So you’re working late again today?”
“No, I’m trying to finish a little early tonight.”
Hanna sipped her coffee and looked out the window.
Christmas lights were beginning to flicker on in the streets beyond the glass.
“...Hey, Daniel.”
She looked at me again.
“What time do you get off today?”
“Same as always. Seven.”
“Have you been to the Christmas market?”
I shook my head.
I’d passed by it a few times, but I’d never actually gone in to look around.
I hadn’t felt any need to go into crowds when I could avoid them.
“...Then do you want to go with me? After work.”
Hanna said it as she set the cup down on the counter.
Her tone was casual enough, but her eyes stayed on me. A little longer than necessary.
“You have to try the svařák. If you don’t drink that in Prague at Christmas...”
She kept talking, a little flustered, as if trying to add something harmless to the end of it.
I was still considering how to answer when—
Ding.
The café door opened again.
Along with another gust of cold air, a fairly large man stepped inside.
He wore a thick winter jacket and a black beanie, and a little snow had collected on his shoulders.
Unlike back at Camp Peary, he looked like nothing more than a normal man dressed for winter.
Nearly 190 centimeters tall, broad-shouldered, with blue eyes that were almost a pale gray.
The moment he came into the café, he swept the room with a habitual glance—and our eyes met.
McKinnon.
McKinnon spotted me too and gave a small jerk of his chin.
That was all. Of course, it was enough.
“Hanna.”
I rested a hand on my apron tie.
“Sorry, but let’s go another time.”
At my firm answer, Hanna’s eyes trembled for a moment.
“...Okay.”
Her voice lowered slightly.
I took off my apron, set it on the counter, grabbed my coat, and headed for the door.
After telling the café owner I’d be leaving early just for today, I made my way out quickly.
Ding.
Once I stepped outside, the cold air slapped me across the face.
Snow was beginning to drift down in small flakes. Far down the street, the lights of the Christmas market glowed in the distance.
Somewhere off beyond that, I thought I could hear the faint sound of carols carried on the wind.
“You look good. Seems like you’ve been doing well.”
McKinnon spoke as we walked side by side.
“Not bad,” I said.
We took a few more steps.
Hands in his pockets, McKinnon looked ahead and said, “Too bad, but your pleasant winter break ends today.”
He exhaled a plume of white breath and added,
“The package has arrived, Lee. And the pickup time’s fucking awful.”
I glanced back once.
Warm light was spilling through the café window.
On the other side of the frosted glass, I could just barely make out the seat Hanna had been sitting in.
I looked forward again.
Through the falling snow, McKinnon’s broad back was already moving ahead of me.
I pulled my coat zipper up to my neck and answered in a low voice.
“...Then let’s go to work.”
Yeah. It was time to work.
Time for that fucking pickup.