THURSDAY, 21st April 2061, on the other side of the world,
The Potemkin Stairs still lead north-east. Staring back up the stairs, south and west, a deadly game was set to begin…. A sweep in the port city of Odessa on the Pontus.
A hollow howl echoed from the city. Things were afoot.
Stepan looked across at Olev, who shrugged.
“Ono tam.” It’s there. The speaker crouched facing the sun. A shell of old mortar and bricks, latent with memory and regret provided sufficient camouflage.
His companion, tall and rangy, wore multicam patterned jeans and jacket. Fierce avarice played in his face, his eyes. Thick locks of dirty sun-streaked hair jutted from the trapper on top.
“Ya nichego ne vizhu.” I can’t see anything. A long speech for Olev, hunched next to his hunting partner.