The streets of Moscow were broad, designed to allow the easy movement of troops in the event of war, but these days they had to contend with little more than congested traffic. Concealed in the back of a delivery truck that passed unnoticed amongst the thronging multitude, Anya sat in brooding silence, her thoughts turned inwards as she and the three men in the back closed in on their target. The others had chosen to occupy themselves by checking their weapons were ready, magazines loaded, body armour secured and strapped tight, but Anya did no such thing. She had checked all of her gear in advance, and felt no need to do so again. Instead she found her thoughts lingering on Drake. The man was as stubborn as he was foolish, and not one to concede defeat to anyone. Was it nothing but pride driving him on? she wondered. Did he really see her as an enemy now, or was there another reason? Was it the same reason she was so afraid to admit, even to herself? She shook her head, forcing those thoughts away.
