From Russia Without Love by Stephen Templin

as to where Xander was. They examined the area, including the restrooms.
    After searching the station, Chris and Sonny stopped in front of a fast-food stall.
    “This is like trying to find a preacher in a whorehouse,” Sonny said.
    Chris frowned. “Instead of trying to follow Xander, we could try to anticipate where he’ll be next.”
    Hannah joined them. “I just received a call from Young. He said when he hacked Xander’s laptop, his team downloaded some web-browsing history Xander had tried to delete. Young’s team discovered a lot of internet activity regarding UKP headquarters and its neighborhood in London.”
    “London,” Sonny said.
    “The train leaves in twenty minutes,” Hannah said. “And we still have to buy tickets and make our way through security.”
    Because they were carrying pistols, they wouldn’t be able to pass through the X-ray machines, so after getting their tickets, Hannah led them through the lane for crew and VIPs. A train conductor passed through the lane ahead of them, and when the trio reached the security guard, Hannah showed her diplomatic passport. As the guard examined it, a puzzled look came over his face.
    The security guard scratched his head, and a crew member came up behind them. The guard looked at Hannah, then back at her passport, again and again. He asked to see Chris’s and Sonny’s passports, as well.
    Meanwhile, the crew member behind them tapped his foot impatiently. When he tried to pass them, Sonny stopped him with a stiff arm. “Hey buddy, we were in line first. You wait like the rest of us.”
    The crew member became angry and shouted in French. “Fils de salope!” Son of a bitch! Then he complained about being late for his shift. Chris could communicate in French, in addition to being fluent in Arabic and Russian.
    Sonny didn’t know French, but the crew member’s body language was clear, and Sonny smiled, eating it up, which only made the crew member raise his voice louder and spit out more obscenities.
    The security guard told Hannah to wait for his superior. After arriving at the crew/VIP gate, the man gave the passports a cursory inspection.
    Chris knew his passport was created by the Agency’s finest, and his confidence in the document was the critical link between the passport and the official’s approval. Such confidence could mask a minor error in a document. Likewise, the lack of confidence could raise suspicion, even if the document was perfect. Chris’s faith in his passport was solid, and the head security officer waved them through without a fuss.
    As the trio walked to the Eurostar platform, Chris observed the other passengers. None of them were Xander or Animus. Minutes later, the bullet-shaped train pulled up in front of them and stopped. Its doors opened with a hydraulic hiss, and Chris’s team boarded. They located their seats and sat down.
    “Who’s going to search the train?” Chris asked quietly.
    “It won’t take all three of us, and we don’t want to stick out like turds in a glass of milk,” Sonny said.
    “I’ll be the least conspicuous,” Hannah said.
    Personally, she was the last person he’d send. He didn’t know what he’d do if something happened to her. Professionally, she was the obvious choice. He wanted to go along as a tail, but that came from his personal feelings, not his professionalism.
    Hannah looked to Chris, as if waiting for a response. He kept his mouth shut and forced his head to nod approvingly.
    Hannah smiled, stood up, and walked away. She passed through the doors into the next compartment and was out of sight. She was a pro at recruiting and running agents, and she was an accomplished MMA middleweight, but her shooting, although better than most CIA officers, wasn’t at the level of Chris’s or Sonny’s. And it might not be at the level of Xander’s, either. Hopefully they wouldn’t have to find out.
    Speaking English with a slight French accent, the conductor announced the time in