From Russia Without Love by Stephen Templin Page A

France over the loudspeaker and that the Eurostar would arrive in London in one hour. As the train pulled forward, the conductor repeated the announcement in French. Outside, sunlit poles and barricades disappeared, replaced by the blackness of the Chunnel, the Channel Tunnel. Inside, artificial lights flicked on, pushing out the darkness.
    Across the aisle, a couple kissed, seemingly oblivious to the world around them. Chris remembered the first time he’d kissed Hannah. It’d been in an FBI safe house near Washington, DC, and he wished he could put the world on pause and go back there again. But the world didn’t pause, and his thoughts returned to the mission. He had to stay alert.
    Sonny fidgeted in his chair, glancing over at the couple, too. Finally, he stared hard at them, as if his eyes could make them stop, but they didn’t. “He’s sucking the ugliness out of her,” he said with dismay.
    Chris couldn’t help but smile, but the kissing couple remained insulated in their own world.
    “Why can’t I have a girl?” Sonny said. “He’s kissing her. I don’t know what’s going on between you and Hannah, but it’s more than I got. I got bubkes.”
    “Every Tier One operator I’ve ever known could get a girl to go out with him,” Chris said. “Why would you be any different?”
    “Yeah, I can get a date, but the girls who are decent and nice are afraid to death to talk to me. They think I’m going to be mean to them or something. I need a girl who understands me.”
    “You’ll find her.”
    “What about you?” Sonny asked. “What exactly is going on between you and Hannah if you’re not banging?”
    “We dated after the Switchblade Whisper op. The distance wasn’t ideal, but we made it work. I’d fly out to see her in Virginia, she’d come see me in Texas.”
    “How’d that work out?”
    “We enjoyed the time together,” Chris said. “But we ultimately decided just to be friends.”
    “Oh.” Sonny actually sounded disappointed and stopped his line of questioning.
    Nearly half an hour later, with no more conversation and no sign of Hannah, the Eurostar exited the tunnel. The artificial lights cut off, and rays of sunshine poured in from the outside as they passed the base of the White Cliffs of Dover.
    Where is she?
    Chris checked his watch, then turned his head to peer out the window at the green English countryside. The bullet train continued gliding hundreds of kilometers per hour, passing hop gardens and orchards. He was trying to distract himself but it wasn’t working. He checked his watch again, realizing he was still on French time. He adjusted it an hour back, so he was on London time. Then he inspected his cell phone, making sure it had automatically made the switch. He contemplated calling her, but he put his cell phone back in his pocket, putting the phone call out of his mind, as well. He glanced over at Sonny, who was updating his watch and examining his cell phone, too.
    Chris said a silent prayer for Hannah’s safe return and tried to take in the countryside, but he couldn’t. The next time he checked his watch, only another minute had passed. He had no more patience. “I can’t wait anymore.”
    He stood, and Sonny didn’t argue this time. Chris walked down the aisle and opened the doors with more strength than he needed, causing them to bang against the frame as loudly as his anxious heartbeat. Breathe , he told himself. He used to breathe deep and slow, visualizing something calm to lower his heart and breathing rates, but now he could skip the visualization and cut straight to the calm. Breathe.
    He’d only walked partway into the adjoining car when Hannah entered the doors at the opposite end. She seemed okay, so Chris turned around and returned to his seat beside Sonny.
    Soon, Hannah joined them.
    “Well?” Sonny asked.
    “Nothing,” she said. “I can’t find a trace of him. There were some private compartments I couldn’t search, and I didn’t examine