AN EVENING IN MOSCOW ( 175 words)
By Neel Anil Panicker
The man retrieved the paper out of his shirt pocket, and read its contents__one more time.
Half past six. St. Basil’s Cathedral. West Entrance. Black bag. Ten million dollars.
He opened the ice box.
‘Nothing like Johnnie Walker. Best antidote for frayed nerves.’
A lifetime lived out of hotels had given Liam Yang Lee, Chief Liasion Agent of the People’s Republic of China a yen for the high life.
Two pegs down and he was all set for the rendezvous.
A minute minute later a diminutive man with an odd limp stepped out of the revolving glass doors of Moscow Hotel. As the cool foggy December evening air around Red Square hit him with a fury, the man instinctively pulled the collars of his Armani leather jacket. His other hand held an off-white duffel bag.
Across the street and a hundred feet above, atop a highrise right above the ever busy Beluga Caviar Bar, a man turned his gaze into the telescopic lens, took aim and fired.
A President’s secrets, especially America’s, don’t sell cheap.