Zero Day_ A Novel - Mark Russinovich [112]
Ivana went into the small, second bedroom. She had bought a proper workstation for Vladimir and earlier, with a cousin and her father, had moved his main computer. Vladimir would be moving in this night, and tomorrow she and her father would finish moving in the rest of his computer equipment.
Once he was set up here, there was no rush to move anything else from their old place. She had the week. Her best friend from work, visiting family in St. Petersburg, had lent her an aging Lada to help with the move. Ivana’s plan was to be completely installed in the new apartment by the end of the next weekend. She was thrilled at the idea.
Even Vladimir was coming around. Having his own room in which to work was too inviting. Ivana was certain that the change in environment, the more open space, and a baby on the way would bring back the young man she’d always loved with such devotion.
“You’ve done well,” her father said.
Ivana smiled. “Thank you. I found it, but Vlad is paying.”
The man grunted. There’d been no vodka that day, and for that she was grateful. Tonight would be different, though. “Let’s get your man then. We’ll finish up his things tomorrow while you are at work.”
“Thank you … Grandpa.”
“Ded? What are you talking about?”
Ivana touched her stomach. “It was confirmed Friday. Don’t tell Vlad. He doesn’t know yet.”
“Grandpa! I like the sound of that.” His eyes grew warm. “Have you decided on a name if it’s a boy?”
57
MOSCOW, RUSSIAN FEDERATION
METROPOL HOTEL
SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 3
6:33 P.M.
Jeff had been surprised at how much the Metropol Hotel resembled the office building for Fischerman, Platt & Cohen. As he examined the art deco motif, he decided they’d been built around the same time and had been influenced by the same architectural style. The coincidence was eerie. Yet the building could not have been better located. It was across the street from the Bolshoi Theater and just a short walk from the Kremlin, not that they’d have time to take in the sights.
In their room they showered and changed, discussing plans as they could.
“I’m for just going to the address tonight,” Daryl said. “If it’s a business, or someone else is living in the apartment, we might as well find out. Then we can start fresh in the morning.”
“I agree.” Winging it like this held a certain excitement, but he couldn’t help second-guessing his decisions. Events were sweeping them along. It was reassuring to have Daryl’s steady presence. He didn’t think this was something he could do alone. “We don’t have much time. Ready when you are.”
Jeff had dressed in gray running shoes, dark wool slacks, a long-sleeved wool shirt, and a lined black leather jacket he’d bought in Manhattan. A pair of gloves was tucked into the jacket’s pockets, along with a black watch cap. Daryl came out of the bathroom and laughed. The only difference in their attire was that her leather jacket was a dark brown, and instead of a watch cap, she had a scarf folded into her jacket pocket.
Downstairs the couple asked for a taxi with a driver who spoke English. It was apparently not an unusual request, as the doorman merely gestured and one of the waiting cars pulled from the line and drove to the entrance.
As they slid into the backseat, Daryl asked the driver, “Do you know this address?” She handed him a slip of paper. The man glanced at the paper, nodded, and drove off.
“I can’t believe we’re here,” Jeff said, watching the trees and buildings whip by outside the car.
“It is surreal,” Daryl agreed. “Let’s think about what’s going to happen if we meet Superphreak. Any thoughts on how to handle the approach?”
Jeff shook his head. “We’ll just have to play it by ear. Some things you just can’t plan ahead for.”
58
MOSCOW, RUSSIAN FEDERATION
DMITROSVSKY ADMINISTRATIVE DISTRICT
SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 3
6:56 P.M.
Manfield instructed Vakha to