But Zivon oughtn’t to have let his frustration with the ambassador cloud his perception. He should have noted both of the men following him immediately, not just the obvious one.

His hand tightened around the handle of his briefcase. He didn’t like carrying all this with him to the OB, but he hadn’t the time to go home first. But what if his new shadows meant to mug him? The thought of being without all his identification, without the few remaining scraps of his former life, didn’t bear thinking about.

Perhaps he should have spent less time running as a lad and more time learning how to fight, like Evgeni. Though in this particular situation, the one could serve him as well as the other, he supposed.

Something bubbled up in his veins, spilled over.

No. He wasn’t going to run. Not from anyone. He’d had enough of that. And so, rather than continuing toward the OB, he seized the cover that a passing band of secretaries offered and ducked into an alley. It had been a tight knot of women, and their distance between him and his pursuers was such that they would have completely blocked their view of him for three and a half seconds. All he needed to vanish.

Though there’d be no question where he vanished to, so he sprinted to the end of the alley, zigged this way and zagged that until, five minutes later, he smirked upon emerging back onto the main street and spotting the less skilled of the followers striding down a cross street, shaking his head. And the more skilled standing with hands on his hips, staring at the OB.

It wouldn’t look odd to anyone, given the Naval Reserves uniform he wore. Zivon switched his briefcase to his left hand—just in case the fellow got wily and he did need to put to use his years of scrapping with Evgeni—and moved up behind him. Not slowly, not stealthily. At the pace of every other pedestrian out here, so that his footfalls wouldn’t sound abnormal.

When he’d drawn even with him, he said, “I do not believe we have been properly introduced. Though I saw you at the wedding yesterday.”

The fellow jumped, spun. And grinned. “Well, this is a first.” At Zivon’s lifted brow, he added, “No one’s ever outfoxed me when I’m tailing them. If you ever tire of the codebreaking nonsense, tell Hall to refer you to V. We could use you.”

Zivon had no idea who V was and what use they could have for him. But he had to admit that the fellow’s demeanor eased a bit of his uncertainty. “Hall told you to follow me, I presume?”