Ian and Dima: The End of the Beginning
From Sparks to Flame — Moon over Berlin, B3C31
Ian shook his head and painted a fake smile on his face. He mouthed Russian words so quiet only he, Borin, and Peltsin could hear. “Dima and I win, after all. What do you think about that? Fooled ya!”
As Peltsin’s face turned white, Ian laughed out loud.
“Enough, everyone!” snapped the police detective. “I don’t know what is happening, but I will not be played for a fool …” He glared at the Soviet diplomat. “Whatever this game is, my part is over.”
He glared into the jail cell at Ian. “And you! Wait here!”
Ian pointed at the locked cell door and shrugged.
Two hours later, he walked out of the police station alone, squinting into the last rays of the setting sun. The volcano cast a dark shadow across the bay as rubies sparkled off crests of marching waves.
He still felt hollow inside, void of the purpose and connection he’d come to take for granted.
A waving hand grabbed his attention.
“Mark!” he shouted as he hustled across the street. His friend was holding down a table at a sidewalk cafe. “Oh, my God, I’m so glad to see you!”
