Monique had fallen back asleep when Rick pulled out of the parking space and took his car back out on the road. He checked his gas gauge and found he still had plenty of fuel to get him through until tomorrow.
When he found another line of cars overlooking the river, Rick pulled into a space and waited. Once again he shut down the engine but this time he stayed in the car. Monique had woken again and was staring at the river and the dark sky. This far north, the sun would only emerge for a brief time and not be out long. It wasn’t quite the midnight sun, but it would get close.
“Where are we?” she asked him.
“At the submarine races,” he snickered. It took Monique a few moments to realize what he said before she leaned over and kissed him.
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“I haven’t been to those in a long time,” she told him. The windows were beginning to steam up, as were those on the other cars.
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Finally Rick looked at his dashboard clock and decided it was time. He picked up the burner cell phone he’d bought from a street vendor a week ago and dialed the number the station manager had given him. He waited a few rings and heard it connect. Quite possibly the SVR was listening in to him right now. He didn’t care, they would have no way of knowing what the words he was about to hear meant.
“A snowstorm is headed into the city today,” the voice on the other end told him. “Residents are advised to take the noon train at the first chance before it shuts down from the drifts.” Rick broke the connection and tossed the phone out the window.
“What did you hear?” Monique asked him.
“We have big problems,” he told her. “We can’t even meet with the station manager this morning at the museum. She wants me to meet her at the first plane out to America. I pray to God she’s got new identities ready for the both of us. Because that is the only way we are going to get out of here alive.”