OOM: Khabarovsk, Siberia, USSR, 1955

[redintheledger]

Outside the KGB field office in Khabarovsk, the September weather is turning towards winter with a vengeance. Inside, well. Given it's after six on a Saturday, Natasha doesn't quite care what the temperature is doing. The oven's heat will last until she feels up to go back to her apartment. But Izmaylov is back from China, and had stomped around pointedly until she let him fire up the oven.

(He'd wanted her to do it; she had stared at him coolly, taping a letter-opener casually against her fingers until the agent backed off.)

Mostly, the office is nearly silent. Izmaylov is typing up a report at the other end, Natasha is sorting through (and fixing) the filing system, and occasionally Chigrakov the guard pokes his head in from the foyer.

It's much, much better than being in her apartment.

Comments

[nerves_of_ice]

He's been in the city for two full days now. This is the third.

Long enough to put the time to good use; long enough to get a sense of her routine, her habits, the pulse of her days -- early to rise, early to work, late leaving, and late nights as well, if the lamplight from her apartment window at all hours is any indication. He's certain it is.

He's thought about how (and when, and where) to approach her, as well; after all, it's been a while, and a lot has happened between then and now.

In the end, he decides on a semi-public place, and a cover premise that should pass any scrutiny. It gets him past the guard, to start with; what happens next remains to be seen.



"Excuse me."

Fully aware that the guard is watching for any sign of trouble, he raps on the doorframe and politely announces himself from the entry.

"I have a report that needs translating, and heard there might be someone here who could help."