📖 The Agent Kom Series

Kotto was waking in a warm, humid haze, the kind that rises off the Wouri before the sun burns it away.

The CSATA briefing room smelled of disinfectant and cold coffee.

Vandenberg's control room buzzed like a sleepless hive.

The base mess smelled of toast and chlorine.

The 4x4 had been eating the trail for six hours.

Kotto, three seventeen in the afternoon.

Twenty three nineteen.

Private hangar, south side of Vandenberg.

Los Angeles airport, Tom Bradley terminal.

Kotto, six oh two.

CSATA basement, 8am.

Sobolev Institute, 2 p.m.

Irina Sokolova's office, 5 pm.

Sokolov dacha, north shore of Lake Ob, midnight.

Sobolev Institute, 9am.

Cafe Kom, Kotto, two in the morning.

Rental car, snow covered parking of the Sobolev institute, seven in the evening.

Sobolev Institute, cooled server room, eight in the evening.

Novosibirsk Airport, tarmac swept by wind, eight o'clock.

Café Kom, Kotto, seven o'clock.

CSATA, black room, five o'clock.

Tour Ping An, seventy-fourth floor.

Nanshan warehouse, ten p.m.

Discreet Shekou apartment, midnight.