Red Lies

Начало книги

Sofiya Viktorovna Litvinova awoke with a start, her eyes popping open. It took her a few moments to realise someone was pounding on the door. Pushing her tangled dark hair out of her face, she grimaced at the bad taste in her mouth. Glancing at the alarm clock on the bedside table, she had to blink several times to make out the time: it was four in the morning.

Struggling to get out of bed without tripping on the bedsheets, she left the warmth behind and groaned when her bare feet touched the cold concrete floor. Sitting up, she noticed from her bedroom window that snow was falling outside. Though it was almost the end of February, spring was still a long way away in the Soviet capital.

The furious drumming continued; she wrapped herself in a blanket to hide her nudity before crossing through the bedroom. Entering the small kitchen, which doubled as a living room with a couch and a bookshelf, she flicked the single ceiling lamp on. The drumming only stopped when she opened the front door.

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