Order to Kill

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I again owe a great debt to the people who helped me get Order to Kill from blank page to finished novel. Simon Lipskar, Sloan Harris, and Emily Bestler, of course. My mother, who has the keen eye of a true fan of the genre. Rod Gregg for keeping me from making any embarrassing firearms errors and for tolerating my political musings. Ryan Steck for lending me his encyclopedic knowledge of the Rappverse. And finally, my wife, Kim, who has to live with my occasional spasms of doubt as well as the general moping that inevitably follows.

CENTRAL SIBERIA

GRISHA Azarov steered clear of the main street, taking a random path as he walked through what had once been one of Russia’s many oil boomtowns. The satellite photos provided to him had been out of date, depicting prosperity and activity that had disappeared so completely it was hard to believe either ever existed.

Wood buildings constructed in better times were jumbled together on both sides of him. Peeling and soot stained, most were now abandoned. Curtains, wet from the recent rain, fluttered through broken windows, slapping audibly against the frames.

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