red moon over west vrginia - 23. escape

by jeremy witherington

part 23 of 36

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after molotov left lord curzon, he did not go back to his hotel. instead he went to a little diner a few blocks from the hotel, one he had stopped in at several times during his stay. there was a door in the back of the diner, beside the rest room. he had tried the door a couple of times on his previous visits, and found it unlocked. the same sleepy individual was behind the counter as on the previous occasions. just coffee, please. molotov said to the man. he placed a silver dollar on the counter and proceeded to the back of the diner. the door was unlocked, as before. he exited, closed the door carefully behind him, and went down an alley. the alley led to a street of gray buildings which mostly housed auto repair shops and auto parts wholesalers. the street led to the railroad station. a freight train was getting ready to leave the staton. its whistle blew. the railroad police had made a sweep of hoboes just two days previously, and molotov trusted that they would expect the vagabonds to stay away for a couple of more days at least. molotov jumped on to an open boxcar with surprising agility. he found the bocxar cleaner and more comfortable than he had ever found similar facilities in his own country. he rolled his gray overcoat into a pillow and placed it under his hat, careful to keep his pistol in a pocket of the coat that he could reach in one motion upon suddenly awakening, if need be. the train pulled out. he went to sleep. * back in lord curzon’s office, catherine continued looking out the window at the gray sky. she heard the whistle of the freight train. rain began to fall. behind her, lord curzon composed a carefully worded telegram. next