Here is a short sample of Moscow Down

I called Andi to bring me another Ojo Rojo. My headache was banging out the sounds of twangy Japanese and tuba music. Rory linked his tablet to my office projector as I went heads-down on my forearms at the table. “Now,” he said, “Let me show you something. Are you okay?” “Just don’t stop and keep a trash can close.” “That giant man leaning against the Texas School Book Depository—his name is Sampson—Maurice Sampson.” I reexamined the image on the wall. He’s a Sampson if ever I’ve seen one. Rory walked around me, stopping at the head of the table near the image. He circled a second area on the picture with a blue laser. “This piece of the other guy’s face matches Kelly Lake. So, you got both of your guys in one shot. Good on you.” “Do you have a front view of Kelly Lake?” “No, but this side shot matches that photograph from the Denver News.” “Then he’s not our Kelly Lake. At least, according to Carissa Scaffe. Besides, if Lake was at the depository, she would have told me.” “You’re getting too close to her, Rick. What can I say?” “You can say, I’ll keep looking.”