The cobblestones of Prague's Old Town Square glistened under the amber streetlights, rain having fallen intermittently throughout the evening. Agent Marcus Kane stood beneath the astronomical clock, its medieval figures frozen in their eternal dance, waiting for a contact who might never come. His breath formed small clouds in the October air as he checked his watch for the third time in five minutes. The rendezvous was supposed to happen at midnight, and it was now twelve-fifteen.Kane had been with British Intelligence for fifteen years, long enough to know when something felt wrong. The message had come through the usual channels, encrypted and verified, requesting an emergency meeting with a Czech asset code-named "Nightingale." But Nightingale had been dark for six months, ever since the network in Eastern Europe had started unraveling piece by piece.
The cobblestones of Prague's Old Town Square glistened under the amber streetlights, rain having fallen intermittently throughout the evening. Agent Marcus Kane stood beneath the astronomical clock, its medieval figures frozen in their eternal dance, waiting for a contact who might never come. Hi...