Strategic Moves Read Free

High. The sidewalks were busy with people out for the evening.
    Ziggy continued to talk about western movies while Petra pointed out the various shops she wanted to visit later in the week.
    Frank couldn't shake the feeling that Ziggy and Petra had lied about their father and then changed the subject. He also did not believe their innocent act concerning Aleksandr's gun. Young junior diplomats did not carry weapons, especially in a foreign country. In fact, the only people who went about armed in a foreign country were secret agents. And why had Aleksandr looked worried and nervous when Petra mentioned that she would write to her father?
    They walked several blocks before Joe, who was in the lead, stopped in front of a pub.
    The building that housed the pub looked hundreds of years old and was in the Tudor style, with whitewashed stucco and heavy gray wooden beams. The windows were large and covered with a crisscross wooden lattice. Plants hung in the window, and a large sign over the door identified it as the Red Bull pub.
    "This looks like a good place," Joe announced.
    "It looks friendly enough," Petra said.
    "If it serves food," Frank said, "it's a friend of Joe's."
    Ziggy laughed.
    Joe frowned at Frank and held the door open, letting Ziggy and Petra in, but stepping in front of Frank and nudging him back.
    Frank held the door open, smiled, and followed Joe. Frank looked around the pub. The smell of smoke, grease, and furniture oil permeated the air. The highly polished oak walls were bare except for a Union Jack and a picture of Queen Elizabeth II. On a back wall, Frank saw a well-punctured dart board.
    Noise from the tables floated in the air as thick as the pipe and cigarette smoke and became one constant drone.
    They found a table in the corner by the window and ordered.
    "What does your father do for the telephone company?" Frank asked. He was trying not to press the issue, afraid of scaring off Ziggy and Petra, but Ziggy's remark had sparked Frank's interest. So had Aleksandr's gun - and Aleksandr's apparent fear of Ziggy's father.
    Again Ziggy and Petra exchanged glances.
    "He is an administrator," Ziggy answered.
    "And what does your father do?" Petra countered.
    "He's a private detective," Joe answered. "So are we."
    "You are too young to be detectives," Petra declared. "You are the same age as Ziggy and I."
    "We help our father on cases from time to time," Frank said.
    "We even work on our own cases," Joe added. "We have a pretty good track record."
    "So you are in sports, too?" Ziggy asked seriously.
    Joe frowned at Ziggy. "What?"
    Frank laughed. " 'Track record' is an American expression. It means we've had success."
    Joe ordered a hamburger, and the others chose Welsh rabbit. The new friends ate slowly as they exchanged small talk about the differences and similarities in schools, boys and girls, parents, and everything else. Everything except the Zigonevs' father.
    They left the pub an hour and a half later and headed back to Brasenose. The streets were all but deserted. They had begun to cross an alley when a voice stopped them.
    "Excuse me," said a man just inside the alley.
    The group stopped and turned. Frank looked at the two men who faced the four teenagers. The older man was short and stocky, his unshaven face flecked with gray and black stubble. The large bags beneath his eyes gave him a tired and haggard appearance. The cap he was wearing made his head look flat.
    The other man was a couple of inches taller and was also thinner and younger than the first. He seemed nervous, always looking behind him or out into the street.
    "May we help you?" Frank asked. The two men didn't look trustworthy to Frank. And the younger man's twitching bothered him.
    The older man stared at Frank, then turned his gaze to Ziggy and Petra. After a moment he said, "Yes, you can."
    Then, like a snake uncoiling to strike, the older man pulled a small blackjack from his pocket and struck Joe on the chin. Joe staggered to one