Page 20 of Ned
Three
Don’t die.
And maybe Hudson was being a smidgen dramatic, but as he stood on the alcove of the bell tower at one end of the infamous Charles Bridge in Old Town, Prague, the rain hard upon the cobblestones, all he saw in his brain was an old clip from an ancient movie where Tom Cruise, the spy ofMission: Impossible,nearly died on this bridge.
Or maybe it was someone else. Hudson just didn’t want it to be him.
He clutched an encrypted jump drive in his grip, his fist warm in his pocket.
The only thing warm, really, thanks to the extended practice and the fact he’d come straight from the locker room.
His three-thousand-dollar Gucci Jordaan crocodile loafers had clearly taken one for the country.
And he was hungry. In his other hand, he held his phone, and now he glanced at the recently texted picture of his contact. Light brown hair, medium build—although he looked tough enough—a scattering of whiskers.
He’d be wearing a red slicker, according to the latest text update.
He peered out into the rain.
No American spy, Tom Cruise or otherwise, in a red slicker, standing in the rain in front of one of the Gothic statues.
Legend had it that once upon a time, in the seventeenth century, heads of slain rebels were arranged on the bridge, red running through the cobblestones.
Now, just rain slicked the bridge, the lamps bleeding out wan light.
The kind of light people died in.
Yeah, this was a stupid idea. He should just go—
He turned, was nearly clobbered by a fast-walking man. Tall and dressed in a raincoat, hiking boots, and a baseball hat, he carried an umbrella, pulling it close as he hustled out into the torrent.
“Excuse me.”
He mumbled something he didn’t recognize because, of course, he didn’t speak Czech.
Just leave.
His phone buzzed in his hand, and he nearly jumped out of his sodden clothing.
Harry.
Maybe it was an emergency with Mom— “Yeah?”
“Bro! I just caught the replay of your last game. Well done on the TD catch!”
He imagined his brother hanging out in the HQ for the PEAK Rescue team back in Montana where he worked. His Australian accent bled through the line, and frankly, felt oddly like home.
“How was practice today?”
“Not great. Hey, I gotta—”
“Where are you? Are you in theshower?”
“What?No.I’m standing on the Charles Bridge, in Prague. In the rain.”
And of course, Harry asked the obvious. “Why?”
“Super great question, because actually, I don’t know.” And maybe he shouldn’t have said that much—after all, national security was on the line, but…aw, who was he kidding? He wasn’t Tom Cruise, or anyone important, and maybe he was just really, really... “I did a stupid thing.”