Free The Spy Who Came for Christmas by David Morrell

Farther to the right, in another room, a curtained window revealed the flickering illumination of what seemed to be a television.
    Determined to be thorough, Andrei glanced toward the roof. The dim reflection of the front-door lights allowed him to see snow accumulating on a satellite dish.
    He didn't study the house in an obvious way Instead, his trained eyes took in everything as he walked past, seeming to admire the picturesque winter scene. The hiss of the snow almost muffled the sound of his footsteps. After twenty seconds, the house was no longer in sight, which also meant that he could no longer be seen from it.
    With no more footprints to follow, there wasn't any point in continuing down the lane. Again, disappointment took hold of him. Stopping, he assessed the situation. His initial guess had probably been correct, he reluctantly decided. The tracks belonged to the same person.
    But if someone had recently come back to the house, wouldn't there be more lights inside? Was it reasonable to believe that the person who lived there had gone to bed early on Christmas Eve, a night most Americans obsessed about because of gifts they were eager to receive?
    What time is it?
    Andrei pushed back the sleeve of his ski jacket and exposed the face on his digital watch. Obeying a habit from the military, he was careful to shield the watch with his hand before he pressed a button that caused its red numbers to glow. Quickly, he released the button and extinguished the glow.
    The numbers showed 9:41.
    If whoever lived in the house was elderly, it wouldn't be out of the question for him or her to go to bed early on Christmas Eve, Andrei decided. The flickering light from the television suggested that someone was in bed, perhaps watching one of those sugary holiday movies like It's a Wonderful Life, the title of which always made Andrei scoff.
    A wonderful life? The only true parts of that movie were the old guy losing the bank's money and the rich guy wanting to control the bank so he could charge high interest rates and take people's homes. If the story had been true to life, the hero-- what's his name? James Stewart--would have succeeded in killing himself when he jumped into the half-frozen river.
    And why was he so damned skinny? Andrei thought. Did he starve himself? Only in America, where there's so much food, do people starve themselves so they can be skinny. Go fight rebels in Chechnya on the half rations we were given. You'll soon change your mind about wanting to be skinny.
    Without warning, the Pakhan's angry voice shouted through the earbud under Andrei's watchman's cap.
    "Didyou find him?"
    "Not yet," Andrei murmured into the microphone concealed on his jacket, keeping his voice as low as possible.
    "When the clients learn we don't have what they paid for--"
    'We're searching as hard as we can."
    "If I'm forced to return the money, I swear I'll help them track you down."
    "So you told me earlier. I haven't forgotten."
    I've never been disloyal to you, Andrei thought. I've always done more than you asked.
    "I just need a little extra time," he said into the microphone, concealing his bitterness.
    "Koshkayob, you don't seem to grasp how little time you have."
    Andrei's stomach hardened. He resented the insult as much as he hated being threatened--but nowhere near as much as he was furious that the Pakhan had chosen to support the outsiders against him.
    "I can't talk any longer." Anger more than necessity made him end the transmission abruptly.
    He turned and faced the snow-hazed lane along which he'd searched. As he went back the way he'd come, he knew he needed to hurry to rejoin Mikhail and Yakov, to search other places, to make up for the time he'd squandered.
    But some instinct kept him from rushing.
    The house appeared again, this time on his right. Again he studied it as he passed, moving closer so he'd be able to see through the gloom. The flickering light from the television. The Christmas-tree lights. The