The Grand Continental Hotel was a towering monument to old-world opulence and unchecked criminal wealth. Located in the absolute center of the city's neutral zone, it was a sanctuary where the most dangerous predators on the eastern seaboard gathered to conduct their bloody business disguised in tailored suits and expensive champagne. Tonight, the sprawling, gilded ballroom on the penthouse level was completely sealed off to the public. It belonged entirely to the Russian Bratva.
We arrived in a heavily armored convoy of five black SUVs. The October fog had rolled back into the city streets, clinging heavily to the wet pavement and masking our silent approach. Viktor parked the lead vehicle directly in front of the sweeping marble steps of the main entrance. The hotel's elite security det
