77
Peter
I step into the interrogation shed, where a young woman sits bound to a chair. Her small face is decorated with bruises, and her lower lip is split, giving her a pouty look. Her gaze, however, is clear and defiant.
No pushover, this pretty sniper. I wonder if Yan gave her those bruises during interrogation, or if they’re from the fight she put up during her capture yesterday.
Hearing footsteps, I turn around and see Yan and Ilya entering the room.
“We’ve just gotten the files on the men whose names she gave us,” Ilya says, holding out his phone. “Our doppelgängers have quite a resume. All four are former Delta Force, same unit. They and a few of their buddies got court-martialed fifteen years ago for gang-r****g a sixteen-year-old girl in Pakistan. Six of them got arrested, b
