THE INTERROGATOR

The First Name

Cole didn't sleep.

He spent the night studying Katya's flash drive on a laptop he'd smuggled into the compound. The files were extensive. Financial records. Communication logs. Photographs of people he didn't recognize. But one name kept appearing. A name that made his blood run cold.

Calvin Shaw.

The man who had ordered his wife's murder. The man who had framed him for the crime. The man who had been hunting him for five years.

Shaw was CIA. Former special operations. Now running a shadow operation that spanned multiple agencies. And according to Katya's files, he had a direct line to someone inside the Orlov organization.

The mole wasn't just feeding information to the Feds. They were feeding it to Shaw.

Cole closed the laptop as the first light of dawn crept through the curtains. He had three days. Three days to find the mole. Three days to unravel a conspiracy that went deeper than he ever imagined.

There was a knock at the door.

"Mr. Brennan." A guard's voice. "The boss requests your presence in the east wing. He has someone for you to meet."

Cole stood up, adjusted his jacket, and followed the guard through the compound. The east wing was different from the rest of the mansion. More austere. Less opulent. The walls were bare concrete, the floors industrial tile. It felt like a prison.

They stopped outside a steel door. The guard unlocked it and gestured inside.

Cole stepped into the room. It was an interrogation chamber. Bare walls. A single table. Two chairs. And sitting in one of the chairs, handcuffed to the table, was a man in his late forties. Balding. Bearded. Terrified.

"This is Anton," the guard said. "He was a logistics coordinator for the family. We found him with classified documents in his apartment last night."

Cole studied the man. Anton was shaking. His eyes were red-rimmed. His hands trembled against the table. He looked like a man who had been through hell.

"Leave us," Cole said.

The guard hesitated. "The boss said—"

"I said leave us."

The guard left.

Cole sat down across from Anton. He didn't speak. He just watched. The man's breathing. His posture. The way his eyes darted around the room. Fear. Genuine fear. But not the fear of a guilty man.

"Anton," Cole said softly. "I'm here to help you."

Anton's eyes widened. "You? Help me? They told me you were the interrogator. The one who never fails. They said you'd make me confess."

"Confess to what?"

Anton's face crumpled. "I don't know. I don't know what they want. I didn't do anything. I swear to God, I didn't do anything."

Cole leaned forward. "Tell me about the documents."

Anton swallowed hard. "They were old. Years old. I was just looking through them. I was trying to find—" He stopped abruptly, his face going pale.

"Find what?"

"Nothing. I was trying to find nothing."

"Anton." Cole's voice was calm. Patient. "I'm not here to hurt you. I'm here to find the truth. If you didn't do anything wrong, you have nothing to fear from me. But I need you to tell me everything."

Anton's breathing was ragged. His eyes kept flicking toward the door. He was terrified of someone. Not Cole. Someone else.

"I can't," Anton whispered. "If I tell you, they'll kill my family."

"Who?"

"I don't know his name. He was tall. Shaved head. He had a tattoo on his neck. A cross with flames."

Cole's pulse quickened. Ivan Tarasov. The enforcer. The man who had dragged Viktor away the night before.

"Anton," Cole said carefully. "Did Ivan give you those documents?"

Anton's face went white. He didn't answer, but he didn't need to. Cole could see the truth in his eyes.

"Listen to me," Cole said. "I know you're scared. But if Ivan is involved, you're in more danger than you realize. He's not going to let you walk out of here. You know too much."

"I don't know anything."

"You know enough to be a threat. That's all that matters."

Anton began to cry. Ugly, racking sobs that shook his entire body. Cole felt a pang of sympathy, but he didn't show it. He couldn't. Sympathy was a weakness in this world.

"Anton, look at me."

Anton looked up through tear-filled eyes.

"I'm going to ask you one question. And I need you to answer honestly. If you do, I'll do everything I can to protect you and your family. Do you understand?"

Anton nodded weakly.

"Did you give classified information to anyone outside the organization?"

Anton's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. And then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he said, "No."

Cole studied him. The man was terrified. But he was telling the truth. The tears, the shaking, the fear—they were real. Anton was a pawn. A tool. Someone had set him up.

"Thank you," Cole said. "I believe you."

Anton's eyes widened with surprise. "You do?"

"I do." Cole stood up. "Now I need you to stay calm. I'm going to talk to the boss. I'm going to get you out of here. But you need to trust me."

Anton nodded frantically. "I will. I'll trust you. Please, just get me out. Please."

---

Cole walked out of the interrogation room and found Ivan waiting in the hallway. The enforcer's face was a mask of cold fury.

"What did he tell you?" Ivan demanded.

"He told me he didn't do anything."

Ivan's eyes narrowed. "He's lying."

"No, he's not. He's telling the truth. He's a scapegoat."

"A scapegoat for what?"

Cole met his gaze. "That's what I'm going to find out."

Ivan stepped closer. His massive frame blocked the hallway. "You think you're so clever, don't you? You think you can walk into this family and start making accusations."

"I'm not making accusations. I'm making observations. There's a difference."

"There's no difference. You're a threat. And threats have a way of disappearing in this organization."

Cole didn't flinch. "Is that a threat, Ivan?"

"It's a promise."

The two men stared at each other. The tension in the hallway was thick enough to cut with a knife. And then, without warning, Ivan's phone buzzed. He answered it, listened for a moment, and his expression shifted. Something changed in his eyes.

"Very well," he said into the phone. "I'll tell him."

He hung up and turned to Cole. "The boss wants to see you. Now."

---

Konstantin was in his study, surrounded by books he'd never read. He was standing by the window, staring out at the grounds. When Cole entered, he didn't turn.

"Tell me about Anton," Konstantin said.

"He's innocent. Someone set him up."

Konstantin turned slowly. "And you know this how?"

"I know because I can see it. The fear, the confusion, the desperation. He has no idea what's happening to him. Someone put those documents in his apartment to make him look guilty."

Konstantin studied Cole for a long moment. "You're certain?"

"I'm certain."

"The documents were real. We verified them."

"Then someone else is leaking information. Someone who wanted Anton to take the fall."

Konstantin was silent for a long moment. "Do you know who that someone might be?"

Cole didn't answer immediately. He was weighing his options. Ivan was clearly involved. But how deep did it go? Was Ivan working alone, or was he part of something bigger?

"I have a suspect," Cole said carefully. "But I need more evidence before I can be sure."

"Who?"

"I can't tell you yet. If I'm wrong, I'll destroy an innocent man's reputation. If I'm right, I need to be able to prove it."

Konstantin nodded slowly. "You're careful. I like that. But remember, you have three days. And you've already used one."

"I haven't forgotten."

"Good." Konstantin walked back to his chair and sat down. "There's something else. My son, Sergei. He's been asking about you. He wants to meet you. Personally."

Cole felt a flash of unease. Viktor's words echoed in his mind. Sergei meeting with a Fed. Sergei making deals. Sergei running his own operation.

"I'd like that," Cole said carefully. "I'd like to meet Sergei."

Konstantin smiled. "I thought you might. He'll be here tonight. We have a dinner in the main hall. Family. Trusted associates. You'll be there."

"It's an honor."

"It's an opportunity." Konstantin's eyes narrowed. "Use it wisely."

---

Cole returned to his room and locked the door. He sat down at the desk and opened his notebook. The pieces were starting to come together.

Anton was a plant. Someone had set him up to take the fall for the mole. That someone was likely Ivan Tarasov. But Ivan was too obvious. He was too aggressive, too openly hostile. If he was the mole, he'd be dead by now.

No. Ivan was involved, but he was just another pawn. A powerful pawn, yes, but still a pawn. Someone else was pulling the strings.

Sergei was the obvious choice. The ambitious son. The one who wanted to overthrow his father. And Viktor had seen him meeting with a Fed.

But something didn't feel right. It was too clean. Too neat.

Cole stared at his notebook, the names blurring together. And then, like a cold wind, a thought struck him.

What if it wasn't Ivan or Sergei?

What if the mole was someone else entirely? Someone who had been hiding in plain sight from the beginning. Someone who had access to everything. Someone who was trusted by everyone.

Someone like Katya.

Cole sat back in his chair, his mind racing. Katya had given him the flash drive. Katya had warned him about the conspiracy. Katya had positioned herself as his ally.

But what if it was all a game? What if she was playing him the same way she played everyone else?

His phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number.

*You're getting closer. But you're looking in the wrong direction.*

Cole stared at the phone. His heart was pounding. Whoever this was, they knew what he was doing. They knew who he was talking to. They had eyes everywhere.

He typed a reply: *Who is this?*

The answer came back immediately: *Someone who wants you to survive tonight.*

Cole's blood went cold. Tonight. The dinner. Sergei.

He was walking into a trap.

And he had no idea who had set it.