THE INTERROGATOR

The Lion's Den

Cole followed Ivan Tarasov through a labyrinth of marble hallways, each one more opulent than the last. The Orlov compound was a fortress disguised as a palace. Crystal chandeliers hung from vaulted ceilings. Persian rugs covered floors that had cost more than most people's houses. But Cole noticed the details others would miss: the security cameras tucked into the corners, the reinforced doors, the guards stationed at every intersection.

The compound breathed wealth and power. And danger.

Ivan didn't speak. He walked with his head forward, his spine rigid, his hands clasped behind his back. The tattoos on his neck seemed to writhe in the dim light. Cole had seen those tattoos before. Each one told a story. Each one marked a kill.

They passed through a set of massive oak doors and entered a grand sitting room. Leather furniture. A fireplace that could roast an entire pig. Oil paintings of men in military uniforms, their faces stern and unforgiving.

And in the center of it all, sitting in a high-backed chair like a king on his throne, was Konstantin Orlov.

The man was older than his photographs suggested. Sixties. Maybe seventies. But his eyes were sharp and clear, the eyes of a man who missed nothing. His silver hair was swept back from a broad forehead. His face was lined with decades of command and violence. He wore a simple black suit, no tie, and a gold signet ring on his left pinky.

"Cole Brennan," Konstantin said, his voice deep and resonant. "I've been expecting you."

Cole stopped a respectful distance from the chair. "Mr. Orlov."

"Please. Sit." Konstantin gestured to a leather armchair across from him. "Ivan, leave us."

Ivan's jaw tightened. "Sir—"

"I said leave us."

Ivan shot Cole a look of pure hatred, then turned and left the room. The doors clicked shut behind him.

Konstantin studied Cole for a long moment. His gaze was clinical. Assessing. The gaze of a man who had spent a lifetime judging the worth of other men.

"My associate tells me you have a particular talent," Konstantin said. "He says you can read people. See through their masks. Find the truth they're trying to hide."

"That's what I do, Mr. Orlov."

"It's a rare ability. Most people live their entire lives without ever seeing the truth. They choose comfortable lies. They surround themselves with people who tell them what they want to hear." Konstantin leaned forward slightly. "I'm not most people."

"No, you're not."

"I have a problem, Cole. A cancer in my organization. Someone is feeding information to the Feds. Someone I trusted." His eyes hardened. "I need to find them. Before they destroy everything I've built."

"I understand."

"I don't think you do." Konstantin stood and walked to the fireplace. He stared into the flames. "This organization is my legacy. My family. My life's work. It's not just about money. It's about power. Control. Survival in a world that would crush us if we showed weakness."

Cole waited. He knew when to speak and when to stay silent.

"I've used other interrogators," Konstantin continued. "None of them could find the mole. Either they weren't good enough, or they were part of the conspiracy themselves. But you're different. I know who you are, Cole. I know what you did for the CIA. I know why you left."

Cole's pulse quickened, but his face remained impassive. "You know a lot about me."

"I know you're a man who lost everything. A man who was betrayed by the people he trusted most. A man who has been waiting for an opportunity to make things right." Konstantin turned from the fire. "I'm offering you that opportunity."

"What's the price?"

"Find the mole. Deliver them to me. And in exchange..." Konstantin's expression was unreadable. "In exchange, I'll give you access to information you've been searching for. Information about the people who killed your wife. I know who they are, Cole. And I know where to find them."

The words hit Cole like a physical blow. He had been hunting the truth for five years. Five years of dead ends and false leads. Five years of watching his back, wondering if the next person he trusted would be the one to betray him. And now this man was offering him the answer.

"How do you know about my wife?" Cole asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I know a lot of things, Cole. I know that the people who killed her weren't just ordinary criminals. They were professionals. Government professionals. And I know that the man who gave the order is still alive. Still active. Still operating."

Cole felt his hands clench into fists. He forced them to relax.

"Three days," Konstantin said. "You have three days to find the mole. After that, I'll consider our agreement void. And we'll have to find other... incentives to keep you working."

Cole stood up slowly. "I need access to your people. Full access. No restrictions. And I need to be able to move freely in and out of the compound."

"Done."

"I need a list of everyone who has access to your sensitive operations. Everyone from your inner circle down to the lowest courier."

"It will be delivered to your room by morning."

"And I need a phone line. Encrypted. Private."

Konstantin nodded. "Anything else?"

Cole met his eyes. "I need you to understand that if anything happens to my daughter, all bets are off. I will burn this organization to the ground. Starting with you."

The smile that spread across Konstantin's face was thin and cold. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

---

Cole was escorted to his quarters by a silent guard. The room was lavish—a four-poster bed, a writing desk, a private bathroom with a marble shower. But Cole wasn't interested in the luxury. He swept the room for bugs, checked the windows for tampering, and examined every corner for hidden cameras.

He found three microphones and one camera. He disabled them all.

When he was sure he was alone, he sat down at the desk and pulled out a small notebook. He began writing: names, observations, patterns. Viktor's words echoed in his mind. Sergei meeting with a Fed. A file changing hands. A conspiracy that extended far beyond the Orlov family.

There was a knock at the door.

Cole closed the notebook and slid it into his pocket. "Come in."

The door opened to reveal a woman. Tall. Blonde. Sharp cheekbones and piercing green eyes. She wore a fitted black jacket and trousers, and her platinum hair was pulled back in a severe ponytail. A small tattoo peeked out from behind her left ear—a bird in flight.

"Mr. Brennan," she said, her voice smooth as glass. "I'm Katya. Katya Volodina. The boss sent me to assist you."

Cole studied her carefully. She stood with her weight evenly distributed, her hands visible, her posture relaxed but ready. Former military, he guessed. Maybe intelligence. She was beautiful, but beauty was just another weapon in this world.

"I don't need assistance," he said.

"With respect, you do." She stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. "You don't know the people here. You don't know the politics. You don't know who to trust. I do."

"You think I can trust you?"

"I think you can trust that I have my own reasons for helping you." She moved closer, her eyes never leaving his. "The mole isn't the real problem, Mr. Brennan. The mole is a symptom. The real problem is much bigger. And if you don't figure it out, you're going to die in this compound. Along with everyone you care about."

Cole felt a chill run down his spine. "What do you know?"

"I know that the person you're looking for is closer than you think. I know that they're working with someone inside your own government. And I know that they're planning something that will make the Orlov family's problems look like a small-time operation."

She was holding something back. Cole could see it in the way her eyes flicked away, the way her fingers twitched. She was afraid. But not of him. Of something else.

"Who are you really working for?" Cole asked.

"Let's just say I'm not as loyal to the Orlovs as they think I am." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small flash drive. "This contains everything I've gathered on the conspiracy. Names. Dates. Locations. It's incomplete, but it's a start."

She tossed the drive to Cole. He caught it, examining it carefully.

"Why are you helping me?"

Katya smiled. It was a cold smile, a predator's smile. "Because we both want the same thing, Mr. Brennan. We want to burn it all down."

Before Cole could respond, she turned and walked out of the room. The door clicked shut behind her.

Cole stared at the flash drive in his hand. Five years of searching. Five years of waiting. And now, in one day, he had two leads: Konstantin's promise and Katya's drive.

But something was wrong. He could feel it. A sixth sense that had kept him alive through years of danger.

Someone was watching him. He could feel the weight of their gaze, the pressure of their attention. He didn't turn. He didn't react. He just sat there, the flash drive in his hand, and waited.

The security camera in the corner had a small red light. It had been dark when he entered the room. Now it was glowing.

The people who had killed his wife knew he was here. They knew he was hunting them. And they weren't going to let him succeed.

Cole tucked the flash drive into his pocket and walked to the window. Outside, the Orlov compound sprawled across the landscape, a fortress of wealth and power. Somewhere in that labyrinth, the mole was hiding. Somewhere, the conspiracy was waiting.

He had three days.

He was going to need every second.