They eventually joined the P384 and moved north into the plains and cultivated fields. They encountered few cars and, after an hour’s drive, reached Kemerovo, the capital of the Oblast of the same name. Syssoi had to turn on his headlights to avoid an unexpected police check and he drove calmly to the industrial area on the outskirts of the city. He stopped the SUV about fifty meters from an old cannery. Its red brick walls glistened in the fine rain, dripping on the windows plunged into darkness. A single lamppost valiantly distilled a semblance of light on the façade and the street cluttered with materials intended for neighbouring factories. Darya examined the place carefully, though her sight wasn’t as good as her companion’s. The place seemed deserted.
“Well,” she said after a while.
