Two hours earlier, Viktor Novak, Victoria’s dad, sat in his penthouse office overlooking the San Francisco Bay. He was on a video call with his daughter, her face focused on the screen in front of him.
"The boy is becoming a liability," Viktor said in Russian, though he'd lived in America for thirty years. Old habits died hard. "He's too intelligent. Too observant. And now he's communicating with people outside the facility."
Victoria sat in her bedroom, still in her nightgown, her hair perfectly styled despite the hour. "What do you want me to do?"
"Create a distraction," Viktor said simply. "Something dramatic. Something that will pull Damien's focus and the security team's attention away from the hospital. Give me a window. Four hours. That's all I need to move the boy somewhere more
