Chapter Forty-Five
Moscow, Russia
Illarion stood before the chairman of the Directorate. The bald, square-jawed major general ranked above Illarion’s own Colonel Isakov, who currently waited behind Illarion with the snake named Kazmin.
The major general finished typing on his keyboard and gave Illarion a long, considered gaze. The whites of his eyes were the color of toothpaste, and his forest-green service jacket was unzipped a few inches down his broad chest, in line with his medals and ribbons.
‘Colonel, how long have you been aware of your hunters’ presence in Prague?’ he asked.
‘I confirmed it during a phone call half an hour ago,’ Illarion said. ‘And I’ve ordered them to extract immediately.’
‘Do you expect they will follow your orders?’
Illarion swallowed. ‘No. And if I were
