IRINA VOLKOV
I sat with the photograph for exactly four minutes before I got up and walked down the hall and knocked on Nikolai's door.
He opened it immediately. Still dressed, which meant he hadn't slept either.
I held up the phone.
He looked at the photograph. Then at Viktor's message. His expression didn't change but his jaw set in a controlled fury.
He took the phone from my hand without asking, forwarded the image and number to Dmitri, and handed it back.
"Go to sleep," he said.
"He's outside this building—I mean, I checked, he's not there. But he might still be...."
"He was outside this building. Present tense, he's in a car two blocks away with four of my men watching him." He held my gaze. "He cannot get in. He cannot get to you. He's been standing in the street sending pho
