CHAPTER SIXTEEN
1098 Words
NIKOLAI DRAGUNOV
"You can't end this because of some woman you brought into your house." Mila's voice was controlled, but only just. "We've spent months together, Nikolai. That means something."
"It meant what it was," I said. "Nothing more than that. You knew the arrangement."
"I thought—"
"You thought incorrectly." I kept my voice even. Not cruel — there was no point in cruelty here. "Whatever you expected this to become, I was never going to give you that. I can't give anyone that." A pause. "Don't come back. We're done. And for what it's worth — you spoke to my guest the way you shouldn't have. I don't tolerate that regardless of anything else."
"Nikolai, please—"
I ended the call.
I set the phone on my desk and looked out at the city for a moment. Mila's father was a senior police officer — useful, well-placed, cooperative for the right considerations. That relationship would need managing now. A minor inconvenience.
The other thing — the thing I didn't examine — was why it had taken approximately one conversation with Irina for the eight-month arrangement to feel like something I was done with. I didn't examine it because the answer was obvious and I wasn't ready to do anything useful with it yet.
Viktor. Tomorrow.
I'd already waited too long.
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I was at her door before eight the next morning, the audio file on my phone — Dmitri's work, extracted from a chip we'd had planted in Alexei Morozov's east-side office three weeks ago. I'd listened to it twice the night before. Both times it had produced the same cold, focused anger that I had learned, over many years, to treat as information rather than emotion.
I knocked.
A muffled sound. A yawn. A pause.
"Is it important?" Her voice, rough with sleep.
"Yes."
"Then come in. But if you try anything I will find something sharp."
"Noted."
I pushed the door open. She was sitting up in bed, hair loose and disordered from sleep, the sheets pulled around her with the specific dignity of someone who refused to be caught at a disadvantage even at eight in the morning. She looked at me with those sharp green eyes and waited.
I sat in the chair across from her and leaned back.
"Your father," I said. "He knows you're here."
The stillness that moved through her was different from her usual composure. That was controlled. This was something shutting down involuntarily — the particular freeze of someone who has just heard the name of their oldest fear.
"How." Not a question. Flat.
"He has a connection to Alexei Morozov. Has had one for some time, apparently. We don't yet know who made the introduction, but someone inside this compound has been feeding information out. Viktor found out through that channel."
"Alexei Morozov." She repeated the name slowly. "Your rival?"
"My most significant one, yes."
She was quiet for a moment, fingers pressed together in her lap. When she spoke again her voice was careful — not calm, but disciplined. "What does Viktor want? Money? Is he trying to sell information about me? Use me as leverage against you somehow?"
"That's what I'm determining. What I know is that Morozov is aware you're here, aware you're working with my operation, and he's had extended contact with your stepfather." I watched her face. "Viktor talked, Irina. At length. About you, about your skills, about your history. Morozov didn't go looking for Viktor — Viktor went looking for Morozov."
Something moved across her face. She controlled it quickly, but I saw it — the particular hurt of someone whose worst expectations of a person have been confirmed again.
"Of course he did," she said quietly. Almost to herself.
"I'm telling you because you need to know. Not to frighten you." I held her gaze. "You're safer here than anywhere else you could go right now. I want you to understand that, not take my word for it."
She looked at me for a long moment. The sleep-softness had left her face entirely. She was thinking — I could see the calculation moving behind her eyes, the rapid reassessment of variables.
"You have a traitor inside this compound," she said.
"Yes."
"Someone who told Viktor where I was, and Viktor took that to Morozov."
"Yes."
"Which means Morozov has had a source inside your operation for long enough to be useful to him." She paused. "That's not a new leak. That's someone established. Patient."
I looked at her. "I know."
"I can find them," she said. Not a boast. Just a statement of fact, delivered the way she delivered most things — directly, without performance.
"I know that too." I stood. "Get some rest first. We'll talk about it this afternoon."
She nodded, already somewhere inside her own thinking. Then: "Nikolai."
I stopped at the door.
"Thank you. For telling me." The words cost her something — I could hear it. "You didn't have to."
"Yes I did," I said. And left before she could respond.
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My phone buzzed as I reached the hallway. A message. I looked at the screen.
Alexei Morozov.
I opened it.
You must be enjoying your new acquisition. I hear she's quite capable — intelligence work, social engineering, the whole picture. Her father has been very forthcoming. I look forward to seeing what she can do firsthand. There's a charity ball next Friday. I expect you'll be attending. It would be a shame to miss each other. — A.M.
I read it twice. The anger that moved through me was cold and precise — the kind that didn't need to raise its voice because it had already decided what came next.
I dialed Henry.
He picked up on the first ring. "Boss."
"Double Irina's security detail. Rotating shifts, no gaps. I want eyes on every entrance to this building and I want the internal surveillance reviewed for the last thirty days." I started walking toward my office. "We have someone inside feeding information out. Find them before I do — because if I find them first, there won't be enough left for a proper burial."
"Understood, Boss."
"One more thing." I stopped at my office door. "The ball next Friday. We're attending."
A pause. "Yes, Boss."
I ended the call and stood for a moment looking at Morozov's message.
I look forward to seeing what she can do firsthand.
My jaw tightened.
He was going to find out exactly what she could do. Just not in any way he was anticipating.
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