CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
NIKOLAI DRAGUNOV
Dmitri sat across from me on Friday evening and said: "This is a problem."
"Define the problem."
"You." He looked at me with the direct patience of a man who had known me since we were fourteen and had run out of diplomatic approaches. "Specifically, the fact that Alexei Morozov declared war on this organization three weeks ago and your primary strategic concern at any given moment is whether Irina had dinner."
"That's not—"
"You asked Roman twice today if she'd eaten." He folded his hands on the table. "I'm not judging. I'm doing risk assessment."
I looked at him.
"She's a vulnerability," he said. "You know this. We both know this. Enemies will use her. They already are. And the more she matters to you, the more she can be used." He paused. "I
