IRINA VOLKOV
I showed Nikolai the phone without speaking.
He looked at the screen. His expression didn't change. But the quality of the air in the room did — something dropping several degrees in the space of a breath.
He took the phone from my hand, stood, and called Dmitri.
"Katya," he said when the call connected. "Where are our people."
A pause. Nikolai's jaw set.
"Get there now," he said. "Don't call ahead. Move."
He ended the call and looked at me. I was standing very still because standing very still was what I did when I was frightened and didn't want to be.
"She's fine," he said. "Our people are two minutes away."
"How did he get my number."
"The second leak. We haven't found it yet." He crossed the room to me. "Irina. She's fine."
"He's using her because of me." My voi
