“What about family? Someone could be using leverage.”
“Yuri’s mother lives in St. Petersburg. Healthy. No problems. Pyotr is divorced, no children, no close relationships.” Boris closes the files. “I will have them followed anyway. See if anything surfaces.”
“Who else has access to scheduling information? Someone who might see movement plans without being directly involved?”
Boris frowns. “Operations staff. The accountant handles expense reports for security details. He would see locations and dates.” He waves a hand dismissively. “But Ivan has been with the family for fifteen years. Dmitri trusts him.”
“Fifteen years is a long time to build a cover.”
“It is also a long time to prove loyalty.” Boris shakes his head. “Ivan is not your man. Look elsewhere.”
I file the name away. Ivan the accountant. The ones they dismiss too fast are the ones who bleed you out.
“What about you?”
Boris looks at me with eyes that have seen too much violence to be surprised by the question. “You think I am the mole?”
“I think everyone’s a suspect until they’re not.”
“Good. You are learning.” He opens another file. “I coordinated security. I cleared the building. I also sent the men to watch the perimeter, but they reported nothing suspicious until the shooting started.”
“And neither of them saw two shooters enter the building across the street?”
“They say no. I will question them again. More thoroughly.”
I know what “more thoroughly” means in Boris’ world, but I don’t object. Someone tried to kill Sasha, and I want answers more than I want to preserve anyone’s comfort. If Boris doesn’t get results, I’ll conduct my own interviews. I have methods that make “more thoroughly” look like a polite conversation.
“That still leaves me and Sasha as suspects,” I point out. “And Sasha wouldn’t put a hit out on herself.”
“And Sasha would not betray her family by putting one out on you without talking to her brothers.”
“And me?”
Boris stares at me for a long moment. “You, I do not trust. But Dmitri says to give you access, so I give you access. If you are the mole, I will know eventually. And then I will kill you.”
“Fair enough.” I respect the honesty. In his position, I’d say the same thing. I’d also follow through without hesitation.
He slides a thumb drive across the desk. “Security footage from Sasha’s street. Every camera within three blocks. Find something useful.”
I pocket the drive and stand. “I’ll let you know what I find.”
“Tony.” Boris stops me at the door. “Sasha is like a daughter to me. I taught her to shoot. I taught her to see threats. I taught her to survive in this world.” His voice goes cold. “If you are using her, I will make your death very slow.”
“Understood.” I meet his eyes without flinching. He means every word, and under different circumstances, I’d admire that. Right now, it just reminds me that I’m surrounded by people who would kill me without a second thought if they knew the truth.
I leave his office and drive back to the safehouse, mentally working through possibilities. The list of suspects is short, but someone knew our plans. Someone with access to information that doesn’t show up in personnel files.
Back at the apartment, I plug in the thumb drive and review the footage. Hours of surveillance from multiple angles, all time-stamped and organized by camera location.
At 14:07, a black sedan parks half a block from Sasha’s building. The driver stays in the vehicle. At 14:19, the driver makes a phone call. At 14:23, two men in dark jackets arrive carrying duffel bags.
Professional execution. And someone told them when to be there.
I make notes on everyone who appears in frame. A woman with a stroller. An old man walking his dog. A delivery truck that parks for ninety seconds.
Nothing obviously suspicious, which makes everything suspicious.
My phone vibrates on the desk. Adrian.
