The call ends, and I sit in the darkness, reviewing the plan. Bogdan is in the center of that warehouse like a spider waiting for flies. Except the flies have teeth this time, and the spider doesn’t know we’re coming.
My phone dings with a text from Boris. Coordinates and a meeting time. 6 a.m. at a café three blocks away. The old man apparently doesn’t sleep, either.
I type a quick confirmation and set the phone aside. Then I lean my head back against Daria’s door and close my eyes to think.
A few hours later, I ease away from her door and grab my jacket. Daria is still sleeping, so I leave a note on the kitchen counter telling her I’ll be back soon and that she shouldn’t leave the apartment for any reason. Then, I slip out and head for the café.
Boris is already seated when I arrive, with a cup of black coffee steaming in front of him and a tablet propped against the sugar dispenser. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, but his eyes are just as alert as always.
“You’re late,” he notes.
“By two minutes.”
“Two minutes can be the difference between a clean extraction and a body bag.” He gestures to the chair across from him. “Sit. We have work to do.”
I sit just as the waitress approaches, and I order coffee without looking at the menu. She disappears, and Boris turns the tablet toward me.
The screen shows a satellite image of an industrial area. One building is circled in red.
“Bogdan’s hideout,” Boris says. “Former fish processing facility. Three main entrances, two emergency exits, and a loading bay on the north side.” Boris swipes to a rough floor plan, hand-drawn but detailed enough to work with. “Bogdan has set up in the old manager’s office on the second level. It overlooks the entire floor, and it’s accessible by a single staircase.”
“Defensible position.”
“Very. He’s not stupid, just cornered.” Boris takes a sip of his coffee. “Cornered men become predictable. He’ll have his core team with him in that office. The rest will be scattered on the main floor, watching the entrances and waiting for trouble that they think will never come.”
I study the floor plan, mapping routes in my head. The single staircase is a problem. Funneling our people up a narrow passage gives Bogdan’s men time to pick us off one by one.
“Alexei wants a quick strike; in and out in less than ten minutes. No prolonged firefight, no time for Bogdan to slip out through an emergency exit.” He taps the loading bay on the north side. “This is our primary breach point. Wide doors, direct line to the main floor. We hit it hard, flood the space with bodies, and push toward the staircase before they can organize a defense.”
“And the other entrances?”
“Secondary teams. Two men on each door, timed to breach simultaneously. Anyone who runs gets caught in the crossfire.” Boris drains his coffee and signals for a refill. “It’s not elegant, but it doesn’t need to be. We have numbers, surprise, and motivation. Bogdan has a handful of hired guns who don’t get paid enough to die for him.”
“You’re assuming they’ll break.”
“They’ll do what hired guns always do when the bullets start flying.” The waitress returns with my coffee and refills Boris’ cup. We wait until she’s gone before continuing.
“These aren’t soldiers, Pyotr. They’re mercenaries. The moment things go sideways, half of them will look for the nearest exit, and we’ll put down the other half. Bogdan’s core team is the onlyreal threat. Four men who’ve been with him long enough to feel invested in his survival. They’ll fight. The rest will fold.”
I press my lips into a thin line and nod. The plan is solid. Multiple contingencies, clear objectives, and enough manpower to overwhelm Bogdan’s defenses. On paper, this should be straightforward.
But nothing involving Bogdan has been straightforward so far. The man has survived three years of hunting Daria and building an empire on her name while staying just out of reach. Underestimating him would be a mistake.
“Alexei lands at nine,” Boris tells me. “We’ll finalize the approach and wait for Dmitri’s signal.”
“And Daria?”
“Stays in the apartment, under guard.” Boris fixes me with a look that says he knows what he’s asking. “She doesn’t need to be anywhere near this operation.”
“She’s going to argue.”
“She doesn’t get a vote.” Boris stands and tucks the tablet under his arm. “That woman has been running for three years. The last thing she needs is to get herself killed right before we end this.”
I know he’s right, but as I watch him leave the café, I can’t shake the feeling that keeping Daria out of this fight is going to be harder than taking down Bogdan’s operation. She’s spent years being hunted and controlled, watching Bogdan manipulate every aspect of her life from the shadows.
Now that the end is finally in sight, asking her to sit on the sidelines might be the one thing she refuses to do.
Soon, this will all be over. Bogdan will be gone, and Daria will finally be free.
