Gray sedan. Parked three buildings down from the bookshop. Two men inside.
I recognize them. Low-level Morozov muscle. The kind they use for collections and intimidation.
They're watching her.
Waiting.
For what?
I call Leo.
"The Morozov tail on Seraphina. What do we know?"
"They've been there for two days. Just watching. No approach yet."
"Why would they watch her?"
"Her brother owes them money. They probably think she knows where he is." A pause. "Or they're waiting for him to surface."
"Will he?"
"Unsure. He's been in the wind for a while though..." Leo trails off.
His sister is here, visible, and available. Perfect leverage.
"I want eyes on those men," I say. "Twenty-four seven. If they move on her, I want to know immediately."
"Adrian, if they're planning to take her?—"
"They won't." My voice is cold. "Not while I'm watching."
"What are you planning?"
I don't answer. Just hang up.
Three more days pass.
Three days of watching her. Of watching the men who are watching her.
She has no idea.
On the fourth day, a third car appears. Black BMW. Expensive.
A blonde man gets out, tall, mid-thirties, and completely unknown to me.
I have Leo run the plates.
"Apparently this guy is John Smyth," Leo says thirty minutes later.
"So, an alias."
"Appears so," Leo says.
"I don't recognize him," I say. "Do you?"
"No."
I watch the man enter the bookshop.
