“Correct.”
She studies the map again. “If he survives tonight, he may disappear.”
“Yes. Which means the opportunity can’t be wasted,” I tell her.
I set the tablet down and rest both hands against the edge of the table while considering the broader structure behind Ivan’s network. Someone built the financial foundation supportinghim. Someone patient enough to remain invisible. Someone who understands the systems my father once used.
The thought returns. A former lieutenant. An old strategist. A man who once watched the Sovarin organization rise and believes it should have belonged to him. The name remains just out of reach. For now.
Mikel returns from the communications console a few minutes later. “Surveillance teams will deploy within the hour,” he reports.
“Good.”
“Two vehicles positioned along the service road,” he continues. “Another team monitoring the northern rail access.”
I nod once. “Maintain distance until the convoy arrives.”
“Understood.”
Polina brings a secondary map onto the display. “Highway traffic remains light tonight,” she explains. “If the convoy approaches from the freight corridor, we’ll have visual confirmation nearly ten minutes before arrival.”
“That will be sufficient,” I tell her.
The room grows quieter again while preparations continue across the monitors. Vehicles begin appearing on the tracking screen as Mikel’s teams move into position around the outskirts of Charlotte. Observation posts along the freight route. Spotters along the service road. Each piece of the operation slides carefully into place.
After studying the deployment map for several seconds, Mikel glances toward me. “You intend to be present,” he observes.
“Yes,” I reply.
He exhales slowly. “Thought so.”
Men like Ivan require direct attention. Allowing subordinates to handle the confrontation risks losing the opportunity to uncover the structure behind him.
I walk toward the reinforced equipment cabinet near the back wall and open it. Inside rests the gear prepared for operations like this—radio transmitters, protective equipment, and several secured weapons. I remove a sidearm and check the chamber before securing it at my waist.
Mikel watches without comment as Polina continues to monitor the data feeds across the screens.
After several moments, she glances toward me again. “If Ivan arrives as expected,” she asks, “how long will you allow the operation to continue before intervening?”
“Long enough to confirm his presence.”
“And the trucks?” she asks.
“They remain.”
“Even if the cargo begins unloading?”
“Yes.”
She studies me before nodding once and returning her attention to the terminal. All attention converges on a single location.
Ivan Malenko believes tomorrow night will expand his power. Instead, it will end it.
Night settles over the industrial outskirts of Charlotte by the time we arrive at the outer perimeter of the depot. The city lights glow faintly along the horizon several miles away, but here the world feels stripped down to asphalt, steel, and long stretches of shadow broken only by the pale floodlights mounted along the freight corridor.
Our vehicles remain dark as they idle along the service road that runs parallel to the abandoned property. I sit in the back seat of the lead SUV, the tablet resting against my knee, as the live surveillance feeds scroll quietly across the screen. The cameras positioned along the freight route show little activity beyond the occasional tractor-trailer passing through the highway interchange several miles away. The depot itself remains still for now. Exactly as expected.
Mikel sits in the passenger seat beside the driver, his attention moving between the windshield and the radio unit mounted near the console. The soft murmur of communications moves through the vehicle as the other teams check their positions around the perimeter.
