“North team is in place,” one of the voices reports through the radio.
Mikel presses the transmit button. “Maintain observation.”
“Understood.”
He releases the radio and glances toward me over the seat. “Southern team reports no movement at the gate yet.”
“They will arrive soon,” I reply.
Ivan scheduled the shipment for midnight. Men like him prefer operations that occur while most of the city sleeps.
I turn the tablet and enlarge the thermal feed showing the depot yard. The long corridor between the warehouses appears empty, the concrete still holding the faint heat of the afternoon sun beneath the cold night air.
Polina’s voice arrives through the small earpiece resting against my ear. “Traffic camera on the freight corridor just picked up three trucks leaving the highway.”
My attention sharpens immediately. “Distance?”
“Six minutes,” she replies.
I glance toward Mikel. “They’re coming.”
He nods once and reaches for the radio. “All units hold position.”
The instruction moves through the communications channel while the trucks continue advancing along the freight route.
Through the windshield, the depot remains quiet. The rusted security gate stands half open at the far end of the property, exactly as Polina predicted earlier when she examined the satellite images. Ivan’s men have already prepared the site.
The tablet vibrates lightly as the thermal feed refreshes. Three vehicles now move along the outer road leading toward the south entrance. The convoy arrives precisely on schedule.
Headlights appear in the distance seconds later, sweeping across cracked pavement dusted with snow as the trucks turn toward the depot entrance. The lead vehicle slows briefly while thedriver studies the gate before guiding the convoy through the opening.
Mikel watches the approach through a pair of compact binoculars. “That’s them.”
The trucks move deeper into the yard, their engines echoing faintly across the empty buildings while they follow the corridor between the warehouses. The convoy passes exactly through the narrow choke point we identified earlier in the surveillance room.
Ivan’s men move quickly around the vehicles, checking the perimeter before signaling toward the loading dock farther ahead.
Then another car enters the yard behind the trucks—a black sedan.
Mikel lowers the binoculars slightly. “That will be him.”
“Confirm it’s him,” I reply.
The sedan rolls slowly across the yard before stopping near the loading dock. The driver steps out first, scanning the area cautiously while another man circles the rear passenger door.
The door opens, and Ivan Malenko emerges into the cold night air. Even from this distance, the confidence in his posture remains obvious. He adjusts his coat with one hand while studying the trucks parked along the dock, his head turning as he gives instructions to the men around him.
Ambition has always been visible in the way he carries himself. Unfortunately for him, ambition often blinds men to the dangers forming around them.
Mikel raises the binoculars again and watches Ivan for several seconds before lowering them. “Confirmed.”
I nod once while examining the rest of the yard. “Wait.”
Ivan walks slowly toward the loading dock while his men begin positioning the trucks for unloading. Several guards move along the perimeter of the building, their attention focused outward rather than toward the corridor where the convoy entered. They believe the depot's isolation protects them.
Polina’s voice returns through the earpiece. “Thermal confirms twelve personnel in the yard.”
“Twelve plus Ivan?” I question.
