“Not that different. Not yet.” I move back to my desk. “This isn’t something you can fix for me.”
“Then what are you going to do?”
Before I can answer, my phone buzzes. Pavel.
I pick it up. “Talk.”
“Anna made another call this morning. Different contact. Someone with direct ties to one of Borin’s associates.” His voice is flat in the way it gets when the news is bad, and he wants me to hear it clearly. “The associate has connections inside the Malikov network. Not peripheral. Inside.”
The room gets very quiet.
“She’s not just asking questions anymore,” Pavel continues. “She’s getting close enough that the wrong person is going to notice. If they haven’t already.”
“How exposed is she?”
“Enough. The men watching the house aren’t going to be sufficient if the Malikovs decide she’s worth picking up. Viktor’s house has one lock on the front door and a back garden that opens onto a public alley. It’s not defensible.”
“Double the team. I want the alley covered, and I want someone inside the perimeter, not just on the street.”
“Already actioned. But, Luca.” A pause. “She needs to stop digging. If she makes contact with anyone closer to the Malikov network than this, she’s going to get herself killed. And possibly the family with her.”
Maxim is watching me from across the desk.
I pick up my personal phone and dial Anna’s number.
It rings four times. Five. Six. Voicemail.
I hang up and dial again. Voicemail.
I set the phone down on the desk and look at it for a moment.
Maxim stands. “Papa?—”
“I know.”
“She doesn’t understand what she’s touching.”
“I know that too.”
“Then do something.”
“I’m trying.” I pick up the phone again and call Pavel back. “I need you to get a message to Anna directly. Not through me. Go to the house yourself, tell her I need to speak with her, and tell her it’s not about the marriage.”
“And if she refuses?”
I look out at the wet garden. At Mila’s flower beds and the empty lawn where Alexei had been planning his train track. “Tell her it’s about her family’s safety. She’ll listen to that.”
I hang up.
Maxim stands at the door. “Do you want me to stay?”
“No. Go back to Moscow. Finish the distribution work.” I turn back to my desk. “I’ll handle this.”
He leaves without arguing, which tells me he understands the severity better than he’s letting on.
I sit alone in the study. Pull up the security feed from the cameras Pavel has positioned near Viktor’s street. Grainy footage. A quiet neighborhood road. Two of my men are visible as ordinary pedestrians if you don’t know what to look for. Anna’s parents’ car in the driveway. Curtains closed on the upper floor.
She’s in there pulling on threads that lead directly into the most dangerous network in this city, and she has no idea how close she already is to the point where pulling stops being a choice.
