We crouch in the shadow of a pine.
“Perimeter first,” I murmur. “No one touches the door until we see the back.”
Kirill sends two men to either side. They move around the house, disappearing behind it. After a minute, one clicks the radio twice. Clear. No movement outside. No car behind.
I step out of the trees and walk toward the front. My boots crunch on the hard ground. I count three tall pines and one crooked birch off to the side.
The well ring stands near the path. Three iron hooks rust on its rim. A thin rope hangs from one.
She was here. I feel it in my bones.
The windows are dark. Curtains hang inside. No light leaks around them.
I motion Vlad’s replacement second, Oleg, to the side. He checks the ground near the door with a small light. No fresh wires. No pads. No new screws on the hinges.
“Clear,” he whispers.
I stand to the side of the door and look at the carving. The fox’s eyes are small and sharp. The sun has lines around it.
I raise my hand and knock twice. Then three times. Two. Three.
We wait.
Nothing moves inside. No shuffle. No voice.
I look at Oleg. He nods. He grips the knob and turns it slowly.
It is unlocked.
He pulls the door open and steps back. Cold air flows out. No blast. No smoke.
“Go,” I say.
Two men move in first, weapons up. They sweep left and right.
“Clear,” one calls softly.
I step inside.
The cottage is small. Wooden walls. Low ceiling. A main room with a table, a stove, and a bed. There is a door to a bathroom in the back.
The bed is unmade. The blanket lies in a heap. A pillow lies on the floor. A hair tie rests near the leg of the bed. It is one of Raina’s colors.
On the table sits a plate with crumbs and a cup with a thin circle of dried tea on the bottom. The laptop is closed. A cable runs to the wall. The camera on top is missing.
I move to the bed and pick up the hair tie. I know the feel of it. She bought a whole pack of these last month. They sat in a bowl by our door.
“She slept here,” I say.
Kirill checks the stove. It is cold. He touches the side of the kettle.
“Not heated in some hours,” he says. “Hard to say how many. The room is cold.”
Oleg checks the bathroom. “Empty,” he says. “No one.”
I scan the walls. A small lens hole sits high in one corner. A camera stared down here at the bed and table. Now it is gone.
“Andrei,” I call on the radio. “Check for active feeds from this house. He liked to watch.”
