Page 122 of The Dangerous Dance

"All right," I say.

She goes back to the map.

Outside, Declan finishes with the men.

The compound is quiet in the specific way of a place that has received bad news, processed the shape of it, and is deciding what to do next.

We are deciding what to do next.

That's what there is to do.

CHAPTER 32

Liam

Marco calls at nine in the morning.

I've been expecting it since seven, when Conor confirmed that the Rosso network had flagged the simultaneous attacks through their own intelligence channels, which is faster than I'd like but consistent with what I know of how Marco operates — he has eyes I've never fully mapped and he uses them with the efficiency of someone who understands that information has a shelf life.

I answer on the second ring.

"Liam." The first-name register. Not warm, not cold. The register of a man who is about to have a serious conversation and is indicating that he considers the seriousness mutual.

"Marco." I match it. "You've heard."

"Three simultaneous attacks on Irish supply routes between three and four this morning. Three confirmed fatalities. I'm sorry for your losses."

"Thank you."

A pause. The kind Marco uses when he's decided what he's going to say and is determining the precise order of it. "I'm going to tell you what I know and then I'm going to tell you what Vito wants and then I'd like to hear your response." He pauses. "The attacks this morning are consistent with operational methodology we've been tracking in relation to the Russian network. Specifically the network you briefed us on in our last meeting. The network your — contact — has been providing intelligence on."

"Yes," I say.

"Our analysts have been looking at the pattern of Russian activity in this city for the last three months. The supply route targeting, the pharmaceutical interception you brought us, the distribution of the photographs." He pauses. "They've arrived at a conclusion that I expect you've arrived at independently."

"That it's organized under a single operational command," I say. "And that the command has a scope we haven't fully mapped yet."

"Yes," Marco says. "And that the Irish operation and our operation are both targets within that scope, which makes the scope our shared problem."

"I agree with that assessment."

"Good." Another pause. "Then I need to tell you what Vito wants."

I look at the wall of the briefing room. At the incident map that Nadia has been working since five this morning with the focused intensity of someone who needs the work the way other people need sleep. "Tell me."

"Vito wants the Russian woman turned over to us," Marco says. "Nadia Volkov. He wants her brought in for a full debrief by our people, her intelligence assessed independently, and her position determined by us rather than by you." He says it without inflection, the delivery of an ultimatum that has been stated as a request but is carrying the weight of something more structural. "He understands the personal dimension. He's asking you to separate the personal dimension from the operational question."

The room is very quiet.

I look at the incident map.

I look at Nadia, who has gone completely still at the far end of the table with her back to me, her hands flat on the surface, and who has heard every word of this conversation because I didn't take it elsewhere.

"No," I say.

A silence. "Liam⁠—"

"No," I say again. "Nadia Volkov is under my protection. She is not an asset to be transferred for debrief. She is not a question to be determined by another organization. She is under my personal protection and the protection of this family, and that is not a negotiation."