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I was already half-standing, one hand braced against the table, close enough to reach Mikhail before either guard could clear the door. His expression warmed with satisfaction.

He wanted me across the table. Wanted blood in a federal room. Wanted a story about Sergei Morozov losing control when a woman’s death was placed in front of him. But I knew that Alessia was watching.

She didn’t need to see that.

With a hard swallow, I sat back down, and Mikhail’s satisfaction faded by a degree.

“You do not get to use her,” I said.

“Which one do you mean?”

The question was meant to cut me, and it did, but I gave him nothing.

Ivan closed the file. “Where do we find Sokolov?”

Mikhail was silent for a moment. Then he sighed, perhaps accepting that the entertainment had ended.

“Janus Freeport Services.”

Ivan’s eyes narrowed. “A storage company?”

“It’s a string of warehouses for very rich people who prefer customs officers not ask why a painting crossed three borders or whether it is worth two thousand dollars or twenty million. Janus stores art, clears private shipments, and arranges secure rooms at elite events. Sokolov learned long ago that paintings move value more elegantly than cash,” he answered.

“Where are they based?”

“Everywhere useful. Geneva. Palermo. New York.” Mikhail looked toward Ivan. “Boston, when your brother hosts the right people.”

“You want us to find him,” I said.

“I want Viktor reminded that he is spending another man’s money.”

He wanted revenge. I could use that.

The agents ended the interview ten minutes later.

Alessia waited in the observation room with both arms folded across her chest. The moment the door closed behind Ivan, she looked directly at me.

“What did he say?”

I told her everything.

Ivan remained focused on the tablet in his hands, and when I was done, he cleared his throat. “Kit finished tracing Dmitry’s fight purse. It was guaranteed through a Janus side trust carrying the same Veles fingerprint.”

“So, the fight was financed through Sokolov’s machinery,” I said.

“By Sokolov or someone using the same access,” Ivan corrected. He turned the tablet toward us. “And Janus is already in Boston.”

Janus Freeport Services was listed as the international storage and customs partner for the fundraiser Amy and Aleksei were hosting at the gallery in three nights. The company had reserved a private viewing suite for several overseas guests.

One approved name sat near the bottom of the list.

Danilo Vuković.

It was one of Dmitry’s aliases.

Ivan called Maxim, and Aleksei joined the call seconds later.

“If we cancel,” Aleksei said, “he knows we found everything.”