I don’t realize I’ve spoken until the man in the front seat, Radimir, grunts. “Back at the house. Too noisy.”
“Stop the car. I need to get out.” A knell of dread rolls through me. “I can’t?—”
“We’re nearly there. Someone inside will explain, take you to Melor and Ilya and then to the killer, if you wish.”
My phone. I go to grab my bag, but it’s gone. “I need my phone.”
“It’s safe. You don’t need it,” he says to me in Russian.
We’re in a district I don’t know, full of buildings that look empty, utilitarian, like warehouses.
Unease spreads through me.
He pulls up outside one of the squat buildings. I look around, but I don’t see any cars.
“They’re in here.”
This isn’t right. It isn’t. My brain comes back online.
If Ilya had news, he’d come to me. And?—
Shit. I need to think.
“No… I think I should go home. Ilya will work on this for me. And right now, he’s busy with…”
With the Simonov issue. With the Santo issue.
Oh. God.
What if I was wrong?
What if this is Santo’s doing? He knows who works for Ilya and?—
I force myself to calm.
Radimir got into the estate, so Ilya knows where I am. Right?Right? And if he doesn’t, then?—
Calm down, calm down, calm down.
But I can’t turn off the panic switch, the one that’s attached to dread and fear and the growing feeling that I’ve made a huge mistake.
And Albert… Is he?—
I can’t go there. Albert’s fine, I heard him barking, and this man works for Ilya.
He has to.
Radimir gets out of the car and opens my door. I fumble and he swears, hauling me out and dragging me with him.
Alarms start to ring.
“We cannot be out here too long,” he says. “It is safe enough inside, where your husband waits with news.”
“But—”
He doesn’t stop, just picks up his pace and shoves open a heavy-looking steel door.
We’re in an office, abandoned, dusty, and with an air of long-time disuse.
