The warehouse is exactly as I left it: rust-eaten, rank with the smell of blood and disinfectant. Half-hospital, half-prison.
Only, there’s no chance of getting out of here.
I find Anatoly in Room A, as expected. He’s been roughed up. Half his face is swollen, almost unrecognizable. If he’d been able to escape like that, I’m not sure I could have found him.
His head snaps up. “Pakhan. What… are you doing here?”
“I’m here to get answers.”
I glance at the tools. Either they’re untouched, or they’ve been cleaned spotless, because there isn’t a speck of blood on them. I wonder if this is why Yuri couldn’t get this guy to talk—if he didn’t go hard enough on Anatoly for one reason and one reason only.
I land the first punch in his gut. “Who are you spying for?”
This thing with Vlad must’v
