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The man in the picture was kneeling on the ground in what looked like an alley. It was hard to tell since the photo was black and white and on the grainier side.
Without being told to, I clicked the arrow on the right, bringing up the next photo. It was essentially the same picture, except for a large flash of light next to the man’s head.
Holding my breath, I clicked again. I only caught a glimpse of the man careening sideways before Sasha pushed the chair back and blocked my view of the screen.
“Don’t look at that,” he said, his voice tight.
“Who was that?” I asked quietly.
“A bad man.”
“Says the other bad man.” I winced after the words left my mouth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—”
He held up a hand, cutting me off. “Let me look at the rest.”
Nodding, I slipped out of the chair and traded places with him.
He clicked through a couple more folders at warp speed. From what I could tell, they were mostly photos: mangled bodies, charred cars, dismembered limbs. Just as my mind processed what it was seeing, he was on to the next, muttering to himself until he closed out of his own file and moved on. The next one, thankfully, looked like bank documents and scanned sheets of a hand-written finance ledger.
“What is all of this?” I asked amidst the quiet, Russian snarling right next to me.
“You’ve heard of KGB?”
“Yeah. Who hasn’t?”
Sasha tipped his chin toward the screen. “These are KGB and FSB files. SVR too. They have information on everyone in the Bratva, the vory.”
“That’s like the mob, right?“
He nodded. “This information is very dangerous. Men kill for this sort of thing. To keep itandto get it. If it goes into the wrong hands, everyone on here is a target.”
I leaned across him and yanked the jump drive out of the USB port. “Then we need to get rid of it.”
“No!” He was on his feet in a flash. His hand closed around mine, trapping the jump drive in my palm. “We need to find out who this belongs to.”
“And what? Give it back?”
“Putit back, yes. Before they know we have it.”
“No!You’reon this file.”
He checked his watch, apparently ignoring me. “We have time to go back to the bank. Let’s go.”
I shrugged his hand off my shoulder. “I’m not putting this back until we know who has all this dirt on you.”
“How do you propose finding out?”
“Joyce.” I snapped and pointed at him, grabbing the phone and dialing the main branch. It rang three times before Cindy answered.
“Hey, Cindy, it’s Roan. Is Joyce around?”
“Roanie Bologne!” Cindy cried. I cringed, immediately glad I hadn’t put her on speaker phone. “Umm, yeah. You just caught her. Hold on, sweetie.”
“Thanks.”
The phone rang again and Joyce picked up. “Hi honey, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I smiled brightly to help sell the lie. “Hey, um, I found this key in the parking lot by the coffee shop and I think it’s for one of our safety deposit boxes. Can you look up the number and see who it belongs to so I can give it back?”
