Page 140 of The Enforcer’s Pawn

Kathryn leans beside Yuri’s chair, her face tight. “Use something small. Something Patrick would remember, but no one can use.”

I close my eyes for one second. “Vanilla ice cream. No names.”

Yuri looks at me.

“Vanilla ice cream was Patrick’s old warning phrase,” I say. “It sounded harmless, but it meant stop talking, move fast, and don’t ask why.”

Dmitri’s hand closes around the back of a chair.

“Send it,” I say.

Yuri sends the phrase. For ten seconds, nothing happens. Then the relay flashes again.

Vostok Meridian.

Dima curses under his breath.

Abramov lifts his phone. “Teams?”

Maksim raises one hand. “Wait.”

Yuri’s screen flashes again. This time, a New Harbor-linked account wakes beside the relay trail.

Kirill points at the wallet map. “He touched the money channel.”

Maksim’s eyes narrow. “The mistake.”

Dmitri looks from the hotel name to the account line. “He used New Harbor to make the meeting look real.”

Patrick took the hook because he wants Morozov to see that he can still move me.

“He’ll want more,” I say, closing my eyes for one second as Patrick’s smile comes back to me, close enough to make my skin crawl.

Dmitri steps beside me and takes my hand in front of everyone. His face is still hard with everything he hates about letting me go, but his grip is firm, and when he speaks, I know the fight is no longer with me.

“Then we give him less than he asks for,” he says, “and make him beg for the rest until he has nowhere left to hide.”

Preparation starts after breakfast. But we don’t have the timing window yet.

Abramov sets the field layer. Three vehicles, no obvious convoy, two walking teams, one woman near the admin desk, and one guard inside the building dressed as maintenance.

Dima chooses the men and rejects two because they walk like soldiers.

Dmitri checks every name, every car, and every door on Abramov’s map. He argues over the admin entrance, the service entrance, and the guard dressed as maintenance.

“What about timing?” Dima asks.

Yuri stands with his hands in his pockets, eyes on the screen. “He hasn’t given it yet.”

“He will,” I say, looking at my phone. “He’ll wait until the last second because he thinks that gives him control.”

I go to the north wing to see Mikhail.

He’s on the rug with Kathryn, Anna, and Sergei, who has somehow been trapped in a game of Candy Land.

Mikhail looks up when I walk in. “Mama, Sergei is bad at candy.”

Sergei stares at the board. “Candy has poor rules.”