Page 142 of The Enforcer’s Pawn

She has been waiting for it.

I have watched her check the edge of her sleeve, look at the open car door, and then look back at Yuri’s tablet. The route is live. The wire is live. Patrick has everything he needs. Now he only has to give her the time.

Cara reads the message once, then again.

I stay where I am, even though I want to cross the stone and take the phone from her.

On the second read, she looks at me. “Thirty minutes. He asked me to come alone.”

She turns the phone so Yuri can capture the screen. Yuri mirrors the message at once. “Captured.”

Abramov steps closer. “This bothers me. He added Vostok Meridian, asked her to confirm a childhood phrase, and now gives her thirty minutes?”

Cara keeps the phone in her hand. “He’s asking for proof, not love.”

I want to choke Patrick’s voice out of the device. Even through a screen, he leaves filth behind. I keep my hand at my side, and Cara sees it.

“He checked the fake route,” she says, turning toward Maksim. “He double-checked it through New Harbor, then moved the meeting to the hotel. Now he wants to know if I’m really panicking.”

“Dirty swine,” Dima mutters under his breath.

Maksim keeps his attention on me.

“Let her go,” he says.

Cara has dressed for the cover. She wears a dark fitted dress under a long coat, low heels, small earrings, and makeup that says control. Her hair is pinned up, with loose pieces around her face. She looks strained, careful, and one breath away from cracking.

She catches me looking and gives me a bitter little smile. “Mata Hari costume.”

I understand the joke and hate it in the same breath. Patrick has survived by selling lies people wanted to buy. Tonight, Cara will sell him one he wants badly.

Mikhail’s blue car sits in her coat pocket. The wire rests under her collar. Her phone mirrors to Yuri. We agree on two phrases.

If she says, “I need more time,” she is uncomfortable, and we tighten the circle. If she says, “Tell Kathryn I’m sorry,” I move, and the conversation ends there.

Cara repeats both phrases with her eyes on mine.

I step closer and lower my voice. “Don’t give him an inch.”

Her fingers brush my coat pocket. “I’ll make him ask for one.”

Abramov’s people order a car through a neutral ride service, then intercept it before it reaches the estate. The real driver takes cash, signs nothing, and leaves in another car. Abramov puts on the cap, gloves, and blank face of a hired driver.

Cara gets into the back seat like she is alone.

Dima trails three blocks behind with two men in a car that looks like it has seen better winters. Ilya’s team is already staged near Vostok Meridian in a delivery van and a municipal service truck. Vera, one of Abramov’s people, enters the hotel first as a temp admin worker, and another guard poses as maintenance near the service corridor.

A third car leaves the estate with me in the back. Roman drives, and a tech from Yuri’s team sits in front with the encrypted line open to the annex. I sit alone and listen to Cara breathe through the wire.

We keep distance between the cars so Patrick’s watchers won’t tie mine to Cara’s. I can still reach the hotel fast.

Roman glances at me through the mirror. “This isn’t the kind of hunt you like.”

“No,” I say, watching Abramov’s car two blocks ahead.

The tech keeps one hand over his earpiece. “Yuri has the phone mirror. Kirill has the hotel appointment system.”

Yuri comes through the line. “Patrick’s side has gone quiet.”