Page 143 of The Enforcer’s Pawn

Good. He thinks he has control.

Kirill speaks next. “Oak and Tron just shifted two men to the service entrance. Filed as routine coverage.”

Roman turns onto the main road. “Routine my ass,” he says, keeping his eyes on the road.

Yuri adds, “Vera is inside. Admin desk has the appointment pulled up.”

I look at Cara’s car ahead of us. Her breathing stays even, and it almost breaks my control.

Vostok Meridian looks normal from half a block away.

Roman parks with the nose of the car angled toward the entrance, far back enough to look like a driver waiting for someone. Through the front windows, I can see wrapped lobby furniture, plastic runners over pale marble, and paint tins stacked near one wall.

Ilya reports from the delivery truck after checking the feed from Vera. “Receptionist behind the front desk. Badge, neat hair, and a clever face.”

He listens for half a second, then speaks into the earpiece again. “Half the cameras are easy to see.”

“The useful ones won’t be,” I mutter.

Dima joins the line. “Leonid checked the old paperwork. Part of the building is being prepared for a private clinic lease.”

I look at the bright entrance, the clean glass, and the careful mess of renovation work. Anyone who wants a legal explanation will find one in five seconds.

Abramov’s voice comes through. “Oak and Tron handle the outer layer. Thermal jackets, radios, bored faces.”

“Where?”

“Side entrance, loading bay, and lobby doors.”

“Watchers,” I say.

“Bird dogs,” Abramov scoffs.

Yuri speaks again. “Cara is at the front.”

On the wire, Abramov says, “You’re clear to step out, Miss O’Connell.”

Her hired car stops. I lean forward. Cara opens the door before Abramov can do it for her. Good. Patrick would expect that from her. She hates being managed.

She looks at the fare on the driver’s screen, pulls cash from her bag, and passes it through the gap without speaking. Abramov takes it like any tired driver would, gives her a bored nod, and pulls away before she reaches the curb. Cara walks toward the entrance with her phone in one hand and her coat closed around her.

Roman whistles. I ignore it this time. He’s young, and he’ll learn.

The tech raises a tablet so I can see the lobby feed from the admin worker’s button camera. Vera is already inside, seated behind a side desk with a temp badge, a stack of forms, and her face turned toward a screen she’s not really reading.

Cara enters beneath the renovation sign. She keeps her face straight ahead and acts normal, failing only enough for Patrick to believe it if he’s watching.

“Receptionist has eyes on her,” Yuri says.

Kirill comes in. “Appointment window changed again. Five minutes shorter.”

Yuri adds, “Patrick wants pressure.”

Roman taps the wheel. “He’s moving her fast.”

“No,” I say as Cara stops at the front desk. “He’s seeing whether she obeys.”

Through the wire, Cara’s voice reaches me clearly.