Page 91 of The Enforcer’s Pawn

My son.

A shiver moves through me before I can stop it. I shake my head and keep walking.

We go to the north-wing study. Yuri has turned my temporary desk into a small command post. Monitors cover one wall. Secure phones sit on the working table. Route screens show maps of Moscow, Boston, and three freight corridors already under review. Hard chairs line the table, and Cara takes one with her back straight.

I crouch in front of her before she can object and check her ankle. No swelling, no heat. Nothing broken, as far as I can tell. Minor enough to heal with a little rest, which would be useful if the woman understood the concept of rest.

I stay on my feet. I can’t sit right now.

“Maksim,” I say into the secure line after Abramov patches the connection. “Direct exposure in Boston. A child is at risk. Patrick used a Morozov-linked medical shipment record to point at him.”

Maksim answers after a short pause. “Who is there?”

I look around the study. Abramov is at the monitors. Dima is by the door. Leonid enters with a folder and a tablet. Ilya is on the road channel. Cara sits with one hand pressed to her thigh, pale and angry.

“Cara. Abramov. Dima. Leonid. Ilya on channel,” I say into the line.

Maksim’s voice lowers. “Say what must move.”

“Boston contact line now,” I say. “Two vehicles to Kathryn Walsh’s building. Temporary safehouse outside her usual routes. Medic on standby. Air ready if we need to move them farther.”

Cara’s head snaps up.

“Set up a second pickup,” I continue. “If Patrick’s men are watching the building, we give them a car to follow. Kathryn and the child move only after the block clears.”

Cara pushes up from the chair before pain catches her. “Kathryn needs to know who is coming.”

I lift one hand to keep the study from splintering. “She will.”

Maksim catches the edge in both our voices. “No force unless they’re compromised. Weapons stay out of sight near civilians. Police only if extraction fails.”

Ilya’s voice cuts through the speaker. “I can move through private security cover out of Massachusetts. Two vehicles within forty minutes. One clean driver. Backup behind.”

“Twenty,” I say, turning toward the screen. “Forty is a funeral.”

Ilya exhales. “I’ll make calls.”

Leonid opens his tablet. “I can prepare a child welfare cover packet if anyone challenges movement.”

“No state language,” Cara says, stepping closer to the table. “Kathryn will panic if she hears welfare. She teaches preschool. She knows how badly official words can go.”

Leonid glances at me, then changes the entry. “Private family security, then.”

Cara nods once, breathing hard.

I turn fully to her. “Everything useful. Now.”

Her eyes flash. “Useful,” she says. “Of course.”

“Address,” I say, taking the hit because there’s no time to bleed from it.

Cara gives it.

“Building layout,” I say, angling my chin toward Abramov.

“Four floors,” she says, staring at the map. “Old brick. Front entrance on the street. Rear exit into a narrow alley. Fire stairs are on the left side of the building. Elevator works when it feels like being generous.”

Abramov types without looking up.