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Abramov marks Roman’s route on the estate map. “Roman will take his team from the city side. He and one man will secure Lebedev’s cars, phones, and both bodies. The other six will continue to the east road and close it before the vans leave Lyubertsy.”

Dima’s phone blips. He reads the message and gives Abramov a brief nod. A minute later, one of his men enters carrying a sealed evidence box. Inside are a small printer and four disposable phones, each packed separately.

“The printer was in the garage locker used by the guard Ilya caught making the call,” Dima says. “The phones were behind a loose panel in Anton’s locker.”

Yuri connects the printer to a laptop that isn’t linked to the estate system. Its memory still holds the courtyard picture. It was printed at 5:24 p.m., seventeen minutes before the north-gate camera went dark.

Kirill opens the saved print job. It holds the same courtyard picture found at the gate.

“This printer printed the picture,” he says. “The lab will check if the one at the gate came from it.”

“The printer ties that guard to the photograph,” I say. “Check the phones before we decide whether he printed it himself.”

Dmitri grips Dima’s shoulder and steers him back toward the door.

“We’re going to Lyubertsy.”

Dima checks his pistol. “How many men?”

“You and Dmitri,” I say. “Roman’s six men will meet you on the east road. Roman and one guard will stay with Lebedev’s cars and the bodies.”

They leave together.

The communications room is too small for the number of calls now coming through. Khimki, Lyubertsy, the archive, the estate guards, and the city drivers are all using separate secure lines. Yuri has five feeds open on one screen, Kirill is switching between two headsets, and Abramov’s men keep entering with new reports.

“Move everything into the main control center,” I say.

The adjoining control center has a full wall of screens, a large city map, multiple secure phones, and separate stations for the estate and Moscow routes. Yuri and Kirill carry their laptops through first. Petrov follows with his files. Leonid goes to the records desk and opens the sealed list of archive files.

The Blacklist archive is hidden inside an old laundry building in Moscow. It looks empty from the road, but the lower floor holds the old claims, payment records, and transfer papers Maksim placed under guard after Cara’s case showed how badly the system had been used. Abramov sends another team to the archive.

Maksim enters from the opposite passage as the final screens come online.

He removes his coat and stands at the center table. “Who is going where?”

“Ilya is taking Khimki,” I say. “Roman is leading the city backup team to Lyubertsy. Dmitri and Dima are going there from the estate. Roman will secure Lebedev’s cars and both bodies.”

Maksim looks toward Abramov.

“I remain here,” Abramov says. “The estate is still being searched, and four men inside have already been taken into custody.”

“Good,” Maksim says. “Keep the family corridors closed.”

The Khimki feed fills the left side of the wall.

The worst of the fire is out, but smoke still comes from the loading doors. The warehouse emergency team sprays water on the walls while other men close the fuel lines and move the trucks away. Near the gate, two guards carry a dead man away. Another supports a wounded man whose leg is bleeding.

The night foreman appears on a handheld camera. His face is covered with soot, and blood runs from a cut near his hairline.

“The pump controls were damaged before the fire started,” he says. “The wall hoses still work, but the overhead sprinklers are dead.”

Gunfire sounds behind him.

He ducks lower beside a concrete barrier.

“Shooters are on the western road,” he continues. “They fire whenever our men go near the loading doors.”

“Where are the fire engines?” I ask.