He’s in a corner booth with two younger men and a woman who looks as if she’d rather be anywhere else. He keeps touching his own tie and smiling with too many teeth, which tells me he’s nervous even before he glances over his shoulder the third time.
But he’s a problem for later.
The floor manager spots me within a minute and goes pale.
Good.
I don’t smile when he comes over.
“Roman.”
“Let’s walk.”
He obeys.
I take him through the side corridor toward the staff office. No one stops us. No one wants to. By the time the door shuts behind us, he’s already nervous enough to start talking before I ask a question.
“I’m looking for a man, Savenchko,” I say.
The manager smiles. “Many men have crossed this threshold, it’s hard to keep track of everyone.”
“This one is special, and it’s pissed me off.” I block his path with my body and the man gulps. “My pier was attacked, and I need to find out why.”
“Savenchko hasn’t been here in weeks.”
“Not good enough.”
He stops.
I let him sweat for a second, then say, “Start again.”
He licks his lips. “He was here last Thursday. Used the back room for twenty minutes.”
“Name.”
“I don’t know.”
“You do.”
He winces. “I know a nickname.”
I wait.
“Grisha.”
I don’t recognize the name immediately. “What did they talk about?”
“I wasn’t in the room.”
“But you listened at the door.”
He hesitates. Wrong move.
I step closer, not threatening, just close enough that he can stop pretending we’re having a normal conversation.
“I heard the name Oleg,” he says quickly. “And Jersey. And something about moving a shipment before it was noticed by the wrong people.”
My heart thrums. This is it. After so many years of chasing after a shadow, I’ve finally found him.
