Page 144 of The Enforcer’s Pawn

“I have an appointment update,” she tells the receptionist, and the tired edge in her voice is good. “There may be a problem with the appointment window.”

The receptionist looks at her screen. “Name?”

Cara waits half a beat. “No names. The person who changed it said you would know.”

The receptionist’s fingers move across the keyboard.

Yuri says, “Hotel system opened the fake file.”

Kirill comes in right after him. “New Harbor-adjacent wallet check. Same cluster as before.”

Yuri’s voice tightens. “That wasn’t only a verification. Someone used it like a signal.”

“To whom?” I ask.

Kirill answers after one hard click of his keyboard. “Whoever controls protected access inside the hotel.”

My hand closes around nothing.

Roman glances at me again. “This hunt wears a suit.”

“Yes,” I say.

Years ago, I would have put men through windows before lunch and called it progress. Morozov knows that. Patrick knows enough of it. Maksim was right. The men we need won’t walk in with blood on their cuffs. They use appointment windows, guard schedules, donor accounts, fake clinic leases, and renovation signs. If I storm the place now, Morozov gets exactly what he wants, Volkov violence tied to a woman and child.

Cara keeps her voice steady. “I was told there would be vanilla ice cream.”

The receptionist looks up. Every muscle in me pulls tight.

Yuri says, “The device that sent the meeting time just came online inside Vostok.”

The tech turns in his seat. “He’s here?”

“East service stairs,” Kirill says. “Low floor.”

Dima comes through from the second car. “Give me the word.”

I look at the lobby feed. Cara stands at the front desk with one hand on her phone and the other near her pocket. She knows we heard. She knows Patrick is close enough to watch.

The receptionist turns slightly, listening to someone through an earpiece we couldn’t see before. Vera sits at the side admin desk, eyes on her screen, close enough to hear the receptionist speak.

Near the service corridor, our guard in maintenance gray pushes a cart past the wall camera and slows by the lift.

Yuri speaks again. “Patrick’s device is moving toward the service lift.”

Kirill follows fast. “Oak and Tron just updated the service schedule.”

I keep my eyes on Cara. “What changed?”

“Service lift opened under private security access,” Kirill says.

No one speaks for a second. Cara’s breathing catches through the wire, then steadies.

My hand goes to the door handle.

“Hold,” Maksim says through the line from the estate annex. “Let them show their hand.”

The service corridor feed flickers on the tablet. On the lobby feed, Cara turns her head slightly, as if someone has called her from the side.