Page 34 of The Enforcer’s Pawn

No one asks me why.

“His circle has been trying to get into the Black Sea lanes for years,” I say. “Arms, fuel, cash, medical cargo, stolen equipment. They can’t hit our ports directly. Petrov keeps the paperwork clean, the cargo useful, and the wrong questions expensive.”

Maksim looks at the missing-shipment report, then the private security payment, then the charity invoice with Elena’s foundation name sitting cleanly at the top.

“Patrick gave Morozov a side door.”

Petrov’s mouth tightens. “A side door with Boston stationery.”

Abramov shifts his grip on the tablet. “Why the sister? There are people with better access, better training, and fewer personal complications.”

Leonid looks from me to Maksim. “She works in cybersecurity. That matters, but it doesn’t explain the Blacklist placement by itself.”

Petrov leans over the table. “If O’Connell needed collateral, he could’ve listed property, shares, a warehouse claim, maybe future payments.”

Maksim doesn’t look away from me. “He listed Cara.”

Nobody speaks.

I keep my hands flat on the table. “Patrick is frightened, greedy, and stupid under pressure.”

Maksim’s stare doesn’t move. “That isn’t an answer.”

“He may have thought her skills increased her value.”

“Dmitri.”

My name in his mouth cuts through the study.

Maksim closes the file in front of him. “Anyone could have picked her up from the airport. You could have waited here, questioned her here, and stayed out of sight until you needed her to see you.”

Petrov looks down at the maps. Leonid removes his glasses and begins cleaning them with care that fools no one. Abramov watches me without blinking.

Maksim continues. “You went yourself.”

“Patrick used her name to open the door,” I answer. “If she was bait, I needed to see who had tied the line to her. I collected her myself because I didn’t trust anyone else to know what they were looking at.”

My thumb passes once over the scar in my eyebrow. “She stays under my custody, and no one questions her without me present.”

“That is the problem.”

My mouth goes dry, though my face stays still.

Maksim rests his hand on the closed file. “Does she mean something to you?”

I think of Cara at the hangar earlier, calling my men emotional support gunmen while she held herself together by force. She has something in Boston worth protecting.

I say, “She’s Patrick’s sister.”

“That’s the report answer,” Maksim says. “I asked the personal one.”

“She was in Boston five years ago.”

Leonid’s head tilts. Petrov’s attention comes back. Maksim’s eyes narrow. “Who knows?”

“No one who can speak.”

“That isn’t the same as no one.”