Page 28 of Dark King Daddy

“No. The first thing every captain, dispatcher, customs intermediary, and union official will see is that Orlov cargo no longer moves through Sokolov distribution. By morning, the Voronins will have confirmation that the alliance is fractured.”

“We would limit our exposure.”

“And advertise weakness.”

Anton’s jaw tightened.

Lev lifted his glass. “Mikhail is right.”

“Of course you think so,” Anton said.

The air changed.

Arkady put his fork down. Not loudly. He did not need to.

Ksenia reached for her water. Her hand was steady.

“I think we don’t suspend anything,” she said.

Everyone looked at her.

She set the glass down. “Normal freight continues on normal routes. Same volume. Same dispatchers. Same warehouses. No visible change.”

Anton frowned. “That leaves the leaks in place.”

“Yes.”

One word. Calm.

She looked at Nikita. “How many schedules can Yuri plausibly access without raising suspicion?”

“Seven regular routes. More if someone is careless.”

“And how many of those carry Orlov cargo?”

“Four.”

Ksenia nodded once. “Create two additional routes. Decoys. Jointly controlled. One appears to carry high-value Orlov imports through a Sokolov distribution yard. The other appears to carry something useful but less obvious. Enough value to justify action, not enough to look like bait.”

Mikhail watched her closely.

She continued. “Only a small group knows both routes are false. Everyone else receives one piece. Different departure times. Different truck numbers. Different warehouse assignments. If either route is targeted, we learn which version leaked and narrow the source.”

Nikita leaned back. His interest sharpened. “A compartmentalized lie.”

“Two of them,” she said. “The Voronins expect us to react by separating. We react by integrating more closely where they can see it and controlling the information where they can’t.”

I had known she was intelligent.

I had not known she thought like this.

Or perhaps I had never given her the opportunity to show me.

“What do you manage?” I asked. “What’s your job?”

Her gaze moved to me. “Buildings.”

“Restoration projects?”