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“A locked cabinet.”

“Do they get blankets?”

“No.”

Misha frowns. “They’ll be cold.”

“Guns don’t mind.”

He presses one hand to the wooden truck. “Maybe.”

My radio sounds again.

This time it is Leonid. “We identified two transfers from Rudenko’s private account to the plumbing contractor.”

“Amounts?”

“Small enough to pass as ordinary service fees.”

“Send the dates to Abramov. Compare them with every visit to the estate.”

Misha watches my thumb release the button.

“Why do you have many guards?” he asks.

I set the radio beside me. “Because some people want to hurt us.”

“Why?”

“Because they want things they can’t have.”

“Like my yellow car?”

“Sometimes.”

Misha picks up the yellow car and hides it behind his back. “They can’t have it.”

“No.”

“Not even the taxi?”

I consider the battered blue taxi beneath the shelf. “Never.”

He nods.

I turn back to the chessboard. The pieces sit in two fitted rows, dark wood on one side and pale wood on the other. Misha leans over them, his nose almost touching the board.

“Soldiers,” he says.

“Some are.”

He picks up the queen. “Who’s this?”

“Queen.”

“Why?”

“She goes everywhere.”