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Belov’s mouth tightens. “She threatened an operation that protected all of us.”

“It protected you,” Kozlov says.

No one moves. Vera draws one careful breath after another against Belov’s arm.

Belov adjusts his grip on the pistol. “Hospitals, routes, and false names have kept men alive for decades. Maksim uses the same tools when they suit him.”

“Maksim didn’t murder Marina,” Vera says. “He didn’t burn my home or shoot at an ambulance he believed held a child.”

Rudenko points his pistol toward me. “The child was never inside.”

“You learned that afterward,” Tarasov says.

Rudenko turns on him. “Be careful.”

The captains’ screens change again.

It comes from the devices Ilya and Roman recovered earlier at the bridge. One message orders the black SUV to hold the Volkov vehicles near the railway crossing. Another tells the hospital ambulance to take the doctor alive.

Both orders carry Vlasov’s authorization.

A separate payment record appears beneath the messages. It shows money moving from Rudenko’s customs broker to Grigori Anisimov before I was shot. His recorded statement opens beside it.

“Dmitri found Grigori at the Tver property,” I say. “He admitted Rudenko paid him to change my route sheet, vehicle order, and guard rotation before the attack that sent me half-dead to Sklifosovsky.”

Rudenko’s hand closes around his phone.

Another record appears. It shows old New Harbor credentials released to the hospital team and payments sent to the men waiting outside the operating floor.

Kozlov reads the name beneath the approval twice. “Semyon Vlasov.”

“Belov’s aide,” Zaitsev says.

Belov looks around the office. “Vlasov handled operations for several captains.”

“Under your authority,” I say.

Tarasov opens the last page. “There’s also an order concerning Lebedev.”

Yuri recovered the deleted message from the burner the gray sedan’s driver dropped at the railway bridge.

USE ORLOV’S CODE. SEND LEBEDEV TO THE SOUTH SERVICE ROAD. ALONE.

Beneath it sits the false message Lebedev received.

“My secure phone and pistol were stolen at Sklifosovsky,” I say. “This order told them to use the code from that phone. They sent Lebedev to the road, killed him, and left my pistol beside his body.”

Zaitsev looks at Belov. “And this came from Vlasov’s message thread?”

“The same one used to order Vera’s abduction,” I say.

Zaitsev turns toward Belov. “You murdered a Volkov captain and planted Orlov’s pistol beside him.”

“Lebedev was preparing to challenge all of you,” Belov says, keeping Vera between us. “I removed a threat.”

Kozlov puts away his phone. “You don’t decide that alone.”

“Maksim has filled your heads with papers while everything he built falls apart.” Belov’s jaw tightens. “Look at Orlov. He’s standing here bleeding because a woman led him into a trap, and you still call him a strategist.”