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"Yes. Yes. I understand. We’ll find it.” He hung up.

I’d bet anything it was Viktor Sokolov, a Russian tech investor with FSB connections. I'd tracked his operations in Ukraine.

The lean one checked his Makarov pistol, then spoke up. “He was pissed?”

“If Dunlap releases what he has on Pope, if it leads back to Viktor…"

"Then we find him before he does." The lean one shrugged. "Search the bedrooms again. I’ll take the study."

They split up. Baldy headed towards me. Lean went toward Krause.

I pressed against the wall. The Russian stepped into the hallway. He outweighed me by forty pounds. I drove the Glock's grip into his temple. He staggered but didn't go down.

His elbow caught me in the ribs. Pain exploded through my chest. I grabbed his arm and slammed him into the wall. Drywall cracked behind his head.

A gunshot boomed from the other room.

The Russian's fist connected with my jaw. I tasted blood. Grappling, we went through the hallway door into the living room, then crashed into a side table. A lamp shattered.

I hooked his leg and we went down. My head cracked against hardwood. His hands found my throat and squeezed.

Black spots danced across my vision. I yanked the tactical knife from my boot and drove it into his side. He roared. His grip loosened. I twisted the blade. He rolled off me.

Another gunshot. Glass shattered. Krause's voice, tight with pain. "Code!"

I grabbed the Russian's Makarov and put one round in his shoulder. He finally stopped moving.

I hauled myself up and stumbled toward the dining room. My ribs screamed.

Krause was down behind an overturned table, blood soaking through his left sleeve. The lean Russian advanced on him, Makarov raised.

I fired twice. Center mass. The Russian fell.

Krause pushed himself up with his good arm. "Took you long enough."

"You're welcome." I checked his wound. Through and through, high on the shoulder. "You'll live."

"Course I will." He grimaced. "But Jesus, I'm getting too old for this shit."

"You and me both."

The bald Russian groaned from the hallway.

I moved to him and crouched down. "Viktor Sokolov sent you," I said in Russian.

He spat blood.

I dug my knuckles into the knife wound until he screamed. "Where's Russell Dunlap?"

"We don't know. He disappeared after he contacted Eddie Pope."

"Eddie Pope from NewVation?"

"Yes. Pope went to Viktor for help." The words came out choked. "Dunlap is blackmailing him for twenty million dollars. Has a video of Pope confessing to murdering a prostitute. Deepfake, but impossible to prove. Viktor wants the technology back before Dunlap can use it again or sell it."

The pieces clicked into place. Russell must have built the deepfake system after he left NewVation, otherwise Viktor would have it already. Now he’s used it to blackmail his former boss and Katherine. Eddie Pope panicked and went to his Russian backers.

"What was Viktor going to use the technology for?"