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“Thank you so much.” Alice clutches her hands to her chest.

“Yes, well…” Annika avoids meeting the young girl’s eye. “The outhouse?” she says to Geraldine.

“Yes, they’re expecting you,” the older woman says.

Annika leaves without another word to Alice, so I turn to tell her to take care as I follow.

The outhouse is a single-story brick structure with no insulation and nothing inside but a concrete floor and four men. One of them is laying on the floor, blood pooling from his nostrils and his right eye nearly swollen closed.

“Sir,” one of the men steps forward to greet Annika.

Annika nods at him in response. “Benny. Is he conscious?”

“Barely.” The guy smirks before turning to his colleagues. “Pull him up.”

The other two haul the beaten man to his feet, holding him vertical by their shoulders under his arms. His head rolls forward and he groans. “Where’s the tattoo?” Annika asks.

One of the guys tugs at the collar of the man’s Henley and reveals the snake and blade design inked onto his right pectoral.

“Hm,” Annika sounds.

“Does it mean anything? The placing of the tattoo?” I ask.

She raises an eyebrow at me and gives me the side eye. “You don’t know,detective?”

“Kukris didn’t work in my jurisdiction,rainha,” I remind her.

She purses her lips. “Arms, hands, and neck tend to be for the lower ranks. Chest and back for higher ups.”

“So, this guy is a general for Volkov?”

“It would seem so.” She steps forward and slaps the guy across his swollen face.

He groans but lifts his head, looking at us through squinted eyes when a bloody smile spreads across his face. “Well, hello beautiful.”

“What’s your name?” Annika asks.

He doesn’t answer but looks her up and down. “Are you my replacement for that weak arse little bitch upstairs? You’ll do nicely.” He leers at her and my fists clench at my sides.

“What is your name?” she repeats.

“You can call me whatever you like, love.”

Annika sighs, tired of this game. “Wallet?” she asks Benny.

He pulls a black leather wallet from his pocket and holds it out for me. Taking it, I pull out the driver’s licence and read the name. “Paul Keats.” I flip over the card and inspect it, it’s good, but it’s not perfect. “This is fake.” I tell Annika. “Did he have a phone?”

The big guy pulls a phone from his pocket and hands it over to me. Of course, it’s locked, so I go to the Kukri hanging off the other two men and press his thumb to the device. He glares at me, so I give him a friendly smile.

“Hey, how you doin’?”

“Get fucked, arsehole.”

“Well, that’s not very nice.” I feign offence as I scroll through his open phone and find his email app. “All his emails are addressed to Calvin, and here’s one to Mr Gregson. So, you’re Calvin Gregson?” I look to him expectantly. Of course, he doesn’t answer, but the raging bull look he’s giving me complete withsteam coming out his ears tells me that I’ve hit the nail on the head.

“Calvin Gregson,” Annika echoes. “What exactly do you do for Grigoriy Volkov?”

“Suck my dick,” he spits at her.