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“Luke and Paddy have been running surveillance for days now,” I begin. “They’ve been in and out of the compound multiple times and cut several access routes in for us. Mickey?” I nod at Roman’s godson a tall, lean sixteen year old who seems to have shot up by a foot in the months since I last saw him, not to mention filled out in a way that suggests he’s been taking his training in the gym seriously. His dark blue eyes are sharply focused on the screen, his fingers skimming the keys as the screen lights up with photographs of the compound, taken from within the grounds as well as from the exterior.

Roman whistles admiringly. “Nice job, boys.”

“We aim to please” comes Paddy’s dry voice through the speaker.

“We’re going to need to work from the outside in and the inside out simultaneously,” I say. “We must take out the perimeter guards before anything goes down inside. But timing is going to be crucial. We may not know who, exactly, this man is until the auction is complete. He’s placed strict rules around the auction itself to preserve his anonymity. We’re relying entirely on Abby being able to identify him, and on Rodrigo to convey that message through his comms. That means a lot can go wrong.”

Alexei folds his arms, his one lone eye piercing me across the table. “Are we seriously planning to trust the Cardeñas cartel?” His raspy voice is harsh, and there’s no hint of a smile on his face.

Then again, Darya’s brother isn’t really the smiling type.Not surprising, given he spent his formative years being brutally and repeatedly tortured.

By people who were allied with the Cardeñas cartel.

Which makes his grim demeanor now entirely understandable.

“Our target didn’t just murder Juan Cardeñas, Rodrigo’s father,” I say, meeting Alexei’s grim eye directly. “He did it purely so he could use Rodrigo to open up new cocaine markets. Rodrigo doesn’t just want this man dead—he wants his entire operation decimated, just like we do. And neither of us can do that alone.” I tap the map showing the hotel where the auction will be held. “Rodrigo can get men inside the hotel. We can’t.”

Roman frowns. “What about him?” He nods at Leon without saying his name. “I thought he was the one running this show? Can’t he get men inside?”

“I can’t, unfortunately.” Leon shakes his head, seemingly not at all put out by Roman’s open hostility. “I’m the registered dealer for the piece, which is how I pulled the buyers for the auction together. But dealers and auctioneers are two separate roles. I don’t run auctions; I’m the intermediary between buyers and sellers. And in this case, given that I’m the actual owner of the piece, I’m already stepping on dangerous ground. I’m remaining anonymous, of course, which isn’t at all unusual in cases like this. But if I step into the role of auctioneer, it will raise alarms we can’t afford.”

“But you’ll still be in attendance?” Roman eyes him suspiciously.

“No,” I cut in. “He’ll stay on the yacht with Mak, running comms to our auctioneer.” I nod at Mickey. “Pull up the picture.”

Mickey hits a key, and a photo of an olive-skinned hawk-eyed young man in an impeccable suit appears on-screen.

“This is Dariush Azad,” I say, zooming in on the face. “He’san Iranian auctioneer who has begun to make a name for himself running auctions for black-market objects, primarily those acquired during conflicts in the Middle East. He is known more by name than face, and for the fact that he runs his auctions using digital controls and a screen rather than traditional paddles, with Mercura as the sole option for payment. This unique style enables his clients to remain completely anonymous, but still attend in person. If they choose, bidders can keep their faces hidden and be identified solely by the number associated with their digital control.”

“And you know this guy?” Roman asks, frowning at the screen.

“I’ve watched him in action a dozen times since I started working with the Naryshkin treasures. He’s notoriously security conscious, for obvious reasons, and often changes his appearance to avoid notice.”

“So where is he?” Roman looks around, as if expecting Dariush to magically materialize.

My mouth twitches. “He’s right there.” I nod at Pavel, who’s moving nervously from one foot to another.

Roman stares over Pavel’s head, clearly expecting someone else.

“No, Roman,” Mickey says with the kind of exasperation only a teenager can show a parental figure. “Dimitry meansPavel.We’re going to make him look like this Azad guy. Then we’ll wire him up, and Leon will coach him through the auction.”

Roman’s eyebrows nearly shoot through the roof. “You’re fucking what, now?”

“Right?” Pavel nods in emphatic agreement, pointing at Roman. “You see? He thinks you’re mad as well.”

“No,” Mickey says impatiently, “we’re not mad. Look.” He zooms in on the screen. “Pavel’s facial features hit all the same points as Dariush Azad—or they will, once we shave Pavel’sbeard off. They’re exactly the same height, and since I’ve been making Pavel train with me in the gym, around the same weight. All we need is to give Pavel a decent haircut, put him in a decent suit, then have Leon feed him the right words and—voila—we have Dariush Azad.”

Roman stares at me incredulously. “You’re planning to put a multimillion-dollar high-stakes life-and-death mission in the hands of my chieftech geek?”

“Why the fuck not?” I glare at him across the table. “You trust Pavel with your multibillion-dollar crypto platform. And for the record, Pavel isn’tyourtech geek. If you remember, it was me who actually recruited him, more than a decade ago, when he was just a refugee kid running a hacking workshop in London. Against your wishes, I might add. I’d say he’s proved himself more than a little useful since, wouldn’t you?”

Roman’s glare could poison trolls, but he wisely keeps his mouth shut.

I bite back a very evil urge to grin.I’m enjoying this far more than I probably should.

“So,” I go on, “that’s what’s happening.”

Pavel shakes his head. “I don’t get a say in this, do I,” he mutters.