Page 45 of The Payback

It does not. But something that wasn’t there before enters his voice. Dimitri Aslanov is nervous, and instead of scaring me the way it probably should, I flick my eyes over to him and pin him to his chair with my gaze.

“We’re watching this, then I’m handing it over, and we can rebandage.”

He sits back, his knee still trying to bounce under the desk, but he’s holding onto his restraint with an iron grip.

The camera in his pocket puts our view at chest level as he enters the warehouse, and as he approaches two men, they turn, and I see Sergei and a man I don’t know. They nod at Dimitri, and Sergei seems surprised his nephew showed up.

“Dimitri,” Sergei says in greeting. “What brings you out today?”

I can just imagine the look on Dimitri’s face. It’s probably the same one he’s wearing now as he sits beside me, his chin resting on his fingertips. Haughty, arrogant, as if this isn’t worth his time.

“Who are you?” Dimitri asks the second man.

“Boris, sir,” he answers, a dip of his head showing respect.

“Any problems on the way over?”

“No,Pakhan. We lost five, but that’s fewer than usual.”

Lost five ofwhat?

“It is unacceptable,” Dimitri spits back, not bothering to smother the anger in his tone. It sends a shiver down my spine, and I grip my forearms tighter where they’re crossed in front of me, the pain rooting me to the spot.

“Dimitri, Dimitri,” Sergei says, raising his hands in supplication. “We built this into the pricing model. It is not uncommon.”

“Common does not mean acceptable,” my husband answers.

Nik steps up beside Dimitri. His body shifts further into view on the edge of the screen. Without thinking about it, I lean to the side as if that will help me see more of my former partner. But of course, the camera doesn’t move with me.

“Well?” Nik asks. “Let’s see the cargo.”

As the men approach the shipping containers, Nik flicks his cigarette onto the floor and stomps on it with a boot. Has he always been a smoker? He never smoked when we worked together, but he might have had the habit in his off hours. It’s not as if we saw each other outside of work except for a few after-hours beers and that one night.

They walk through the warehouse, stepping in questionable puddles, and I’m immensely glad I’m not living this out and smelling the disgusting odours that must permeate the warehouse. Boris leads the way until they reach two large shipping containers.

Boris produces a key from his pocket and slides it into the padlock on the first container. He shifts the bar and gives it a firm yank. There’s a scrape of metal, a grinding of pieces that don’t slide together easily—as if the universe is telling anyone who dares open it that we won’t like what we find inside. He keeps the door open, and Sergei stands with his hands crossed over his chest, a self-satisfied and smug grin on his face as the container’s contents become clear.

Desperate pleas and cries reach my ears through the computer’s speakers as the twenty women and girls housed within skitter away from the men at the entrance.

Bile churns in my stomach, and I slap my hands over my mouth as my eyes fill. They burn with unshed tears, but I am strong enough to witness their suffering if they are strong enough to endure this.

Dimitri speaks beside me, pausing the video and making me flinch. His voice is low and full of self-loathing. One girl’s face is frozen in horror as she spreads her arms wide to block the view of the girls behind her. “My father started this. And I didn’t know about it until just before the wedding.”

Turning towards him, I see his right hand fisted in his hair as the second drums out a beat on his leg.

“This wasn’t in the briefings,” I whisper. None of this was. If it had been, we’d have put a plan in place and pretended to be buyers until we could shut it down at the source. Pertinent questions swirl in my mind, the most prominent beingWhere are these girls now?

“By the time I found out, the plan for you was already in place. Everything would have been delayed if I’d sent word about this.”

He’s right, of course. An operation of this magnitude would have required more planning and coordination. I’m not equipped to deal with this on my own. I need resources and a team, and more fucking information. I will kill him if he lets these girls go to their fates.

“Play the fucking video, Dimitri,” I say in a low voice, daring him to show me how little he did to help them.

“Eleanor,” he breathes, touching my arm and using my real name as if that will soften whatever is coming. I turn away from him, focusing on the screen again.If they can live it, I can watch it,I repeat like a chant in my mind. I have to. Because not one of the men standing in front of the container is helping them, and this is the absolute least I can do in a situation beyond my control.

“Play. The. Fucking. Video,” I repeat.

He reaches out and clicks play and the girl in front’s face morphs before my eyes, going from angry to resigned, even as she shields the girls behind her.

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