Chapter 2092 - 854: So Many Complications_5

He turned around.

"Did we win? No. We just took a step according to his script."

Moses said nothing.

Shamir walked back to the desk and picked up the latest intelligence report on Grisha.

"Now he's in Mexico. He wants to move too."

He put down the report.

"Tell Victor, the Principal doesn't want victory. He wants chaos."

7 PM, Mexico City, Northern Prison.

Grisha sat in the interrogation room, facing the same empty chair.

The door opened.

Bennett came in.

He walked up to Grisha and sat down.

"Mr. Grisha, your daughter is in Saint Petersburg."

Grisha's hand trembled.

"Fourteen years old. Named Anna. Lives with her mother."

Grisha looked at him.

"How... how do you know?"

Bennett didn't answer.

He took a photo out of his pocket and placed it on the table.

The photo was of a little girl — thin, pale, big eyes, and, like Grisha, she seemed to look at everything through a haze.

Grisha looked at the photo, tears falling.

"I... I've never seen her..."

Bennett nodded.

"I know."

Grisha raised his head.

"Is she... is she alright?"

Bennett looked at him.

"She's fine. Her mother works at a supermarket, and she's going to school."

Grisha's tears flowed even more fiercely.

He thought of what was said on the phone.

"What about your daughter?"

Now he knew what to do.

"Mr. Bennett," he began, his voice hoarse, "I'll tell you everything."

8 PM, outside Moscow, that villa.

The Boss sat in that large chair, holding a glass of vodka.

The flame in the fireplace burned brightly, but his back was still cold.

The phone rang.

He picked it up.

"Boss, Grisha has talked."

The Boss nodded.

"I know."

The voice on the other end paused.

"He told everything he knows. About the Principal, about Sergei, about you."

The Boss was silent for three seconds.

Then he asked:

"What about his daughter?"

"Still in Saint Petersburg."

The Boss nodded.

"Make her disappear."

The other end was stunned.

"Disappear? That's—"

"That's Volkov's move," the Boss interrupted him, "The Mexicans will look for her. Find her, they'll find him. Find him, they'll find me."

He stood up and walked to the window.

Outside, the Moscow night was very dark, very quiet.

"Do it."

The call ended.

9 PM, Saint Petersburg, Vasily Island, that old apartment building.

Anna Voronova sat in the kitchen, staring at the cold bowl of soup on the table.

She was fourteen, thin, pale, with big eyes, and like her father, she seemed to see everything through a haze.

Mom was still at work at the supermarket, wouldn't be back until ten.

Footsteps echoed from downstairs.

She ignored it.

The footsteps came closer. Climbed up the stairs, stopped at her door.

A knock on the door.

She stood up and walked to the door.

"Who is it?"

No one answered.

Two more knocks.

She hesitated, then opened the door.

Two people stood outside. Both wearing black down jackets, faces red from the cold, eyes like knives.

"Anna Voronova?"

She nodded.

The two stood on either side of her.

"Come with us."

She struggled, tried to scream, but her mouth was covered.

Then everything went black.

10 PM, Mexico City, Northern Prison.

Grisha sat in the interrogation room, a long transcript spread out before him.

He had said all he could. Who the Principal was, who Sergei was, where the villa was, where the money came from, to whom it was delivered.

Bennett sat across from him, reading page by page.

Reaching the last page, he looked up.

"Have you ever met the Principal?"

Grisha shook his head.

"No. He only contacts by phone."

"The voice?"

"Altered. Can't recognize it."

Bennett nodded.

He put away the transcript.

"Mr. Grisha, your daughter—"

Before he could finish, the door was pushed open.

A person rushed in, face pale.

"Mr. Bennett, something happened in Saint Petersburg."

Bennett stood up.

"What happened?"

The person paused.

"Anna's missing."

Grisha froze.

He looked at Bennett, looked at the person, looked at the closed door.

Then he stood up and rushed towards the door.

Two guards pinned him down.

"Mr. Grisha!" Bennett's voice was cold, "What are you doing?"

Grisha struggled, his eyes red.

"My daughter! They've taken my daughter!"

Bennett looked at him.

"How do you know it's them?"

Grisha froze.

He recalled that phone call.

"What about your daughter?"

Now he knew what to do.

"Mr. Bennett," his voice trembled, "please... save her..."

Bennett was silent for three seconds.

Then he turned around and said to the person:

"Tell the people in Saint Petersburg to investigate. All surveillance, all witnesses, all possible places."

He paused.

"Also, tell Mr. Victor, the Principal has made a move."

11 PM, outside Moscow, that villa.

The Boss stood by the window, looking out at the pitch-black night.

The phone rang.

He picked it up.

"Boss, Anna has arrived."

The Boss nodded.

"How is she?"

"Frightened. But she's not crying."

The Boss laughed.

Laughed lightly.

"Like her father."

He paused.

"Tell Grisha his daughter is with me. If he wants her to keep living, he should stop talking."

The other end was silent for two seconds.

Then said:

"He's already talked."

The Boss tapped his hand on the window frame.

"He's talked?"

"Said it all. About the Principal, about Sergei, about you."

The Boss was silent for three seconds.

Then he laughed.

Laughed even more lightly.

"Then let his daughter talk."