They pulled up to the warehouse forty minutes later, the same one where Dimitri had brought Enzo for proper education after he visited Eve.
Marco was waiting outside with the team.
"He's inside. Conscious. Relatively unharmed." Marco's expression was grim. "He's FSB trained, boss. This won't be easy."
"I don't need easy." Dimitri shed his suit jacket, rolled up his sleeves. "I need information. And I'll get it. One way or another."
The warehouse inner room was exactly as Dimitri had left it. Single chair bolted to the concrete floor. Table with tools....pliers, knives, blowtorch, cables. Overhead lights casting harsh shadows.
And tied to the chair, cable-tied at wrists and ankles, was Viktor Kozlov.
Late forties. Scarred face. Cold eyes that had seen violence and delivered plenty of it himself.
He didn't look afraid.
Well he should have been.
