He kept his breath regulated. His hands steady. Be still, and know that I am God. Perhaps the Lord hadn’t made a way for Zivon. But He would protect her, wouldn’t He? He must protect her. “I am sorry. I don’t know what you mean. There was another photo in there?”

His brother huffed. “Don’t play ignorant. If either of them fell out in the crash, it would have been the one of the officers. Not that one.”

Zivon turned. Slowly, carefully. Faced his brother. Batya’s eyes. Matushka’s smile. All they’d ever had in common. “I don’t have it.”

All they had in common, but they knew each other. Too well, perhaps. Evgeni cocked his head. “So you get it. You get it, Zivon, or I will, from whoever has it.”

Lily. He’d keep her safe, keep her out of this, if it was the last thing he did. She’d not end up dead like Alyona. Not because of him.

His mind raced. The first image—soldiers. Officers fomenting rebellion, Hall had said. They knew now who they were. They had their names.

But Evgeni and the blond woman must not—and they must need them. All he had to do was keep that information from them as long as possible. Delay them until the Germans could put their plan into effect, perhaps nudged along by Hall’s contacts.

He lifted his brows and prayed his brother would read disdain in his eyes instead of desperation. “You just made that rather difficult for me to do, given that I’m no longer welcome at the Admiralty. How exactly do you expect me to get it back now? Or do you think you can break into the Old Building as easily as your lady friend got into my flat?”

A corner of Evgeni’s mouth quirked up. And that was why Zivon had always loved him so fiercely, even when they were at odds. Only his brother could laugh at a time like this. “I told her you would know.”

“Yes. Even before I saw the glass she broke in my picture frame.” He motioned to where it hung on the wall, the shards long since removed and thrown out.

Evgeni huffed, but it still sounded amused. “She didn’t mention that.”

Zivon borrowed one of Hall’s mannerisms and blinked at him. “Who is she? She told the embassy you were engaged.”

“Did she?” That seemed to please his brother as much as it surprised him. “Interesting.”

“Would Matushka have liked her?”

Evgeni snorted a laugh. “Hardly. But as to how you are to get the photo back—you’re clever, Zivon. You can come up with something.”

“No doubt. But I will need time.”

“I’ll give you a day.”