Igor downed his shot and watched Timokhin do the same. He refilled the glasses. He’d seen Timokhin slip up once before. Just a small slip. They’d been at a function, a grand gala with the wives, and Timokhin got very drunk. In the men’s room, standing in front of the urinals, Igor asked him about an operation, about a mole he was running, and Timokhin gave away that she was a woman. He’d looked across the urinals, cock in hand, and winked. A small thing, but enough.

It was a dangerous game and Igor had no choice but to roll the dice. Tatyana may have been leaking to the Americans, but someone had found her out. Someone had reported her. And it had happened in Igor’s house, under Igor’s watch.

“Was it the American who betrayed her?” he said.

He knew it wasn’t. She’d been betrayed by someone on their own side. Someone closer to home.

“Now, now, Igor,” Timokhin said. “We’re here to be friendly, not settle scores.”

“I know,” Igor said, forcing himself to smile. “It’s just, let me confide something in you, Timokhin.”

“Yes?” Timokhin said, leaning forward.

They knocked back another shot and Igor refilled the glasses. “I’m not sure if you’ve heard the rumors.”

“This building is full of rumors, Igor.”

“Well, let me put it this way. You know I’m a man with red blood.”

“I never doubted it,” Timokhin said.

“I have,” he held out his hands, “appetites.”

“Let me assure you,” Timokhin said, “it would take a lot more than appetites, as you put it, to shock me.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Igor said.

“I have stories that would shock a priest,” Timokhin said.

Igor laughed.

“Really,” Timokhin said.

“Then I can tell you,” Igor said, “this slut, Tatyana.”

“Yes?”

“She had a way of scratching my itch that will not be easy to replace.”

“Igor, Igor, Igor,” Timokhin said. “The first lesson of the top floor you need to learn is that everyone can be replaced.”

Igor knew he had to dangle something juicy if he was to get anywhere. “Not this,” he said, eyeing Timokhin. “This was something really … specific.”

“How so?”

“It’s a niche thing,” Igor said. “Not something your average whore would be willing to accommodate. Even for extra.”

Timokhin was wondering what it could be that would give even a whore pause. Igor knew he’d be interested. Even by Igor’s standards, Timokhin was a deviant creep. This was right up his alley.

“She really is unique,” Igor said.

“You’re sorry to see her go.”

“Like you told me,” Igor said, “all fathers have their favorites.”

“You’ll get over it.”

“I’ll tell you the truth, Timokhin,” Igor said. “I’m wondering if it’s avoidable.”