The sun was a pale, uninterested disk attempting to peer through the thick Russian clouds. Inside the Volkov mansion, the aftermath of violence had been clinically erased, but the tension was a physical force, clinging to the heavy velvet curtains and the marble floors.

Vladimir was in his war room, but the echo of his commands reached Isabella even in the quiet solitude of the library. The suppression of the attack had been instantaneous and total.

"The digital footprint is gone," Ivan ...