The drive to the clinic was a ridiculous exhibition of power and paranoia. We weren't driving to a routine prenatal check-up; we were initiating a military maneuver. A phalanx of black SUVs flanked our armored car, Ivan and Alexander personally leading the advance. Every window of the clinic had been sealed, every employee vetted, and the entire block had been designated a temporary no-fly zone.

Vladimir sat next to me, his presence a fortress of tailored gray wool and contained tension. His ...