Page 118 of Sexting the Pakhan

Pavel’s voice drops. “Andrei says parents are starting to come out.”

I look toward the main entrance.

The program is ending. Families begin spilling into the evening in small, noisy clusters. Children with paper crowns. Parents carrying bags, paper cards, half-eaten cupcakes. A little boy runs ahead until his father catches him by the hood of his jacket. A woman laughs near the gate while trying to hold three coats and a plate wrapped in foil.

My phone sits heavy in my pocket. The photo is still in my head. Two girls. Hands linked. One all glitter and daring, the other serious enough to judge the world and find it badly organized.

Somewhere in that crowd is the woman from the number.

I don’t know her face.

That makes the whole scene worse.

“Where is the watcher by the van?” I ask.

Pavel listens. “Still smoking. Malik says he looks calm.”

“Too calm,” Stepan says.

“Yes,” I say.

A calm man beside a van with no plates while his partner vanishes behind a shed is not waiting for stolen cases. He is waiting for us to look at him.

I open the car door.

Stepan catches my sleeve. “Ruslan.”

“We move now.”

“Families are outside.”

“That’s why we move now.”

He understands after half a second. If this is bait, it will not wait for the street to clear politely. If Lenkov has slipped away behind the shed, he’s either running or setting the next piece in motion.

Both are problems.

I step out into the cold. Pavel gets out on the other side, still speaking into his earpiece. Stepan follows me, close enough to stop me if he has to, far enough that he can draw if he needs to.

I look once toward the main entrance. Parents are loading children into cars. The teachers stand by the door, smiling, waving, tired. Nothing about it looks dangerous unless you know where to look.

Then the white van’s rear lights blink once.

Not on.

Just a flash. A signal.

“Stepan,” I say.

“I saw.”

Pavel says, “Malik lost the second man.”

I stop. “The smoker?”

Pavel’s face is pale now. “Yes.”

“How?”