He turned around.
"Did we win? No. We just took a step according to his script."
Moses said nothing.
Shamir walked back to the desk and picked up the latest intelligence report on Grisha.
"Now he's in Mexico. He wants to move too."
He put down the report.
"Tell Victor, the Principal doesn't want victory. He wants chaos."
7 PM, Mexico City, Northern Prison.
Grisha sat in the interrogation room, facing the same empty chair.
The door opened.
Bennett came in.
He walked up to Grisha and sat down.
"Mr. Grisha, your daughter is in Saint Petersburg."
Grisha's hand trembled.
"Fourteen years old. Named Anna. Lives with her mother."
Grisha looked at him.
"How... how do you know?"
Bennett didn't answer.
He took a photo out of his pocket and placed it on the table.
The photo was of a little girl — thin, pale, big eyes, and, like Grisha, she seemed to look at everything through a haze.
Grisha looked at the photo, tears falling.
"I... I've never seen her..."
Bennett nodded.
