Black Mamba put down the pen.
"How's Tamara?"
Hendrick was stunned for a moment.
"That woman?"
Black Mamba nodded.
"She killed seventeen Russians. I've seen her file."
Hendrick was silent for two seconds.
"She didn't speak. Didn't say a word from start to finish."
Black Mamba stood up, walked to the window.
Outside, the night sky of Athens was very dark, with only a few lights in the distance.
"She doesn't need to speak."
He paused.
"She just needs to live. Live, and then wait."
Hendrick walked up to him.
"Boss, what do we do next?"
Black Mamba didn't answer.
He looked outside the window, watched for a long time.
Then he turned around.
"Where's Volkov?"
"In Pristina. Over with Cheku."
Black Mamba nodded.
"Tell him, the next batch, don't send them."
Hendrick was stunned for a moment.
"Don't send them? But the—"
"Three hundred is enough," Black Mamba interrupted him, "Any more would cause trouble."
He went to the table, picked up the map.
