Kira definitely wasn’t going to the police station. Instead her driver took her into the maze of dockside warehouses along the Thames; Sebastian could only follow so far in his own vehicle without being spotted, and parked the car so he could investigate further on foot.
The trail ended outside a warehouse, home to a small import/export company. The driver waited in the car park, scrolling his phone, but Kira was nowhere to be seen.
Sebastian quietly approached the warehouse’s side door and picked it open. The interior was a maze of crates and equipment; voices echoed through the space, bouncing off the high ceiling and metal rafters. Kira was snapping at somebody in Russian—haranguing them for their carelessness.
Between the rows of crates, Sebastian caught glimpses of beds and camping gear. Someone had set up a makeshift barracks inside the warehouse, with roughly half a dozen occupants: men like the ones Sebastian had encountered last night. Exactly like, in some cases; he spotted a familiar face slumped in a chair with his arm in a sling, nursing the elbow Sebastian had dislocated.
A masculine voice interrupted Kira’s tirade with a complaint about concussions, and two men who were in hospital. Suspicion dawned, and Sebastian moved to get eyes on the conversation.
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