Just after lunch, everyone gathered in the small conference room: me, Randy, Ryan, and several of the officers based in Ukraine, but no one started the meeting. I was absently tapping my pen against the transcripts I’d been perusing when the door opened and two more men entered. Even in my peripheral vision I immediately sensed David.
“Our British friends are here,” commented the head Kherson officer, a man named Carl, before deferring to Ryan with a nod.
“I’m sure you all know that MI6 keeps a close eye on the same things we do, especially with so many trafficking victims ending up the UK.” I could hear Ryan’s voice, coming from my right, but I was too busy trying to act calm to respond, so he continued. “They’re here for a briefing on this new twist the Atanasovs are up to, which we’re only too happy to provide, as a professional courtesy.”
David’s face was a mask of calm as he nodded politely. “We appreciate the consideration.”
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