Two weeks later, Chang saw Balalaika return to their rooftop. She took her Dragunov and left another spent cigar. The whole scene played out in less than two minutes, a paltry payoff for the many lonely hours Chang had spent watching for her from his high-rise window.

During the days, he kept busy, busier than he could sustain for more than a couple weeks at a go, because he needed to shore up the loyalties of his men and purge the risky practices that had seeped into his organization through his extended laziness. Ten years had passed since he set up shop in Roanapur, and he had gone far too long between house cleanings during that decade. He couldn't afford any more mistakes.

The work exhausted him, all those decisions about personnel and double-checking paperwork. By evening, Chang wanted nothing more than a shower and sleep, yet he would awaken, burning with unmet need, within hours of falling into bed.

When he awoke, Chang would take his robe and his newly acquired binoculars to the window and look for her.

It was stupid. Impatient Eddie stupid. To see her on that rooftop would change nothing, but Chang couldn't stop searching until Balalaika made it clear that she would no longer use the spot again. Two minutes was all she needed to close out that connection between them.

The feeling that chewed on Chang's guts as he watched her go had so many names, none of them flattering.

On the bright side, he would be able to sleep again, Chang told himself as that disgusting emotion gnawed on his insides. No more siren call of a gorgeous woman with killer aim and insomnia to pull him out of bed. Seven hours of consecutive sleep sounded like a fair trade for his miserable habit. He reasoned that it was all for the best.

When he awoke in the early hours of dawn and reached automatically for the binoculars, Chang finally admitted to himself that reason had nothing to do with it. Forget stupid; he was insane. Some part of him hoped for an impossible outcome in his next meeting with Balalaika, and as long as he owed her, he had an excuse to meet with her. He had to remove that excuse and close the loop around the neck of his mad hope.

The French lingerie cost a small fortune for what amounted to a little bit of black lace, but that lace had been engineered brilliantly to feed the fantasy of any man with decent taste. He had to guess at her size for the shipping order. The enclosed note read: Thanks for a good time. Let's do it again. Remember, I owe you.

It was a big, stupid, crazy move. Balalaika would hate it. Chang imagined her anger erupting like Mount Tambora when the package arrived at Hotel Moscow's main office. That would put an end to their private "dates" for months.

Chang signed the approval for the order and poured himself a well-deserved drink. His insane hope could drown now. Good riddance and good night.


Chang awoke at 4 am, again.

In his mind's eye, Balalaika looked up at him, drenched and triumphant with the Dragunov against her shoulder.

Fuck.