CHAPTER 16

Viktor Petrov had spent eleven years in corporate security, most of it profoundly boring, which was exactly how he liked it. Boring meant nothing had gone wrong. Boring meant everyone got to go home at the end of the day. So when Gavin Knight appeared at his desk with the particular energy of a man about to propose something deeply not boring, Viktor's first instinct was to say no before he'd even heard the request.

"Whatever it is," Viktor said, not looking up from his monitors, "no."

"You haven't heard it yet."

"I've known you four years. I don't need to hear it."

Gavin pulled up a chair anyway, uninvited, and set his laptop on the corner of Viktor's desk. "It's for a good cause."

"It's always for a good cause. That's how you get people to say yes to terrible ideas."

"Fine. Hear me out, and if you still hate it, I'll drop it and never mention it again." Gavin held up both hands in a show of good faith that Viktor, having known him four years, did not trust even slightly. "There's a dog. Mark's dog. Mark is neglecting him — actually neglecting him, not exaggerated office-gossip neglecting him. And a small coalition of us would like to relocate that dog to somewhere he'll actually be looked after."

Viktor turned from his monitors for the first time, weighing this. Whatever else could be said about Viktor — and there was a lot to say, most of it involving his near-supernatural patience for chaos — he had a soft spot for animals that ran deeper than his patience for corporate politics. "How relocated are we talking."

"Permanently. Quietly. Without anyone tracing it back to us."

"You're describing a felony."

"I'm describing an act of mercy that happens to require a building access schedule and a little creative timing," Gavin said. "Elena's in. Carter's in. Chloe from Creative is apparently already recruiting the night security guard."

"Marco."

"You know Marco?"

"Everyone knows Marco. Marco owes half this building a favor." Viktor sighed, the particular sigh of a man who could already feel himself being talked into something. "Show me what you have."

Gavin pulled up the floor plans, the elevator access logs, the penthouse schedule he'd already quietly requisitioned under the pretense of a routine security audit — an excuse that, conveniently, happened to be entirely true. "Mark's rarely home before nine most nights. Housekeeper does a check-in around six to feed Barnaby, which is more than Mark's managed on his own, but she leaves by seven. That gives us a window."

"A window for what, exactly? Someone just walks in and takes the dog?"

"More or less. Viktor, we're not talking about a bank vault. We're talking about a golden retriever and an apartment with a housekeeper who, if I had to guess, would probably help us if we asked her directly."

Viktor considered this. "You want to loop her in?"

"I want to loop in as few people as possible, but if she's the one who's been keeping him fed this whole time, she's already more invested in his welfare than half the people on this floor. She might be an asset instead of a risk."

"And if Mark notices before the dog's actually out of the building?"

"Then we improvise," Gavin admitted. "Which, frankly, is my specialty."

"That is deeply unreassuring."

"You're still listening, though."

Viktor didn't answer that directly, which was, Gavin had learned over four years, as close to a yes as the man ever gave before he'd fully committed.

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By the end of the hour, they had the outline of something resembling a plan — not polished, not fully vetted, but a plan nonetheless. Viktor would handle the building logistics and Marco. Gavin would keep watch on Mark's calendar and flag any last-minute schedule changes. Carter would coordinate timing with Elena, who wanted final say on the exact night, and Chloe had already, apparently, started drafting what she was calling contingency scenarios, most of which involved disguises Viktor found deeply unnecessary.

"One condition," Viktor said, as Gavin started packing up his laptop.

"Name it."

"If this goes sideways — if security gets involved, if Mark calls the police over his own dog, whatever — I'm the one who talks to whoever needs talking to. Not you. You're a terrible liar under pressure."

"That's fair," Gavin said, genuinely offended but unable to argue the point. "I do fold immediately."

"You fold immediately." Viktor closed his laptop with the air of a man who had, against his better judgment, just agreed to something. "When?"

"End of the week. Elena wants it done before the Apex Global launch takes over everyone's schedule."

"End of the week." Viktor pulled a legal pad from his top drawer, already sketching a rough floor plan from memory — years of walking the building's every corridor for security sweeps had left him with a near-photographic sense of the place. "I want a dry run first. Someone walks the route once, timed, before we actually attempt it. No dog, no risk, just confirming the window holds up in practice and not just on paper."

"You're taking this more seriously than I expected."

"I take everything seriously. It's why I'm good at my job." Viktor tapped the pad. "Who's your dry-run candidate?"

"Chloe volunteered. Enthusiastically."

"Of course she did." Viktor made a note. "Tell her to walk it Wednesday, same time we'd actually be doing it Thursday or Friday. If the housekeeper's schedule shifts even fifteen minutes, I want to know before we're standing in that hallway with a dog and no plan B."

"You really have done this before, haven't you."

"Corporate security for eleven years," Viktor said, not looking up from the pad. "You'd be amazed what people try to sneak out of buildings. Servers. Prototypes. Once, memorably, an entire aquarium someone felt entitled to from a failed startup's office. A dog is, relatively speaking, one of the more sympathetic things I've been asked to help move."

Gavin laughed despite himself. "I feel like there's a story there."

"There are several. None of which I'm telling you until this is over and I know you can keep your mouth shut about at least one of them." Viktor finally looked up, something almost warm in his usually flat expression. "This matters to you. The dog."

"It matters to Chloe. And once she explained it, it started mattering to me too." Gavin shrugged, a little self-conscious. "Feels good to actually fix something, instead of just flagging problems and watching them sit in someone's inbox for a month."

"Don't get used to it," Viktor said dryly. "Most weeks around here, flagging and waiting is the job." But he said it without much conviction, already sketching a second contingency route on the legal pad, and Gavin got the distinct impression that Viktor, too, was looking forward to this more than he'd ever admit out loud.