The Groznyj Grad Living Novel

Nika frowned.

"Major Raikov, that would make sense. Major Ocelot-"

Liadov toyed with a pipette and shrugged vacantly.

"I don't really see how his tangential involvement is significant."

At that point the door burst open, and with it a chill from the less balmy hall outside.

Ocelot closed it behind him with equal vigor, and Liadov raised a mollified brow.

"But when you name the wolf, he comes running."

He glanced obliquely at the sniper and the pathologist.

"Perhaps I'm mistaken."

Ocelot's eyes were narrow, but his body mechanics were tautly controlled.

His eyes searched rapidly, and fell on the table where the jumble of accesselotteries lay benignly.

"What is this?" he demanded, without preamble, pointing to them.