Chapter 5

They came for me at 8:45. I didn't scream. Screaming meant fear, and I refused to give Katya that. The Volkov clinic was a white box in Bridgeport with blacked-out windows. The nurse didn't meet my eyes. The doctor had a Russian accent and cold hands. "Lie back, please," he said. "A quick procedure. You'll feel nothing." On the steel tray beside the table: a speculum. A syringe. A suction cannula. I knew exactly what they were for. "Who ordered this?" "Your employer." "Show me his signature." He...