"Got him!" crowed Aleksei, embracing the stuffed animal. "Now we go," the woman said, ushering them outside.

The four boys piled into the back seat of the car. It was cramped, andYakov had to sit halfway on Pyotr's lap.

"Can't you put your bony ass somewhere else?" grumbled Pyotr. "Where shall I put it? In your face?" Pyotr shoved him. He shoved back.

"Stop it!" ordered the woman from the front seat. "Behave yourselves."

"But there's not enough room back here," complained Pyotr.

"Then make room. And hush!" The woman glanced up at the building, towards the fourth floor. Towards Misha's flat. "Why are we waiting?" asked Aleksei. "Gregor. He's signing the papers."

"How long will it take?"

The woman sat back and stared straight ahead. "Not long."

A close call, thought Gregor as the boy Aleksei left the flat for the second time and slammed the door behind him. Had the little bastard popped in a moment later, there would be hell to pay. What was that stupid Nadiya doing, letting the brat back upstairs? He had been against using Nadiya from the start. But Reuben had insisted on a woman. People would trust a woman.

The boy's footsteps receded down the stairwell, a loud clompclomp followed by the thud of the building door.

Gregor turned to the pimp.

Misha was standing at the window, staring down at the street, at the car where his four boys sat. He pressed his hand to the glass, his fat fingers splayed in farewell. When he turned to face Gregor, his eyes were actually misted with tears.

But his first words were about the money. "Is it in the valise?"

"Yes," said Gregor. "All of it?"

"Twenty thousand American dollars. Five thousand per child. You did agree to the price."