Mikhail
In silence, Pavel drives us down a gutted road toward an almost identical concrete building enclosed by lush, tall weeds. I look at each utility pole lining the way and wonder which one Ippolit shot. It's impossible to tell when the scenery looks the same. Instead of fighting over castles and mansions, we fight over these blighted industrial areas—an odd mixture of the sinister and the banal. The only thing I know for certain is that the brigadiers will continue to defy my authority.
The only thing that will change that is death.
"Ippolit was a good man." Pavel's voice interrupts my own dark thoughts. "Damn good shot too." Pavel looks at me in the mirror. "He taught me how to shoot. He didn't have to, but he did."
"And look where that got him." I sigh.
"Stubborn bastard almost
