PART 2 — THE NAME ON THE BADGE
His eyes moved across the photograph.
Then to Victoria’s face.
Then back to the identification card.
For several seconds, he didn’t say a word.
The second officer leaned closer.
“What does it say?”
The first inspector didn’t answer.
His thumb was covering part of the card.
“Sergei?”
Nothing.
“Give it to me.”
The second officer grabbed the leather case from his partner.
His eyes scanned the first line.
Then the second.
The smirk vanished from his face.
VICTORIA SOKOLOVA
OFFICIAL INVESTIGATIONS UNIT
SPECIAL FIELD INVESTIGATOR
AUTHORIZED — INTERNAL CORRUPTION & PROFESSIONAL MISCONDUCT
The officer swallowed.
Then he looked at Victoria.
She was still standing exactly where they had forced her.
Face toward the car.
Hands cuffed behind her back.
A red mark had already appeared around one wrist where the metal had been tightened too far.
Neither man moved.
Victoria finally broke the silence.
“Finished reading?”
The second officer immediately looked toward the patrol car.
“Sergei…”
“I know.”
“No, I don’t think you do.”
“I said I know.”
The first inspector—Sergei—closed the leather case.
His hands were no longer steady.
Victoria noticed.
“Would one of you mind removing the handcuffs?”
Sergei stepped behind her so quickly that he nearly dropped the key.
Click.
One cuff opened.
Then the other.
Victoria slowly brought her hands forward.
She rubbed her wrists.
Neither officer spoke.
A minute earlier, they had been laughing.
Now neither could look her directly in the eyes.
Victoria turned around.
“Your names.”
Sergei cleared his throat.
“Inspector Sergei Volkov.”
She looked at the second.
“And you?”
“Anton Mikhailov.”
“Badge numbers.”
Anton hesitated.
Victoria looked at him.
“Do I need to ask twice?”
He gave the number.
Sergei followed.
Victoria repeated both numbers quietly, committing them to memory.
Then she held out her hand.
“My identification.”
Sergei returned the leather case immediately.
“And my driver’s license.”
He retrieved her documents from the roof of the car.
Victoria inspected them before putting them away.
Anton finally found his voice.
“Listen, this is obviously a misunderstanding.”
Victoria looked at him.
“A misunderstanding?”
“Yes.”
“You opened my vehicle without permission.”
Anton said nothing.
“You pulled me from the driver’s seat.”
Silence.
“You pressed me against my car.”
Silence.
“You handcuffed me.”
Anton glanced toward Sergei.
Victoria continued.
“And neither of you has yet explained why I was stopped.”
Sergei stepped forward.
“We received information about a suspicious vehicle.”
“What vehicle?”
“A vehicle matching yours.”
“Make?”
He hesitated.
“Similar.”
“Color?”
Another pause.
“Dark.”
Victoria looked at her silver car.
Anton closed his eyes for half a second.
Victoria almost smiled.
“Interesting.”
Sergei quickly corrected himself.
“I mean the description wasn’t exact.”
“What description?”
“A possible stolen vehicle.”
“Registration?”
“We didn’t have one.”
“Make?”
“Not specified.”
“Model?”
“Not specified.”
“Color?”
“Not specified.”
Victoria tilted her head.
“So you received information about a stolen vehicle with no registration number, no make, no model, and no color?”
Sergei’s face reddened.
Anton interrupted.
“Look, nobody was hurt.”
Victoria slowly raised both wrists.
Red marks were visible around them.
“You sure?”
Anton immediately regretted speaking.
Victoria walked toward the rear of her car.
She looked up at the patrol vehicle.
Then she noticed something.
The dashboard camera.
Its indicator light was dark.
She pointed toward it.
“Why isn’t your camera recording?”
Neither man answered.
Victoria looked at their uniforms.
“Body cameras?”
Anton instinctively touched his chest.
There was a camera clipped there.
No indicator.
Sergei’s was the same.
Victoria stared at them.
“You both forgot to activate your cameras?”
Sergei answered quickly.
“Equipment problem.”
“Both cameras?”
“Yes.”
“And the patrol dash camera?”
Sergei’s eyes hardened slightly.
“Also malfunctioning.”
Victoria nodded.
“Three cameras failed simultaneously.”
Anton said, “It happens.”
“I’m sure it does.”
Her tone made him uncomfortable.
Victoria walked back toward the driver’s door.
Sergei seemed to regain some confidence.
“Listen, Investigator Sokolova, we didn’t know who you were.”
Victoria stopped.
Slowly.
She turned toward him.
“What does that change?”
Sergei realized his mistake.
Victoria walked back.
“If I were a waitress, would this have been acceptable?”
“No, that’s not what I meant.”
“A student?”
“No.”
“A mother driving home?”
“Of course not.”
“Then why does knowing my job matter?”
Sergei said nothing.
Victoria stepped closer.
“You didn’t become worried because you realized what you did was wrong.”
She looked at Anton.
“You became worried because you realized who you did it to.”
That sentence silenced both men.
A truck passed on the highway.
Wind moved the grass along the roadside.
For several seconds, the only sound was the fading engine.
Then Victoria asked:
“Where is the written record of this stop?”
Sergei blinked.
“What?”
“You stopped me.”
“Yes.”
“Where did you log it?”
“We haven’t yet.”
“What time did you initiate the stop?”
“Approximately three twenty.”
“Dispatch notification?”
Silence.
Victoria’s expression changed.
“You didn’t notify dispatch.”
Anton said quickly, “We were about to.”
“Before or after putting me in your vehicle?”
Neither answered.
Victoria pulled out her phone.
Sergei immediately stepped forward.
“Who are you calling?”
She looked at him.
“Does that concern you?”
He stopped.
Victoria dialed.
A man answered after two rings.
“Sokolova.”
“It’s Victoria.”
“Everything okay?”
She looked at Sergei and Anton.
“No.”
The man’s tone changed immediately.
“Location?”
“Route seventeen, approximately nine kilometers south of the Belov junction.”
“What happened?”
“I was stopped by two traffic inspectors.”
Pause.
“Reason?”
“None provided.”
“Continue.”
“Removed from my vehicle by force.”
Sergei looked at Anton.
“Handcuffed.”
The voice on the phone became colder.
“Injuries?”
“Minor.”
“Names?”
“Sergei Volkov and Anton Mikhailov.”
Both officers went pale.
“Badge numbers?”
Victoria provided them.
“Stay where you are.”
The call ended.
Sergei stepped toward her.
“Was that really necessary?”
Victoria put her phone away.
“Yes.”
Anton looked down the road.
“How long before they arrive?”
Victoria looked at him.
“Why?”
“No reason.”
But there was a reason.
She could see it in his face.
He wanted to leave.
Sergei lowered his voice.
“Victoria, perhaps we can handle this professionally.”
She looked at him.
“Professionally?”
“Yes.”
“That option existed when you walked up to my window.”
Sergei clenched his jaw.
“We made a mistake.”
“Then document it.”
“What?”
“Write the stop report.”
Anton looked at him.
Sergei said, “We can do that at the station.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because five minutes ago you weren’t planning to document anything.”
Sergei’s expression hardened.
Something in him was changing again.
The fear was still there.
But beneath it was anger.
Victoria noticed.
She also noticed Anton quietly walking toward the patrol car.
“Where are you going?”
Anton stopped.
“To get the forms.”
“Good.”
But instead of opening the passenger door, Anton walked toward the driver’s side.
Victoria watched him carefully.
Sergei moved slightly, blocking her view.
Too obvious.
“Move.”
“What?”
“Step aside.”
Sergei didn’t.
Victoria’s voice became colder.
“Inspector Volkov, move.”
He stepped aside.
Anton was inside the patrol car.
His hand was near the radio.
But he wasn’t speaking into it.
He was reaching beneath the dashboard.
Victoria immediately walked toward him.
“What are you doing?”
Anton jerked his hand away.
“Nothing.”
“Get out.”
He stared at her.
“Excuse me?”
“Get out of the vehicle.”
“You don’t have authority to order—”
Victoria pulled out her identification again.
“Would you like to test that theory?”
Anton climbed out.
Victoria leaned into the vehicle.
Under the dashboard was a small digital recorder.
Not standard equipment.
A removable memory card protruded from the side.
She looked at Sergei.
“What is this?”
He shrugged.
“Don’t know.”
“You drive this vehicle.”
“Not always.”
Victoria examined the device without touching it.
A cable ran from it toward the patrol radio system.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Then she noticed something else.
A small black button mounted beneath the steering column.
“What does that do?”
Anton answered too quickly.
“Nothing.”
Victoria looked at him.
“You installed a button that does nothing?”
“Old equipment.”
“What equipment?”
Silence.
Victoria stepped back.
“Don’t touch the patrol car.”
Sergei laughed nervously.
“Now you’re investigating our vehicle?”
“I wasn’t.”
She looked at the recorder.
“But apparently I should.”
Sergei’s expression became serious.
“Victoria.”
It was the first time he had used her first name.
“You don’t understand what you’re looking at.”
“Then explain it.”
“I can’t.”
“Can’t?”
“Shouldn’t.”
That was different.
Victoria studied him.
“Why?”
Sergei glanced at Anton.
Anton shook his head slightly.
Victoria saw it.
“You two need to decide whether you’re afraid of me or someone else.”
Neither responded.
That answer was enough.
In the distance, engines appeared.
Two dark vehicles.
No markings.
Anton saw them.
His face went white.
Sergei whispered something under his breath.
Victoria couldn’t hear it.
The vehicles slowed and stopped behind her car.
Four people stepped out.
Plain clothes.
Two men.
Two women.
The man who had answered Victoria’s call approached first.
“Victoria.”
“Director Orlov.”
His eyes went immediately to her wrists.
“What happened?”
She explained briefly.
Orlov listened without interrupting.
When she finished, he looked at Sergei and Anton.
“Identification.”
They handed it over.
Orlov passed the cards to one of his investigators.
“Verify.”
Sergei said, “Director, this was a misunderstanding.”
Orlov ignored him.
Victoria pointed toward the patrol car.
“There’s something else.”
She showed him the device beneath the dashboard.
Orlov bent down.
His expression changed instantly.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
Victoria noticed.
“You know what it is.”
Orlov stood.
“Don’t touch anything.”
He called one of his investigators.
“Photograph the interior exactly as it is.”
Sergei stepped forward.
“Sir, that equipment belongs to the department.”
Orlov looked at him.
“Then your department can explain why it is installed.”
Anton suddenly spoke.
“We didn’t put it there.”
Everyone turned.
Sergei stared at him.
“Anton.”
Anton ignored him.
“We didn’t install it.”
Victoria stepped closer.
“Who did?”
Anton looked terrified.
“I don’t know.”
Sergei grabbed his arm.
“Stop talking.”
Orlov’s voice sharpened.
“Remove your hand from him.”
Sergei released Anton.
Victoria watched the younger officer.
“You know something.”
Anton shook his head.
“Anton.”
“I don’t.”
“You were about to remove the memory card.”
His eyes flicked toward her.
That was confirmation.
Victoria lowered her voice.
“What is recorded on it?”
Anton swallowed.
“Stops.”
“What kind of stops?”
No answer.
Orlov stepped closer.
“Officer Mikhailov, if you’re protecting someone, this is the moment to reconsider.”
Anton looked at Sergei.
Then toward the road.
Then at the unmarked vehicles.
Finally, he whispered:
“Payments.”
Victoria frowned.
“What payments?”
Anton closed his eyes.
“Drivers.”
Sergei exploded.
“SHUT UP!”
One of Orlov’s investigators immediately stepped between them.
Anton backed away.
Victoria stared at him.
“What were drivers paying for?”
Anton spoke quickly now.
“To avoid citations.”
Sergei shouted:
“He’s lying!”
Anton continued.
“Sometimes citations.”
“Sometimes inspections.”
“Sometimes… other things.”
“What other things?”
Anton hesitated.
“Cargo.”
Victoria’s expression changed.
“What cargo?”
“Trucks.”
“What trucks?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.”
Anton looked at her.
“They gave us plate numbers.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know their names.”
“Who gave you the numbers?”
“Captain.”
“Your captain?”
Anton nodded.
“He’d send us a plate number and a time.”
“And?”
“We were told not to stop those vehicles.”
Victoria looked at Orlov.
Orlov’s face had become unreadable.
“How long?” she asked.
Anton whispered:
“Almost two years.”
Sergei shook his head violently.
“Don’t believe him. He’s trying to save himself.”
Anton suddenly turned on him.
“You took the money too!”
Sergei lunged.
Investigators grabbed him.
“Get off me!”
Orlov pointed toward the unmarked vehicle.
“Separate them.”
Sergei was taken toward one vehicle.
Anton toward another.
Victoria remained beside the patrol car.
Orlov looked at the mysterious recorder.
“What?”
Victoria asked.
He didn’t answer.
“Director.”
He sighed.
“That isn’t a traffic recorder.”
“What is it?”
“A radio capture device.”
“For what?”
“It records selected radio frequencies.”
“Police frequencies?”
“Among others.”
Victoria looked at the memory card.
“Why would traffic officers need that?”
“They wouldn’t.”
A chill moved through her.
“Then someone is using patrol cars to monitor communications.”
“Possibly.”
“Whose communications?”
Orlov looked at her.
“That is what we need to determine.”
An investigator approached holding a tablet.
“Director.”
“What?”
“We verified both officers.”
“And?”
“Volkov has seventeen complaints in four years.”
Victoria stared.
“Seventeen?”
“Eleven dismissed.”
“Six unresolved.”
“What kind?”
“Illegal searches. Excessive force. Unexplained cash seizures.”
Orlov’s jaw tightened.
“And Mikhailov?”
“Three complaints.”
The investigator paused.
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
“Volkov’s personnel file contains an administrative protection flag.”
Victoria frowned.
“A what?”
The investigator turned the tablet.
“Any disciplinary action against him requires authorization from regional command.”
Orlov stared at the screen.
“Who placed it?”
“We’re checking.”
Victoria looked toward Sergei.
He was sitting in the back of one of the vehicles.
He no longer looked frightened.
He was smiling.
That bothered her.
“Director.”
Orlov followed her gaze.
Sergei looked directly at Victoria.
Then slowly shook his head.
Not threateningly.
Almost pityingly.
As if she had made a mistake.
Victoria walked toward him.
One investigator tried to stop her.
Orlov raised a hand.
Let her.
Victoria stopped outside the open vehicle door.
“Something funny?”
Sergei smiled.
“You think you caught two corrupt traffic cops.”
“Didn’t I?”
“No.”
“Then explain.”
“You have no idea what you just opened.”
Victoria held his stare.
“Try me.”
Sergei leaned forward.
“The road isn’t ours.”
“What does that mean?”
He smiled.
“We just collect.”
“For whom?”
His smile disappeared.
“You’ll find out.”
“Captain?”
Sergei laughed.
“The captain collects too.”
“Then who’s above him?”
Sergei looked past her toward Orlov.
And for the first time, his confidence disappeared.
“Ask your director.”
Victoria turned.
Orlov’s face gave nothing away.
When she looked back, Sergei was smiling again.
“Interesting,” Victoria said.
Sergei whispered:
“You should have kept driving.”
The investigator closed the vehicle door.
Victoria walked back toward Orlov.
“What did he mean?”
“It’s intimidation.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
She studied him.
“You recognized the recorder immediately.”
“I’ve seen similar equipment.”
“Where?”
“Previous investigations.”
“Which investigations?”
Orlov’s voice hardened.
“Victoria.”
“What?”
“You’re too close to this now.”
She almost laughed.
“They put me in handcuffs.”
“Exactly.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I want another team handling it.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re now a complainant and potential witness.”
“That didn’t answer my question.”
Orlov looked around.
Then lowered his voice.
“We’ve been investigating unusual activity on this road for eight months.”
Victoria froze.
“You knew?”
“We suspected.”
“Suspected what?”
“Protected freight movement.”
“What kind of freight?”
“We don’t know.”
“And you never told me.”
“You weren’t assigned.”
Victoria looked toward the patrol car.
“Those officers were letting selected trucks pass.”
“Yes.”
“And taking money from ordinary drivers?”
“Apparently.”
“As cover?”
“Possibly.”
She thought about her stop.
Then something occurred to her.
“Why did they stop me?”
Orlov frowned.
“They were abusing their authority.”
“No.”
“What?”
“They were nervous before they knew who I was.”
She replayed the encounter in her mind.
The long examination of her documents.
The way the second officer watched through the window.
The insistence that she get out.
The attempt to stop her from recording.
Maybe they hadn’t randomly selected her.
Maybe they had been looking for something.
Victoria walked back toward her car.
She opened the driver’s door.
“Victoria?”
She ignored Orlov.
Passenger seat.
Nothing.
Back seat.
Nothing.
Trunk.
She pressed the release.
The trunk opened.
Inside were two grocery bags, a jacket, an emergency kit, and a small travel bag.
Everything looked normal.
Then Victoria noticed the carpet.
One corner was raised.
She hadn’t raised it.
She pulled it back.
Spare tire.
Jack.
And something else.
A small gray package.
Her heart stopped.
“Orlov.”
He came immediately.
“Don’t touch it.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
The package was taped beneath the carpet.
Victoria stared at it.
“That isn’t mine.”
Orlov called the evidence technician.
Photographs were taken.
Gloves.
Careful removal.
The package was opened.
Inside was a black encrypted phone.
No manufacturer logo.
No SIM information.
Nothing.
And beside it—
a photograph.
Victoria.
Taken three days earlier.
She was leaving her apartment.
On the back of the photograph, someone had written:
ROUTE 17.
THURSDAY.
3:00–4:00.
SILVER SEDAN.
Victoria felt cold despite the afternoon sun.
This wasn’t a random stop.
Someone had planted the package in her car.
Someone had given Sergei and Anton her description.
Someone had wanted those officers to find that phone.
Or perhaps remove it.
Or perhaps remove her.
Orlov stared at the photograph.
“Who knew you’d be driving this route today?”
Victoria thought.
“My office.”
“Anyone else?”
“My sister.”
“Who at the office?”
“My supervisor.”
Orlov’s expression changed.
Victoria noticed immediately.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No. What?”
He didn’t answer.
She stepped closer.
“Who is my supervisor connected to?”
Orlov looked at the encrypted phone.
Then toward the officers.
Finally he said:
“Your supervisor requested your route assignment yesterday.”
Victoria’s stomach tightened.
“I wasn’t on an assignment.”
“I know.”
“What are you talking about?”
“He accessed the vehicle-location system at 9:14 this morning.”
“Why?”
“We don’t know.”
Victoria stared at him.
“You knew someone checked my location?”
“We received the audit alert thirty minutes ago.”
“Before or after I called you?”
“After.”
She looked at the photograph again.
Then at the encrypted phone.
A vibration suddenly came from inside the evidence bag.
Everyone froze.
The phone had turned itself on.
The black screen illuminated.
One message appeared.
NO CALLER ID.
Orlov motioned for everyone to stay silent.
The phone rang once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then stopped.
A text appeared.
DID SHE FIND IT?
Victoria stared at the screen.
Another message appeared.
VOLKOV, ANSWER ME.
Every eye turned toward Sergei in the unmarked vehicle.
He could see their faces through the window.
His smile disappeared.
Then another message arrived.
YOU HAVE TEN MINUTES TO BRING SOKOLOVA TO CHECKPOINT 6.
Victoria looked at Orlov.
“What is Checkpoint Six?”
He didn’t answer quickly enough.
“Director.”
Orlov’s face had gone pale.
“It was closed six years ago.”
“Where?”
“Fourteen kilometers north.”
“Why was it closed?”
Orlov looked at the message.
“An officer disappeared there.”
Victoria’s pulse quickened.
“What officer?”
Orlov hesitated.
Then said:
“My partner.”
Silence.
Victoria stared at him.
“You had a partner?”
“Before I became director.”
“What happened?”
“He was investigating protected freight on Route Seventeen.”
The same road.
Six years earlier.
“And he disappeared?”
“Yes.”
“Body?”
“Never found.”
“Name?”
Orlov looked at her.
“Alexei Sokolov.”
Victoria stopped breathing.
Sokolov.
Her father’s surname.
She stared at Orlov.
“No.”
Orlov’s expression changed.
Victoria stepped backward.
“No.”
“Victoria—”
“My father died in a traffic accident.”
“That is what you were told.”
She stared at him.
“My father was an accountant.”
Orlov said nothing.
“My mother told me he was an accountant.”
“She was protecting you.”
Victoria’s voice dropped to a whisper.
“Protecting me from what?”
Orlov looked toward the encrypted phone.
“From the people who made him disappear.”
The device vibrated again.
One final message appeared.
And this time it wasn’t addressed to Volkov.
It was addressed directly to her.
VICTORIA,
IF YOU WANT TO KNOW WHAT REALLY HAPPENED TO YOUR FATHER,
COME TO CHECKPOINT 6.
COME ALONE.
And beneath the message was a photograph.
Old.
Grainy.
Timestamped six years earlier.
A man was sitting inside a concrete room.
Bruised.
Handcuffed.
But unmistakably alive.
Victoria knew that face.
She had spent years looking at it in a framed photograph beside her mother’s bed.
Her father.
And standing behind him in the photograph was someone else.
Someone wearing the uniform of the Official Investigations Unit.
Victoria slowly enlarged the image.
Her fingers began trembling.
Because she recognized that face too.
She lifted her eyes from the phone.
And looked directly at Director Orlov.
