The Dead Toys Know Too Much

Dmitry Kuznetsov stepped into the thin light. His face was calm. His hands were empty. "You're welcome."

Sofia kept the gun raised. "For what?"

"For not being dead."

Outside, sirens wailed in the distance. The wind howled through the cracked window frame.

Sofia's finger hovered over the trigger. "Did you send them?"

Dmitry's smile was razor thin. "If I wanted you dead, detective, you'd never hear the shot."

They stood frozen in that moment. The gun between them. The city burning below. The truth neither would say.

Then Dmitry moved. Not toward her. Not away. Just to the window, where he watched the snow fall on the broken streets. "They'll keep coming."

Sofia lowered the gun slightly. "Why save me?"

Dmitry didn't turn. "Ask me tomorrow."

"Will there be a tomorrow?"

This time he looked at her. Really looked. His eyes were the coldest thing in the room. "That depends on you."

A phone rang. Not Sofia's. Dmitry pulled a burner from his coat. Listened. Said nothing. Hung up.

"Your car is here," he said.

Sofia didn't move. "I have questions."

Dmitry walked to the door. Paused. "And I have bullets." He glanced back at her. "Be smarter than this, Sofia."

Then he was gone.

The safehouse creaked around her. The wind whistled through cracks in the walls. Somewhere in the building, a pipe burst. Water dripped like a ticking clock.

Sofia holstered her weapon. Her hands shook. Not from fear. From anger. From confusion. From something else she couldn't name.

Outside, a blue Lada waited. The engine running. The passenger seat empty.

She got in.

The radio played static. The heater blew cold. The city slept.

And the game went on…

The abandoned toy factory smelled of rotting plastic and forgotten childhoods. Sofia Ivanova stepped over a decapitated doll, its glassy eyes staring up at her with permanent surprise. The flashlight beam cut through dust-filled air, illuminating faded murals of smiling bears and broken conveyor belts.

A voice echoed from the shadows. "You're late. I was starting to think you'd died."

Leo Markov sat cross-legged on a pile of moldy stuffed animals, laptop balanced on his knees. The glow from the screen made his face look ghostly. He wore a t-shirt that read 'I Paused My Game To Be Here' in peeling letters.

Sofia kept her hand near her weapon. "You picked a creepy place to meet."

Leo shrugged. "What, you'd prefer a coffee shop? How original." He gestured to the decaying toys around them. "Besides, no bugs here. Unless you count the actual bugs." He lifted a stuffed rabbit to reveal a family of cockroaches underneath. "Meet Vladimir, Estragon, and their kids."

Sofia didn't laugh. "You said you had information."

Leo sighed dramatically. "No 'how are you Leo?' No 'nice shirt Leo?' Just straight to business." He closed his laptop with a snap. "You're worse than my ex-wife. And she once served me divorce papers during my birthday party."

The wind howled through broken windows. Somewhere in the factory, a loose metal sheet banged rhythmically like a slow handclap.

Sofia took a step forward. "The files."

Leo reached into his backpack and pulled out a greasy paper bag. "First, pirozhki. Can't save the world on an empty stomach." He took a huge bite, spraying crumbs. "Want one? They're technically stolen, but from a chain store, so it's basically civil disobedience."

Sofia didn't move.

Leo swallowed with difficulty. "Right. All business." He wiped his hands on his jeans and opened his laptop again. "So. You wanted to know about the Kuznetsovs." The screen illuminated rows of files. "Turns out, they're not just into murder and extortion. They also cheat on their taxes." He gasped. "The horror."

Sofia stepped closer to see the screen. "What am I looking at?"

"Financial records. Shell companies. Property holdings." Leo scrolled through pages of data. "Also, Dmitry's internet history, which is shockingly boring. Unless you're really into 19th century Russian poetry and how to remove bloodstains from silk."

A rat scurried past Sofia's foot. She didn't flinch. "Anything useful?"

Leo grinned. "Oh, just the location of three secret warehouses, the names of twelve corrupt officials on their payroll, and..." He tapped a key dramatically. "Aleksandr's secret vacation home in Sochi." The screen showed surveillance photos of a luxury villa. "Complete with panic room, because even monsters get scared sometimes."

Sofia studied the images. "This is good."

Leo snorted. "It's better than good. It's career-ending. Life-ending." His voice dropped. "Which is why you should be very careful with it."

The banging metal sheet suddenly stopped. The silence felt heavier.

Leo reached into his backpack again and pulled out a flash drive shaped like a tiny skull. "Everything's on here. Encrypted. Password is 'idiot' all lowercase, because that's what I am for doing this."

Sofia took the flash drive. It was warm from being in his pocket. "Why help me?"

Leo looked around at the decaying toys. "Maybe I believe in justice. Maybe I owe someone money. Maybe I just really hate how Aleksandr dresses." He adjusted his glasses. "Or maybe I'm setting you up. You'll never know."

A loud crash came from somewhere deeper in the factory. Both of them froze.

Leo exhaled slowly. "Probably just the wind. Or a very determined squirrel." He closed his laptop. "You should go. They're watching your apartment, your office, and that cute little bakery you like."

Sofia's hand went to her weapon. "How do you know about the bakery?"

Leo stood, brushing stuffing off his jeans. "Please. I know what you had for breakfast yesterday. I know Dmitry saved your life last night. I know you haven't slept more than four hours since this started." He tapped his temple. "Information is my business."

Another crash, closer this time.

Leo's smile faded. "Okay, that was definitely not a squirrel."

Sofia drew her gun. "Back door?"

Leo shook his head. "Sealed shut in 2003. But!" He reached into his backpack one last time and pulled out two gas masks. "I come prepared."

Sofia stared at them. "What the hell is that for?"

Leo handed her one. "Smoke bombs in the west corridor. Distraction. Also, they look cool." He adjusted his mask, making his voice muffled. "Like a sexy post-apocalyptic bee keeper."

The sound of footsteps echoed through the factory. Heavy boots on concrete.

Leo grabbed Sofia's arm. "Time for the dramatic escape scene."