Chapter 21 The Deal With Dorian

• The table between them was covered in laminated overlays of terrain scans, atmospheric surveillance, decoy routes. One central map flickered under Dorian’s portable light: a no-man’s land between Finland and Russia, a long-decommissioned weather station circled in fading red ink.
• “This is where she wants us,” he said.
• Isolde didn’t sit. She leaned over the table, palms flat, eyes scanning every line of cold land and white wilderness.