“All right.” Panin sips at his wine. “Excuse me, but – there is a personal connection?” “What?” “You appear unduly upset... ” “Yes.” She looks at her hands. “The missing officer is my husband.” Panin puts his glass down and leans back, very slowly, with the extreme self-control of a man who has just realized he is sharing a table with a large, ticking bomb. “Is there anything I can do to help?” “Yes.”
