The Russian in the backseat with her had used a penknife to pry off the protective case on Cassy’s phone, then the rear cover. He took out the SIM card and battery, both of which he tossed out the window.
“Letat”—fly—he told the driver, who immediately pulled away from the curb and merged with traffic.
“Do we need the kid who was with her?”
“Da. He went around the corner on Maiden Lane.”
Panov glanced in the rearview mirror then suddenly made a left at the next side street, angry drivers honking their horns.
Cassy was thrown against Anosov. She reared back and slammed her fist into his cheek. He hit her with his fist on the side of her head, and she momentarily fuzzed out.
“Suka!” Bitch!
Panov laughed. “Do you need some help back there?”
“Drive!”