Petrovich played with the radio controls, settling in on a faint signal from Burlington playing Tom Petty. He’d done the same thing driving out, preferring to listen to static instead of country music or, worse yet, Berg’s voice. He almost looked disaffected, like a sociopath, but Berg knew better. Petrovich’s gears were spinning at full speed trying to process the information gathered from Reznikov’s interrogation. Sanderson would want a full assessment, and he wasn’t the type to take this lightly. Lives would be at stake during the operation, the lives of people he had worked with and trained.“What do you think?” Berg asked.Petrovich surprised him by answering immediately. “I think you have a problem.”“How so?”“There’s something wrong with Reznikov,” Petrovich said.“That’s obvious.”“And you trust his information?”“Trust but verify. He has the most to lose from a failed operation. Is this what’s bothering you?” Berg asked.“No. The mission looks straightforward enough going in.
