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Ion walked away, his legs feeling like lead. He didn't go to the trash bin. He went to the staff toilet. He locked the door and unfolded the newspaper. Inside was a passport—Romanian. And a stack of cash. Euros, pounds, dollars. It wasn't a drop-off; it was a payment.
He looked at the passport. The photo was of a young woman, dark hair, terrified eyes. Elena Popescu. Born: Dej. program cazier dej
