File No.15

Artyom clicked on the folder labeled “15”.

With a faint mechanical click, a scanned photograph appeared at the center of the screen. The scan quality was poor, its surface veiled beneath a layer of fine digital noise.

The girl in the photograph was thin and disheveled, her dark hair hanging in tangled strands around her face. Hooking a finger beneath her lower eyelid, she pulled the bruised skin into view without the slightest trace of embarrassment—as though displaying a trophy she had earned.

No additional information accompanied the file.

Yet Artyom recognized her immediately.