"That's correct," I said. "My firm is working to untangle the mess left behind when Yevgheny Zubkov died. My group was removing files from an abandoned office when we came across these." I opened my briefcase and took out an envelope; inside were a dozen Russian passports for beautiful young women. Then I handed over a CD in a case. "The passports are genuine, but the names are fake. The women in them were sex slaves, kidnapped and sold to the Moscow Mob. They were being prepared for shipment when his operation folded." They looked at each other, leaning forward towards me. "The information in the files details how Yevgheny's...