Jim nodded and, once he was near enough, he dropped onto the roof, catching himself with a practiced grace. "I'll probably be speaking to them in Russian unless they don't understand it. Keep listening. You'll know when to come in."

His only regret was that he didn't have a silencer. But once he'd spoken, he opened the skylight, dropped himself mostly through, then closed it behind him. He had enough time to choose a place at the kitchen table to seat himself, leaving the lighting as it was. He placed one of his handguns on the table's surface, casually in sight. The message would be plain.