Exclusive excerpt from Fracture THE STILETTO CONVERSATION Ankara. Surveillance van outside Mikhail’s apartment. Evening. Jack adjusted the lens for the hundredth time. Jones was sorting sunflower seeds by some private system known only to God and possibly his therapist. “Stilettos,” Jones said. “We’re not doing this.” “We’re absolutely doing this. We’ve been here four hours. I’ve counted the bricks on that building. There are 2,847. I’ve earned a conversation.” “You counted wrong. There are 2,846.” “You counted them too?” “Shut up.” Jack refused to look at him. “What about stilettos?”