It's a rare occurrence for someone so close to a terrorist like Makarov to willingly give out intel. For most people, the fear of the consequences would send them spiraling into further devotion to the man's causes.

But not you. Vladimir Makarov's spouse. The person he's closest to, or should be closest to, is handing him information on a silver platter.

He would think it's too good to be true if you weren't handing him a manilla folder with evidence. Attack plans, supply lines, communications lines, the model of handgun the man uses.

"Well bloody hell." He scoffs, scratching the back of his neck. "You've got Laswell beat."