She devotes two hours each day to flirting with a man she hates, hoping it will hasten his demise. In return, he sends his musings on women’s underwear, videos of him interrogating her captured countrymen and pictures of their corpses.
Occasionally though, Angelina — not her real name — receives something more useful. A photo of a military passport, revealing clues about a unit. A video of an amorous soldier driving and singing, giving away his location. Or shocked appeals for sympathy after the death of a comrade, demonstrating an accurate Ukrainian strike.
