‘Avro Lascile is not concerned about Mordach Terashova. He and Udmil are quite secure from possible reprisals, I can assure you. In fact, the situation has already been made clear to Mordach, and in such a way that no room for doubt remained over Udmil’s preferences and status.’

‘How did he take it?’

‘I was not present when the news was delivered.’

‘That badly, eh?’

‘I really don’t know, and I very much don’t care.’

‘So will the new conglomerate be taking on all the old Terashova businesses?’

‘Only the ones that interest my clients.’

‘Can you tell me any more about those?’

‘No. And I think that brings this meeting to a close. Do I have your assurance that you will drop your enquiries?’

Zidarov smiled bleakly. ‘You’ve made a very convincing case.’

‘Good. So, it was a pleasure to meet you, probator. Please do stay safe out there.’

‘Oh, I intend to.’

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-One

He didn’t respond well to threats. Never had. His first instinct, on being released, was to go straight to the Bastion armoury, grab what he needed, head up to the warehouse and start the fires burning. Then he’d do the same to Jazc. And then, if he was still alive, to Terashova. He found himself ­sweating and jittery, mostly from anger. He could use that. The adrenal­ine would keep him going just long enough. He hadn’t ­forgotten everything Berjer had taught him, and could still use a weapon.

But nothing had changed, not really. He wouldn’t get far before they gunned him down. Vermida was right – Lascile had the ­Bastion in his pocket, and so it wouldn’t just be cartel operatives aiming at him, but sanctioners too. And if they knew his name, then they knew where he lived. It would all be over, bloodily, very soon. Brecht’s advice was still sound. He had to walk away.

It made him furious. Once back in the Luxer he’d slammed his fists into the control column. Then he’d rested his forehead against the console, as if he could bury himself inside it. As the rain drummed on the cab-roof, he felt like he could stay there forever, gradually dissolving, eroding and dissipating until he was nothing but another stain on the sodden asphalt.

What made him move again, in the end, was the thing he’d meant to be doing all along – looking for Alessinaxa. Throughout it all, he’d tried to remain calm. Whenever he’d reassured Milija, he’d been telling her what he really thought – that she’d be home soon, that this was just her punishing them for the Guard thing. But now it was getting worrying. Speaking to Vermida had shaken him up, reminded him just what kind of people plied their trade in the city.