“Chain told you to. He’s using you as much as Oshicora is. All I am is a kid who knows a lot about maths and physics. How the chyort did anyone think I could help?” Petrovitch finished his coffee standing.

Sorenson kicked his own chair away in frustration.

“Hey,” shouted Wong. “You stop that now.”

Petrovitch bent down and picked the chair up. “He’s leaving. So am I.”

Wong threw Sorenson’s credit chip toward them. Petrovitch snatched at it and missed. Sorenson’s catch was more certain.

“Come on, before you get me barred.” Petrovitch squeezed out onto the busy street, and Sorenson joined him, shivering slightly in the damp morning air. Despite the American’s size, he looked small and pathetic at that moment. “Go back to your hotel. Get a shower, change your clothes. Then go to work. Go, Sorenson, just go.”

A black car with darkened windows pulled up by the curb; a door opened but no one emerged. Immediately Petrovitch was looking for a way out, but it was too late.

“Comrade Marchenkho would like a word.” The man had stepped from behind him and pressed something hard into his back, pushing him toward the open door.

Sorenson looked ready for a fight. Petrovitch put a hand out and covered his fist, then gave a little sigh.

“Stop stroking your yielda,” he told the gunman. “You’re not going to use it on me. Unless you want a half-a-million-euro contract on you.”

“That might be true.” The object left his skin and Petrovitch saw Sorenson pale. “But your friend, on the other hand, has no such protection. Get in the car.”

Petrovitch looked up at the gray sky and gave a small strangled cry.

11

The inside of the car smelled of stale vodka and sweat, and Petrovitch immediately thought of home. The Ukrainian gunman sat next to Sorenson, automatic jammed against his ribs.

“You know, it doesn’t get much better than this,” said Petrovitch.

“Shut up, Petrovitch,” said Sorenson.

“Yeah, well. Hey, Yuri.”

The Ukrainian leaned forward. “It’s Grigori.”

“To be fair, I’m not that bothered what you’re called. Marchenkho’s chancing his arm, and by extension, yours. Feel free to let us out any time.”

“Your American friend has got the right idea; shut up.”

“Why don’t you bite me, zhirniy pidaras?”

The foot soldier stiffened, and Sorenson winced as the barrel of the gun drove deeper.

“Well, excuse my mouth.” Petrovitch put his feet up against the back of the front seat. “It doesn’t give me much confidence in your boss if his underlings lose it when I’ve called them a rude name.”

“Petrovitch…”

He dismissed Marchenkho’s whole gang with a gesture. “Yeah, I’m done talking to the monkeys. Get me the organ grinder.”