Petrovitch’s finger rested lightly on the keyboard. “Listen to me,” he said, “I’ve had enough. I’ve had enough of all this nonsense, of the whole shot-at, stabbed, bugged, threatened, hacked business. I don’t particularly care what you do in your peesku-shaped tower. It doesn’t bother me which psychopath is in control of whose private army. I’m not even—though it shames me to say so—going to lose much sleep over what happens to Sonja Oshicora. I’ve already decided to disappear: I won’t trouble you again. You need to call off your cyber attacks, though. You’re actually hurting people who aren’t me.”

“Sumimasen, Petrovitch-san,” said Hijo. “You are a loose thread. We have to be tidy.”

Petrovitch put his glasses back on his face and pushed them up with an extended finger. “Yeah. I’m offering you an honorable draw; you do your thing, I’ll do mine. No tidying required.”

“I must speak plainly,” said Hijo. “It has been decided you must die. It is regretful, but necessary.”

The injustice of it flushed his cheeks and filled his belly with fire. He was full to the brim with fury. Something snapped inside, and he suddenly found himself saying: “I am the one who decides when I’m going to die, you little shit. You want this done the hard way? Fine. I will take you down. I will cause you so much grief and pain that you’ll wish you’d never been born. And you can tell Sonja this: I’m coming. One way or another, I’ll save her. Have you got that?”

Hijo started to laugh again. “You? You?” He couldn’t manage anything else, he’d become so incapable of speech.

“I’m glad you find it funny,” said Petrovitch. “Zhopu porvu margala vikoliu.” He stabbed down with his finger. Hijo had gone from the inside of the domik. But not from inside his head.

He dialed again.

“Chain,” said Chain.

“It’s Petrovitch. I’ve something to show you. Meet me outside the south entrance to Regent’s Park in half an hour.”

“Very nice to hear from you again, Petrovitch. As much as I like you, I can’t drop everything just because you call.”

“It’s about the Oshicoras.”

“Half an hour, you say?”

“Yeah. Thought that might get your interest. I’m not walking, so bring your car. And body armor and a kalash. Better still, bring two sets. We’re going to need them.”

“We? What is this, Petrovitch? You planning on starting a war?”

“For a dubiina, you catch on quick. Be on time.”

16

An old, stooped woman, head wrapped in a blanket, knocked on the side of Chain’s car. Chain raised his eyebrows and waved her away. Her tapping became more insistent.

“It’s me, you blind old kozel. Open up.” Petrovitch moved the blanket aside far enough to reveal his ice-blue eyes.