“Intermediary?”

“Yes. In our office.”

“You’re certain?”

“Yes. Piet Hoffmann knows who we are and wanted us to know that. We have to step back. Our company can’t be involved anymore.”

He sometimes had difficulty hearing the voice on the other end. Someone was deliberately speaking quietly.

“What you just said?”

“Just now?”

“About Piet Hoffmann knowing who you are and wanting you to know that, that . . .”

But the microphone and interpreter heard and translated.

“Yes?”

“Hang up.”

“What?”

“That’s exactly what he . . . Hang up, for fuck’s sake! He wanted you to call me!”

Piet Hoffmann took out his earpiece as soon as the call was disconnected. The Albanian-speaking voice was right. That was exactly what he wanted.

Now there was only one way.

It’s either you or me, and I choose me.

He stepped out into the empty street and walked toward the door he exited less than an hour ago. This time, he didn’t plan on warning them he was coming. He tore away the tape he left on the lock and hurried up five flights of stairs. Checked his mask, adjusted his holsters. And rang the doorbell.

It didn’t take them long to open.

“You . . . ?”

“I had a question about the price. Do you have time?”

The other security guard stood a few steps farther down the hall. The way they looked at him. They thought they knew something he didn’t.

“Of course.”

But they didn’t know he knew they knew.

“We have time. Come in.”

The security guard that Piet Hoffmann had heard speaking Albanian invited him inside in perfect Swedish, and couldn’t quite stop a small smile from stretching over his tense lips. He thought he was looking at an idiot who had voluntarily rung the doorbell and asked to come inside to his own execution.

“Sit down. We’ll figure this out.”

Those eyes. The look the Swedish Albanians passed between them. Get ready. I’ll take him from the left, you take him from the right. Hoffmann understood the glance they exchanged. There was always a particular feeling in being surrounded by professionals who’d attacked together before and would do so again very soon.

“I don’t need to sit. Just have a few simple questions.”

“You have questions?”

“Yes.”

At that point the man who was in charge transformed. The aggressiveness that had been lurking behind those cautious eyes came rushing forward, game time was over.

“I think you misunderstood something. You are gonna give us some answers. Here’s my first easy question: Why did Piet Hoffmann send you?”

“Piet Hoffmann?”

“You heard me.”

“Who is that?”

His eyes. Their eyes. They were close now. About to attack.

“The man who sent you.”

The security guard reached over to make sure the blinds were turned down. While his colleague checked that the front door was locked. Then they both stretched. Made themselves bigger. On either side of Piet Hoffmann.