‘As for my father,’ he said. ‘The memory from my childhood is a smell – a Soviet aftershave, which I think was called Tachanka.’ He smiled. ‘And you, Diane?’

‘Me?’

‘You say you don’t belong in this rural area?’

‘No, I’m from the Black Country. That’s near the city of Birmingham. An urban area, with a lot of people. Over a million.’

‘I see.’ He took a drink of wine. ‘And what of your parents?’

‘My parents?’ said Fry. ‘Like you, I remember almost nothing of them.’

‘Nothing?’

‘Almost nothing.’

Kotsev waited patiently, but realized she wasn’t going to say any more. When the waiter returned, they ate quietly for a few moments. Fry supposed she ought to ask him what he thought of the food. But food didn’t interest her much as a topic of conversation.

‘What exactly is your role in Pleven now, Georgi?’

‘Oh, you wish to talk business?’ he said.

‘I’d like to know how the Zhivko brothers might fit in to our present enquiry. Can you fill me in on some background?’

‘Ah, the Zhivkos – our dear friends Anton and Lazar. They were previously suspected of being engaged in a great number of criminal activities in my own country.’

‘Yes?’

Kotsev’s smile became quizzical as he hesitated under her expectant gaze.

‘There are many issues involved, Diane.’

‘Tell me some of them, at least.’

He nodded. ‘Well, as I mentioned, I’ve been working in co-operation with our colleagues at Europol for some time. Bulgaria is not a member of the European Union yet, you understand, but we co-operate nevertheless. We value their expertise in organized crime. A lot of events have been happening in my country, because of the EU.’

‘What sort of things?’

‘Our government has been given conditions to meet before we will be allowed to join the EU. “Clean up your act,” they say. One of the things the EU does not like is our organized crime, our Mafia.’

‘Is organized crime such a big problem in Bulgaria?’

‘A big problem?’ Kotsev laughed. ‘You might say that. There are certain people who have become very rich running crime in my country. They grow so rich that they buy football clubs, or casinos in Sunny Beach. They rule their kingdoms by violence – punishment beatings, shootings. These are very ruthless men, and very powerful. The mutras, we call them. Clever and cruel killers.’

‘Mutras?’

‘In Bulgarian, mutra means “ugly face”. If you saw these people, you would understand. Many of them were out-of-work body builders or wrestlers who had to look for alternative employment. So they learned to shoot guns and joined forces with shady businessmen to exploit Bulgaria after the Change. You know what I mean by the Change? The events of 1989?’

‘Oh, the end of Communism.’