Chapters (27)
- Cover
- About the Book
- About the Author
- Also by Craig Russell
- Title Page
- For Holger and Lotte
- Acknowledgements
- Epigraph
- Prologue
- Part One
- CLOWN DIARY FIRST ENTRY. DATED: 11.11 A.M. 11th NOVEMBER.
- CHAPTER ONE
- CLOWN DIARY SECOND ENTRY. UNDATED.
- CHAPTER TWO
- CHAPTER THREE
- CHAPTER FOUR
- CHAPTER FIVE
- Part Two
- CLOWN DIARY, FIFTEENTH ENTRY. UNDATED.
- CHAPTER SIX
- CHAPTER SEVEN
- CHAPTER EIGHT
- CHAPTER NINE
- CHAPTER TEN
- CHAPTER ELEVEN
- CHAPTER TWELVE
- Epilogue
‘I’m not interested in him. It’s his bosses I’m after. He won’t even know I’m onto him.’
‘All I know is his name Viktor. I don’t know last name.’
‘When do you see him? How often?’
‘Friday is when we get paid. Most of us work until late Friday nights and sleep on Saturday because we work again Saturday nights. Viktor comes to collect money Saturday and Sunday. Around lunchtime. Some people working Saturday lunchtime so he makes second call Sunday.’ Slavko shook his head despondently. ‘He leave us nothing. Says we have to pay back all expenses in getting us here. Viktor bad man. Everybody frightened of Viktor.’
‘Do you think Viktor is an ex-soldier, like the other man?’
‘He don’t look like soldier to me. Gangster. One day one of the men in the apartment say it not right Viktor take everything. Viktor hit him with heavy piece of wood. Beat him bad. Next day the man gone. Viktor say he send him back to Ukraine and keep his money.’ The memory of the event seemed to disturb Slavko further; he stole another glance back at the door the African had left wider open. ‘I go now. I don’t know nothing else.’
‘The address …’ Maria ordered. ‘Give me the address of your apartment.’ Seeing Slavko’s alarm she held her hands up in a placatory gesture. ‘Don’t worry, no one will know anything. I’m not going to visit your apartment or send other police or the immigration people. I just want to see what Viktor looks like. That’s all. You’ve got to trust me, Slavko.’
Again Slavko hesitated, then gave Maria an address in the Chorweiler part of the city. She tried to remember where it was from the maps of Cologne she had sought to memorise.
Slavko went back into the kitchen. Two other Slavic types looked up from their work and eyed Maria suspiciously through the open door. As she walked away, Maria could still see the fear in Slavko’s eyes; his timidity and his hungry gaunt look. Most of all she thought about how she had given him assurances; how she had told him to trust her. Just like she had told Nadja, the young prostitute in Hamburg, to trust her. Just before Nadja disappeared.