‘Now say hello to Valeri Molokov. Russian. Forty-seven years old. Ex-cop. Former member of the Russian OMON special police Spetsnaz. Turned the people he was supposed to be hunting down into business associates. For a while he was considered to be a highly effective OMON operative, because one way or another he was taking down so many of Russia’s key targets in organised crime. Turned out he had been steadily eliminating his competitors, or carrying out contract killings for other crime bosses with whom he cooperated. It soon became known that if you wanted someone taken out nice and cleanly, then Molokov was your man. Despite having served with OMON and their history in Chechnya, Molokov is known to have very strong links with the Obshchina Chechen mafia. Wanted in Russia for smuggling, drug-trafficking, seven counts of murder, eight counts of conspiracy to murder, rape and false imprisonment.’

‘Any traffic convictions?’ asked Stoyan with his handsome Tatar grin. Everyone laughed, including Buslenko. A little laughter in the face of enemies like these couldn’t do any harm.

‘Molokov is the only member of Vitrenko’s senior management we’ve been able to identify. He has his own team within the organisation and that’s Vitrenko’s first and only weakness: Molokov’s security isn’t a patch on Vitrenko’s. It was a hasty marriage of convenience … Basically Molokov was made an offer he couldn’t refuse by Vitrenko. Molokov’s activities were encroaching on Vitrenko’s, so Vitrenko intercepted several consignments of Molokov’s and set fire to the container lorries.’

‘What was the cargo?’ asked Olga Sarapenko.

‘It was a people-smuggling operation …’

‘Fuck,’ said Belotserkovsky. ‘That was Vitrenko? The thing on the Polish border?’

‘I thought it was an accident,’ said Olga.

‘That was the version put out for the media,’ said Buslenko. ‘A few kilometres further on and it would have been the Polish police investigating and the whole thing would have come out. It was kept quiet to buy us time to track Vitrenko.’

‘So Molokov got the message?’ asked Belotserkovsky

‘He handed control over to Vitrenko – grudgingly – but was left in charge of the people-smuggling operation. The main difference is that he has no competition any more. He works for Vitrenko and if any smaller-scale operation starts up, Vitrenko ends it.’

‘So why is this a black mission?’ asked Stoyan. ‘Ukrainian criminals, Ukrainian police and security. Ukrainian victims.’

‘It’s a black operation for two reasons. Firstly, our mission is to intercept Vitrenko with maximum prejudice. We’re not coming back with a prisoner. The second reason is, as I said at the start, that we are operating outside Ukraine.’

‘Specifically?’ asked Olga.

‘Specifically the Federal Republic of Germany.’

There was an outburst of expletives. ‘Germany?’ said Belotserkovsky. ‘I’ve never been to Germany. My grandfather went there, though. Nineteen forty-four … with the Red Army. I think I may have German cousins.’

More laughter to defuse the tension.