‘I made some inquiries. All of the dead ones used dealers who get their supplies from our chain. There’s going to be heat on this.’

‘We’ve had heat before,’ Tadeusz said mildly. ‘What makes this so special?’

Krasic made an impatient noise. ‘Because it didn’t come in the usual way. Remember? You handed it over to Kamal yourself.’

Tadeusz frowned. The hollow feeling in his stomach had returned. He recalled the bad feeling he’d had about this deal, the unease that had stolen up on him in the Danube boatyard. He’d tried to avoid the fates by changing the routine, but it seemed that the measures he’d taken to sidestep trouble had simply brought it to his door by a more direct route. ‘Kamal’s a long way from the street dealers,’ he pointed out.

‘Maybe not far enough,’ Krasic growled. There have always been cut-outs between you and Kamal before. He’s never been able to say, “Tadeusz Radecki personally supplied me with this heroin,” before. We don’t know how much the cops know. They might be just a step or two away from him. And if he’s looking at a deal that will save him too much hard time, he might just think about giving you up.’

Now Tadeusz was really paying attention, his languid disinterest a distant memory. ‘I thought Kamal was solid.’

‘Nobody’s solid if the price is right.’

Tadeusz turned in his seat and fixed Krasic with his sharp blue eyes. ‘Not even you, Darko?’

‘Tadzio, I’m solid because nobody can afford my price,’ Krasic said, clamping a beefy hand on his boss’s knee.

‘So, what are you saying?’ Tadeusz moved his leg away from Krasic, unconsciously making physical the distance he knew existed between them.

Krasic shifted in his seat, turning to stare out of the window past Tadeusz. ‘We could afford to lose Kamal.’