At Paris-Charles-de-Gaulle, two slight figures passed through immigration with hand baggage only, attracting barely a second glance from the staff. Both men wore glasses, had neatly trimmed black hair, and spoke heavily accented English. They carried US and Japanese passports, but were traveling on the former to avoid any questions about their arrival from a US airport. They smiled a lot, because they had learned that Western people held preconceptions about Asians, both positive and negative, which could be used to gain an advantage. Over the years, they had carefully cultivated an image that traded on harmlessness, politeness, and conviviality, even though they had once killed a man by adding sodium cyanide to the chlorine-dosing system of his indoor swimming pool. This had been carried out at the instigation of Louis. The two men always enjoyed assisting Louis. He paid up front, and had been known to present them with intellectually stimulating challenges. Through him, they got to encounter new and interesting people, and find new and interesting ways to kill them.

Chapter XXXV

Zorya sat in a deep armchair before Spiridon Vuksan, her feet not quite touching the floor. Behind her, Radovan leaned against the window frame and thought that, in her stillness and the oddness of her mien, Zorya resembled a malformed mannequin. She glanced at him, as though picking up on his thoughts, but he did not look away. Zorya didn’t need to be a mind reader to know how he felt about her. She held too many secrets for Radovan’s comfort.

‘You say you saw a girl?’ said Spiridon.

‘A dead girl,’ Zorya corrected him.

‘What is she to us?’

‘I don’t know, but she is connected somehow. She would not have sensed my presence otherwise.’

‘Connected?’

‘To the hunters.’

Spiridon switched his attention to his brother, who shrugged.

‘We’ve heard nothing from Belgrade,’ said Radovan.

An uneasy and temporary limboid state of being existed between the Vuksans and the new emerging criminal order in their home country. The delineations of that order remained unclear, but from his contacts in Serbia – or those still willing to accept his calls – Radovan had learned that the voice of Matija Kiš was currently speaking loudest and most persuasively. This did not entirely surprise Radovan: Kiš was a figure of respect in the nebulous structures of the Serbian mafia, not only because of his cleverness and careful use of violence but also thanks to his extensive political connections. These included senior members and associates of the ruling Serbian Progressive Party, among them a cadre involved in consolidating influence and investment in the country’s infrastructure in advance of Serbia’s anticipated entry into the European Union. They, in turn, were backed by Russian money, which meant Putin.