‘Of oxygen. You should review your recruitment policy. I perceive flaws in your criteria.’

Radovan didn’t rush to disagree, a fact that Ilić could not fail to notice. As far as Radovan was concerned, Ilić was his brother’s acolyte, so it was for Spiridon to defend him, should he be bothered to do so. If nothing else, Radovan thought, De Jaager was a good judge of character.

‘Are you worried about your women?’ said Radovan.

De Jaager had not asked after them, just in case Anouk and Liesl had been absent when the Vuksans arrived at the safe house. Now, with his worst fears confirmed, his eyes briefly fluttered closed.

‘Yes,’ he said.

‘They’re being looked after,’ said Radovan.

‘Don’t hurt them,’ said De Jaager.

Radovan Vuksan shrugged. ‘That’s out of my hands. Spiridon will decide what’s to be done with them once he gets here.’

‘I have money.’

‘I know,’ said Radovan. ‘So do we. So do lots of people.’

‘One can always have more,’ said De Jaager.

‘This isn’t about money. This is about blood.’

‘Really?’ said De Jaager. ‘I thought you’d be sick of it by now.’

‘I am,’ said Radovan. ‘Others, not so much.’

Flies buzzed around the body of Paulus. Ilić emptied the remainder of the champagne over Paulus’s head, dispersing some of the insects, even drowning one or two before the rest returned with a vengeance. From the street outside came the sound of a woman’s laughter. A van pulled up. A door opened and closed. De Jaager heard footsteps coming down the stairs, and a figure passed behind Radovan to admit the new arrival.

‘Now,’ said Radovan, ‘we can begin.’

Chapter IV

Angel was still removing his jacket when Mrs Bondarchuk opened the door of her apartment to peer at him. In her left arm she held one of the Pomeranians – Angel had no idea which one, since they all looked the same to him – while the head of a second manifested itself from somewhere around the level of her ankles.

‘How far did you walk today?’ said Mrs Bondarchuk.

‘To Fifty-sixth and back,’ said Angel.

‘That’s too far.’

‘I walked to Sixtieth yesterday and you told me it wasn’t far enough.’

‘It wasn’t, but Fifty-sixth is too far for today,’ said Mrs Bondarchuk. ‘You should have stopped at Fifty-eighth.’

The Pomeranian crouching in the crook of her arm yapped its agreement. Everyone, it seemed to Angel, was an expert on his health except him. The only consolation was that the chemo was over. He’d endured four cycles of it and now just had to accommodate himself to being monitored for the rest of his life, an endless pattern of worrying, testing, and relief – if he remained clear – before the worrying commenced again.