Most’s car was parked behind a ruined factory four kilometers from the casino, but still within the range of the drone. Louis had resigned himself to metric measurements for Most’s sake. Confusion over distance was, he thought, best avoided, given what they planned to do.

‘Luca Bilbija doesn’t have a brother,’ said Louis.

‘Huh,’ said Most. ‘Boyfriend, maybe? I know he sleeps with girls, but I am not one to judge.’

‘More likely someone he trusts from home,’ said Louis. ‘He’s cooped up in that house, killing time until the Vuksans give him the all clear. He’s bored, but he’s also scared. He wants companionship, and an extra gun for reassurance.’

Louis began guiding the drone back to the car. He and Most had spent the afternoon practicing with the equipment until Louis was happy that he could handle it without difficulty.

‘You think he cleared Mirko’s arrival with the Vuksans?’ said Most.

‘I doubt it. They probably don’t even know he’s frequenting the same casino every night, and renting accommodations on-site. If the Vuksans find out, they’ll make him stop. Sloppiness may cost them their lives.’

‘He believes himself to be safe,’ said Most. ‘The Novákovi have a reputation to protect, and it would be lamentable if a guest were to die violently on their most upscale property.’

‘Has that ever happened?’ said Louis.

‘Not to my knowledge.’

‘Well, there’s a first time for everything.’

Most grunted.

‘Are you worried?’ said Louis.

‘I’ll only start worrying if we get caught,’ said Most, ‘and I would strongly advise against that. The Novákovi use the woodland as their personal cemetery. If we’re lucky, we’ll be dead before they put us in the ground, but lucky men wouldn’t get caught to begin with.’

The drone came into sight, and Louis brought it down to earth. It landed heavily, and Most flinched.

‘Please tell me you’ll be gentler tomorrow,’ he said.

‘If it’s any consolation,’ said Louis, ‘neither of us will know a great deal about it if I’m not.’

‘That,’ said Most, ‘is no consolation at all.’

Chapter LIII

Zorya and Zivco Ilić sat with the Vuksans, the drapes closed against the dark. On the table before them was a picture of the Dutchman, Hendricksen.

‘Could he be one of those who killed Aleksej in Paris?’ said Spiridon.

‘No,’ said Ilić. ‘I checked his hotel reservation. He was in Vienna when Aleksej died, but he may be working for the same people.’

‘Then why is he still breathing?’

‘The timing wasn’t right,’ said Zorya.

‘We didn’t know enough about him to act without caution,’ Ilić added, exchanging a look with Zorya. Under the present circumstances, it didn’t seem wise to tell the Vuksans that they had decided not to target Hendricksen because Zorya had experienced a premonition of danger.

Ilić noticed that Radovan appeared distracted.