Frend tried telling her, but without mentioning the Vuksans by name. He advised her of delicate negotiations, of men who might or might not have been watching his office, and others who were probably doing the same thing at his home. He spoke of sending his wife away to safety. He told Radka that he did not want anything to happen to her, but there were those who might attempt to use her to get to him. By the end of the conversation he was no closer to convincing her of the need to absent herself from the store, but she had at least agreed to exercise some caution, whatever that might mean.

Unbeknownst to Frend, Radka had then made a call of her own, this one to Zivco Ilić, informing him that forces unknown might be closing in on Anton Frend.

Now Frend was in Simmering in the cold, gray light of morning. A taxi had dropped him at the entrance to the complex of factories and silos. He had elected to walk the rest of the way to the cemetery, following the direction indicated by a sign on the road, because the fewer witnesses there were to his ultimate destination, the better. He asked the driver to wait for him, but the man refused because Frend could not confirm how long he would be. He could always call another taxi, the driver pointed out. If not, there was a bus stop by the entrance to the industrial area, so he had a couple of options. Frend wasn’t so sure about that – two buses an hour would be a generous estimate, and who knew how long a taxi might take to arrive? – but he had little choice in the matter. In better circumstances, he would have driven himself, but his car was parked in a private garage by his office; if he was right, and his business premises were under surveillance, then his vehicle also might be.

He passed no one as he walked. The buildings were deserted, this being Sunday. Flocks of small birds rose above the silos before settling again, the pattern repeating itself three times. He could see no cause for the birds to be alarmed, but perhaps they sensed the presence of predators; that, or the fear of predation was now so ingrained that they were reluctant to stay in one place for too long. In either case, the metaphor was not lost on Frend.

He descended a short flight of steps that brought him under a railway line and within sight of the cemetery. A woman was standing among the graves, smoking a cigarette. She was entirely alone, apart from the dead. She looked up as Frend approached the little chapel, but did not acknowledge him, even as Frend descended to join her and the namenlos.