‘I’m almost done,’ said Spiridon. ‘De Jaager’s history lesson is nearing its end. When the Shiptars’ – Spiridon, like many of his generation, always used the derogatory Serbian term when talking of Albanians – ‘attacked the Serbian Orthodox monastery at Devič in 2004, Andrej requested permission to go back to the region to punish those responsible. I refused. Had he gone, I doubt he would ever have returned. He would have signed up to hunt the guerillas of the Kosovo Liberation Army. But I needed him: He was my gauntlet, my mace, so I allowed him instead to gorge himself on the Albanians who had settled here in the Netherlands. It was, in retrospect, a mistake. I believe he tipped over into madness, and proved increasingly difficult to control in the aftermath. The killing of your brother-in-law, Jos, was an unfortunate consequence. That, in turn, led to Andrej’s murder on your orders, which is why you and I have come to this pass. On one level, I bear responsibility for what occurred. I thought I could tame Andrej, but I was mistaken.’

Spiridon leaned forward.

‘I genuinely do not understand why you stopped at Andrej,’ he said. ‘It was foolish of you. He was only the instrument of another’s will. You might as well have taken out your anger on the hammer used to punch the nails through Jos’s wrists and ankles, or the nails themselves. Were the positions reversed, I would have come for you.’

‘But we are not alike,’ said De Jaager.

‘And perhaps you did not want a war, one that you could not hope to win?’

‘Perhaps.’

‘Yet the end result is the same,’ said Spiridon. ‘Your destruction, and the annihilation of all you hold dear.’

Spiridon produced a gun from his belt. He flipped the safety catch, positioned the muzzle under De Jaager’s chin, and forced him to place a finger on the trigger.

‘Not everything they say about me is true,’ said Spiridon. ‘I am capable of mercy, and I have always respected you. I don’t want you to suffer, so I will settle for your life – as long as you are the one to take it. I want you to die a suicide. There is one bullet in the chamber. Apply the necessary pressure to the trigger, and this will all be over. If you don’t, I guarantee that your passing from this world will be more painful than you could ever have imagined.’

De Jaager heard a noise from above. It sounded like a woman whimpering. Now he knew where at least one of them was being held.

‘Who is up there?’ he asked.

It was Radovan who answered.

‘The old woman, Anouk, and a younger girl, Liesl.’

‘What will happen to them?’

‘Pull the trigger,’ said Spiridon.

De Jaager’s eyes moved frantically between the two brothers.

‘Please,’ he said. ‘Let them go. They have nothing to do with this.’