The lie came easily to Frend, as all lies did, but he would have need of more money soon. Kauffmann had been right after all, for Frend’s time in Vienna was drawing to a close. Soon he might well have cause to seek her services for himself, and it would be for him to choose a sanctuary in which to live out the rest of his days.

‘Zivco will bring the money,’ said Radovan. ‘I’d also like him to be in attendance for the handover.’

This was a complication Frend would have preferred to avoid. With Zivco Ilić present, Frend’s deceit might be revealed. His intention had been to collect the cash from Ilić, skim the excess, and deliver the rest to Kauffmann as agreed. He couldn’t very well do that with Ilić hovering over him.

‘Why?’ said Frend.

‘While you may be a very good lawyer,’ said Radovan, ‘your experience as a cash-in-transit security guard is limited. This money was difficult to amass, as you’re surely aware, and will be impossible to replace should it be lost or stolen. Plus, Zivco can do the lifting. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen one million euros in fifties, but it equates to almost twenty kilos in a twenty-liter bag.’

Frend couldn’t row back now. He would have to call Kauffmann and inform her that she would be receiving more money than anticipated, some of which was his. If he was lucky, she might only impose a handling charge, or perhaps she might be convinced to take it in lieu of a fee for securing one further passport at a small discount.

‘Does this mean you’ve convinced your brother to leave?’

‘Spiridon’s future does not lie in Europe,’ said Radovan.

‘That’s all very well to say.’

‘Soon,’ said Radovan, ‘he’ll understand.’

Frend poured himself a drink from the minibar before making a call of his own. He was forced to leave a message, as always, but he made it clear that he wasn’t prepared to wait long for a reply or there would be repercussions. His phone rang just as he was making a second drink.

‘I’m not sure that I liked your tone,’ said Teodora Ćirić.