Also, Radovan was an Austrophile who loved the writings of Stefan Zweig and the motets of Anton Bruckner. He had never killed or raped anyone, and appeared to find the savagery that was engulfing the former Yugoslavia deeply unpleasant. Frend, meanwhile, was sufficiently versed in twentieth-century European history to accept that the violence was a consequence of old enmities, held in check by the force of will of the dictator Josip Broz Tito before once again being exposed to the light following his demise in 1980. Frend nodded sympathetically when Radovan opined that it would be best if the struggle played itself out as quickly as possible, resulting in the redrawing of boundaries so that nationalities and religions were separated by clear, internationally recognized borders. This, said Radovan, could most efficiently be achieved by a resounding Serb victory, and Frend saw no reason to demur.

But when the Vuksans joined forces with the Zemuns, Frend was confronted with a clearer moral choice. Previously, he had been complicit in the dispersal and investment of cash illegally acquired from an internationally reviled regime, although the funds themselves were technically clean. Now he would be working with money that came from smuggling, narcotics, prostitution, people trafficking, kidnapping, and contract killings. A closer examination of his conscience might therefore be required.

Except Frend did not have a conscience, which made the whole process significantly easier for him. (In Frend’s opinion, a conscience was a poor companion for a lawyer, one that always took but never gave.) But just in case, by some miracle, a conscience began to assert itself, he had made it clear to the Vuksans – or more correctly, to Radovan – that he preferred to dwell in blissful ignorance of the more ‘colorful’ details of their operations, except on those rare occasions when Spiridon chose to join them for dinner and Frend permitted himself the indulgence of vicarious sadism by listening to the latter’s tales.

Frend’s distancing also served a practical purpose: the less he knew, the less he would have to hide from the authorities in the event of any unfortunate investigation into his links with the Vuksans; and the less he had to hide, the less reason the Vuksans would have to kill him in order to ensure his silence. By his knowledge and competence, he had made them all wealthier than they might otherwise have been, but no one was indispensable, and the prospect of dying behind bars made pragmatists of even the most cultured of men.