Page 88 of The Nameless Ones
‘Nevertheless,’ said Radovan.
‘Well?’
‘Some of our accounts have been frozen, probably as a prelude to a larger sequestration of physical assets back home: businesses, property. We can’t leave without the resources required to pay our way, and we cannot subsist on fresh air once we reach our final destination. We need that money.’
‘You’re not seriously trying to tell me that you don’t have funds hidden away,’ said Ciric. ‘That would be unlike you.’
‘I have some, but not enough to satisfy Spiridon.’
Ciric considered the request.
‘You’ve caused a lot of bother,’ she said. ‘Some form of restitution is to be expected.’
‘How much?’
‘Fifty percent.’
‘That’s unacceptable.’
‘You’re not in a position to negotiate.’
In truth, it was a less savage cut than Radovan had feared, but he still pantomimed unhappiness before agreeing.
‘As you say,’ he conceded, ‘I am not in a position to negotiate.’
‘Good,’ said Ciric. ‘So now you can both vanish, and I hope this will be the last time we ever meet.’
‘What else would we have to say to each other?’
‘Nothing.’ Ciric began rebuttoning her coat, which she had not removed. ‘But this solves only one of your problems. From what I hear, Kiš and Stajic are not the only ones baying for your blood.’
‘All hunters tire in the end,’ said Radovan, ‘which means they either give up or become vulnerable to their prey.’
‘I admire your optimism. I give you a year, maybe less.’
‘Then in a year I shall send you a postcard, just to prove you wrong.’
‘I look forward to receiving it,’ said Ciric, ‘should it ever materialize.’
‘And how long do you give Simo Stajic?’ Radovan asked.
Ciric shrugged. ‘As you say, he’s reckless. Men like him drive too fast, drink too much, sleep with the wrong women, take the wrong drugs. Their days are always numbered. Perhaps even you may live long enough to read his obituary. Goodbye, vrana.’
They hugged and kissed once more, this time with more feeling. Radovan watched her depart, his face wistful. He left cash to cover the check, and walked through the main store to the front window. He saw Ciric get into the passenger seat of a large black Audi with two men in the back before the driver pulled out and drove down Burggasse toward the MuseumsQuartier. No van, then. Perhaps, had the meeting with Ciric gone badly, he would have been consigned to the trunk of the car. Still, he waited for a while before leaving, just to be sure he was safe. He browsed the men’s section of the boutique, and bought himself a vintage scarf in celebration. The scarf was black and gold, but more the former than the latter, which Radovan thought was appropriate.
For the bloodshed, he knew, was not yet over.
Chapter LXXI
Zorya was once again by the Zollamtsbrücke, watching the water run beneath. Spiridon’s friends in the United States had failed in their attempt to kill the dead girl’s father, which put Zorya in a very dangerous position. The Vuksans were being hunted in this realm, but Zorya moved between worlds, which potentially left her at the mercy of human elements in one and Jennifer Parker in the other. The Vuksans’ time was coming to an end, and Zorya thought she might sleep once they were gone. She did not want Jennifer to pursue her while she was at rest. A compromise had to be reached.
Slowly Zorya crossed the bridge, and Vienna faded from sight. In its place lay a gray landscape and a vast lake. A bench stood on the shore, but it was unoccupied. A fog hung over the water, a cloud of the dead seeking to lose itself in the great expanse.
‘You shouldn’t have come back here.’
The voice came from behind her. Zorya turned, and Jennifer was waiting.
‘I wanted to talk to you,’ said Zorya. She sounded different here, fainter. The dead owned this place, and their utterances held precedence. Zorya was more like them than most, but she continued to cling to some semblance of life.