Kasic paused to light a cigarette, pulling a Marlboro from a pack on his desk. Was this going to be a lecture on the war or would they ever discuss Vitas?
“Which is where this little investigation comes in,” Kasic said, as if reading Vlado’s mind. “Every time they catch the slightest whiff of something dirty blowing from our way, anything to do with corruption, racketeering, profiteering on our side of the fence, it becomes another piece of ammunition for keeping the embargo in place. It’s an easy enough selclass="underline" ‘If the Bosnians can’t even clean up after themselves, why should we help them make an even bigger mess.’ We thought we’d proved our point with the raids in October, but the U.N. isn’t buying it. Too many loose ends left behind, they say. And they didn’t like the way Vitas brought in a few ‘undesirables’ toward the end to help us along. Made all our positive results tainted, they said. We only set up a few has-beens to be the new lords. Still, too much funny money floating around and too many funny ways of earning it, they said. And there’s some truth to it. You look at the markets for gasoline, cigarettes, meat, coffee, whatever you want to pick, and it’s still in the hands of people just beyond our reach. And I suppose it goes without saying, but I’ll say it anyway None of this conversation is to go beyond these walls. Clear enough?”
“Clear enough.”
Kasic flicked his cigarette at an ashtray.
“But anyone with eyes can see that the problems are still with us. Even if it’s not as obvious as before. Too many people are still profiting from the status quo.”
Kasic then leaned forward across the desk, lowering his head, his eyes narrowing in concentration, like a big, sleek dog poking into the burrow of a far smaller animal.
“And frankly, Vlado, although it pains me greatly to say it, Vitas may have been among those who was profiting. At least that’s how it looks from what little we’ve already learned. When we first heard Vitas had been murdered we thought what everyone must have. He made a lot of very powerful enemies in October, and one of them must have retaliated. But now it looks like it may be more complicated, and a lot messier. And as soon as we saw where this was going we called you in. No sense in having the U.N. believe the foxes are trying to guard the henhouse on this one.”
Vlado started to interrupt with a question, because now he had plenty. But Kasic was rolling.
“Besides, I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said, pointing the cigarette at Vlado’s chest. “Enough to know that you’re a good man for this sort of thing. Blunt. Not afraid to step on toes even when it might not be good for you. Probably the very things that scare the daylights out of Garovic, but it’s what we need on this one, although I don’t suppose you’ve had a case quite like this one yet, have you?”
“No sir. Not exactly.”
“And it’s not as if you’ve been getting much of a chance for them since we’ve gone into business. Yes, I know, we’ve also stolen most of the resources, too. And if Imamovic were still alive he’d have never have allowed this to happen without one hell of a fight. But, frankly, Vlado, and this is not to denigrate your talents or any of your people, our people here are used to dealing with this particular underworld. They’ve come to know all its little streets and alleys, especially since October, even if we don’t have them all quite under control yet. And we do undeniably have the best resources for doing this kind of work.
“Which brings me to my next point. Please, Vlado, use our expertise when you can. Staying independent doesn’t mean staying in the dark. Keep me in the dark, yes, fine, as much as you like. But our technical staff is yours for the asking. And I know we have a better lab than your man Grebo’s. The same is true of our files. Open to you. Within reason of course, because if your thinking is that you don’t really know or trust us yet, the feeling is necessarily mutual at this point.”
Vlado nodded, then decided it was an opportune moment to interrupt. “As long as we’re discussing possible assistance, I’d like to be able to bring Damir Begovic in on the case with me. He’s with my department, I trust him, and we work well together.”
Kasic frowned, as if he’d just eaten something disagreeable. Then he sighed, releasing a long, pained breath from his nostrils.
“Probably not the partner I’d choose for you if the choice was up to me. But …”
As he paused, Vlado wondered if the meeting was being taped, if perhaps Kasic would replay the whole thing later for some international observer, just to prove he’d been on his best behavior. Whatever the reason, Vlado momentarily got the answer he’d been hoping for.
“Very well, then. Use Begovic as you need him. But sparingly. Keep the major work for yourself. The fewer who have access to your findings, the better. And if you’re feeling overwhelmed in tracking people down, or even in getting the information you need, there is, as I said, help that we might be able to offer. I don’t know what your interrogation skills are like, but should you happen to hit any brick walls with anyone, we have some of the oldest hands in the city in dealing with that sort of thing.” Vlado knew what that meant, most likely. Big fellows sitting around in brightly lit rooms, sipping coffee while they broke kneecaps and hooked up the electrodes.
“No matter what kind of country we want to have in the future,” Kasic said, “the old ways sometimes still work best. Don’t misunderstand me, Vlado. You’re the boss. As I was saying, we want to come clean on this, the quicker the better. That’s why when I began to hear certain things this morning about Vitas himself, it became all the more important that we immediately give up our jurisdiction.”
“What sort of things?”
Kasic lowered his head, shaking it slowly, the portrait of a grieving son.
“I’d always heard he was a straight shooter,” Vlado prompted.
“So had I. None straighter, in fact. But maybe with a war on he felt the rules were different, or that they no longer applied.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to be a little more specific.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re interrogating now.” Kasic broke into a broad smile. “In fact as long as you’re here you’d probably like to ask me a few things about my own whereabouts last night. I’ve certainly got motive enough. My promotion was pretty much automatic once Vitas was gone.”
“The thought had occurred to me,” Vlado said, taking care with his tone. “I’ll have to know where you were at the time of the murder and, assuming you have an alibi, where you were when you first heard of it, who told you. Your reaction. Not only from you but from others. And so on.”
Kasic nodded, stubbed out his cigarette. “Very good. You’ll have all of the time you need for those things as soon as this conversation is over. But, in getting back to Vitas …”
“His lack of virtue.”
“Yes. The black market, I’m afraid. Nothing fancy. Meat, cigarettes, and liquor, mostly.”
“Marlboros, for example?” Vlado asked, reaching across to Kasic’s pack and helping himself to one.
Kasic smiled. He offered Vlado a light and took a cigarette for himself. “Yes, Marlboros. Drinas, too. And he apparently got in deep enough to get himself killed. It’s no real puzzle why, I suppose. Either he was squeezing someone or someone was squeezing him. It came to a head and somebody had to be gotten rid of. It turned out to be Vitas. As for who pulled the trigger, well, we could probably spend the rest of the war tracking that one down if it’s like most of these cases. You know how it works.”
“Actually, I’m not sure I do. Our little department seems to have lost touch.”
For the first time Kasic seemed mildly embarrassed. “Yes. This great dent we’ve put in your business. And just when you should have been learning the ropes. Well, the way it usually works these days is that when somebody wants to buy a triggerman he gets some soldier who’s down from the front for a day or two, someone looking for a few extra Deutschemarks for himself or his family. He’s given a gun, a name, and maybe even a location and a time. He does the job, stashes his wad in a mattress somewhere away from a window, or anywhere else it won’t be burned or blown to bits, and vanishes back into the mud. That description narrows it down to a few thousand. But if that’s indeed what happened, it’s not the trigger we’re really interested in. It’s the one who gave the order, the person who presumably is high enough in the smuggling network to order the killing of the chief of the Interior Ministry’s police.”