‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’
‘I’m not sure I meant it as one.’
‘I’ll still take it as a compliment.’
Georg stepped closer and stared hard at Victor. Her eyes were bloodshot, pupils dilated. On something stronger than just nicotine. ‘I’m really not going to find out who you are, am I?’
‘No,’ Victor said. ‘And you wouldn’t want to.’
‘A shame.’ Georg sighed and perched herself on a crate and used a hand to wipe something from her jeans. ‘Let’s do some business.’
Victor nodded. ‘I take it you have all the goods on the list.’
Georg counted off on her fingers as she said, ‘Russian army blasting caps, nine-millimetre pistol with threaded barrel, silencer, pick gun, and fourteen pounds of cyclotrimethylenetrinitramine with the bits to make it go ka-boom. Did I pronounce that right, by the way?’
‘You did,’ Victor assured. ‘I want to check everything.’
‘Of course, my boy, I would have expected nothing less. You’re a professional, after all.’ She drew out the words. ‘But so am I. And I’d like to see the money first.’
With his free hand, Victor slowly reached into an outer pocket. He did so while closely watching what the muscle and the guide were doing. There were no tension-relieving gestures, no shifting of weight, nothing to suggest they were waiting to put a pre-planned course of action into play when he showed he had the money. Satisfied this wasn’t an ambush, Victor withdrew the slim bundle of hundred-euro notes.
Georg dropped down from the crate and inched closer. She stared at the money. ‘That doesn’t look like enough to me.’
‘It’s half of it.’
Georg’s eyes rose to meet Victor’s. She spoke quietly, menacingly. ‘Then you’ve not only wasted my time but insulted me. And neither is a very wise move for a man in your position.’
‘After I have the goods you can come with me to pick up the rest of the money,’ Victor explained. ‘Or send one of your men to do so.’
‘That’s not how I do business.’
‘And ferries, empty warehouses and guards with forty-fives aren’t how I do business,’ Victor countered. ‘This is the price you pay for how things have been conducted thus far.’
The muscle touched a hand to his gun. His expression was half-surprised, half-annoyed. Georg considered for a few seconds.
‘What’s to stop me taking that money and having the location of the second half beaten out of you?’
The guide and the muscle both stiffened in readiness for what might follow.
Victor kept his gaze locked on Georg. ‘One, you’d lose a valuable future customer. And two,’ he said, voice calm, emotionless. ‘I’d kill you and your men inside ten seconds.’
The muscle didn’t like that answer. His scowl intensified and his knuckles whitened. The guide’s back straightened. Victor ignored them both. He watched Georg’s reaction, first shock and anger that eventually became a smile and Victor knew he’d played it correctly.
‘Okay,’ she said, ‘we’ll do it your way.’
CHAPTER 6
Victor heard them a few seconds before he saw them. They entered fast, through the entrance on the wall next to the sink — five men full of intent, four with guns in hand. One shotgun. Three handguns. They didn’t move or look like trained professionals but the way they held their weapons showed they were no strangers to violence.
The muscle reacted fast, turning and reaching for the Colt but a shout to stop and muzzles pointed his way made him think twice. The guide showed the palms of his hands while Georg kicked a crate in anger, or disgust or both.
Victor remained as he was. Aside from the elevator there was no exit close enough to risk moving to, and no way to get the shutter opened and closed before bullets started taking pieces out of him. Until he knew what was happening, there was nothing else he could do.
As he entered, the last of the intruders shouted, ‘Ah, my dear Georg. Fancy finding you here.’
He was short, slight of build, dressed in a cheap suit. His hands were free of weapons but Victor paid him the most attention. The others moved closer and spread out, one covering Georg, the guide and Victor. Two at the muscle. The one with the shotgun pointed it at Victor. Typical.
Georg held her arms out questioningly. ‘What are you doing here, Krausse?’
The man in the cheap suit stepped into the light. He was maybe forty years old. His thinning hair was black and short. Pockmarks covered the skin of his cheeks and forehead.
‘I could ask you the same thing, Georg,’ Krausse said, glancing around. ‘But it looks to me like you’re conducting some business, and without my prior knowledge.’
‘Get out of here, Krausse,’ Georg shouted, ‘and take your clowns with you. What we’re doing has nothing to do with you.’
‘Oh, but it does,’ Krausse laughed. ‘We’re business partners, remember?’
‘We were,’ Georg corrected.
Malice was in Krausse’s smile. ‘I’ll be the judge of that.’ He looked at Victor. ‘Who’s the suit?’
‘What does it matter? He’s no one.’
‘It matters.’ Krausse gestured Victor’s way. ‘Who are you?’
Victor stood casually. ‘Like she said, no one.’
‘You will be no one if you don’t tell me what you’re doing here.’
Victor glanced at each of Krausse’s men. The three with handguns were twitchy — lots of little movements, swallowing. Light caught the sweat on their skin. The one with the shotgun was calmer, more focused, his small eyes barely blinking. The nostrils of his flat, misshapen nose flexed with relaxed, regular breaths.
After a moment Victor said, ‘I’m making a buy.’
‘And what are you buying?’
‘Flowers for my mother.’
A couple of Krausse’s men smiled.
Krausse exhaled. ‘Funny fucker, aren’t you?’
‘I’m reading a joke book.’
Georg looked over a shoulder. ‘Do us all a favour and stay quiet.’
‘That’s good advice,’ Krausse said. ‘We don’t have to get unpleasant. I’m just here to take my rightful share of any transactions.’
‘You mean you’re here to steal,’ Georg said.
Krausse smirked in response. ‘If that’s how you want to put it, my sweet, I’m not going to argue.’ He turned to Victor. ‘What are you buying? And think about your answer before you speak this time.’
Victor remained silent.
‘He’s buying explosives,’ Georg said after a few seconds. ‘A gun, stuff like that.’
‘Interesting.’ Krausse raised his eyebrows at Victor and nodded. ‘Are they for your mother too?’
‘She likes to stay active.’
Krausse laughed and his men joined him, guns lowering a few inches. Victor watched the guy with the shotgun turn to one of the others and shake his head in disbelief. The shotgun barrel angled down a fraction.
Krausse looked back to Georg. ‘Where the hell did you find this guy?’
‘He found me.’
‘Figures. Just how much explosive is he buying?’
Georg shrugged. ‘A reasonable amount.’
Krausse smiled at Victor. ‘Then knowing Georg, you’ll be paying an unreasonable amount for it.’ He looked at one of his men. ‘Take his cash.’
The man who approached Victor was about the same height — an inch or two over six feet — but bigger at the neck, shoulders and especially waistline. His face was hard, serious. He stank.
‘You packing?’ he asked as he came closer.
Victor said, ‘Not unless you count my coffee.’
In the edge of his vision, Victor caught Georg glancing his way. Victor didn’t glance back.
The gunman lowered his weapon as he approached. ‘Just keep your hands where I can see them.’
He patted Victor down with his left hand. Not as thorough as Georg’s muscle, but thorough enough. The man took the stack of money from Victor’s hand and held it up for Krausse to see. He half-turned away from Victor to do so. Victor waited a second and took a small sidestep to the right.