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"Mr. Mlakar." James tried to raise what passed for an expression of joy.

"Well, gentlemen, I think we should talk business. I hope you will not be intimidated by my men downstairs. These are dangerous times, eh?"

"Of course." Sinclair shrugged. "That's why Mr. Winchester is here with me. You can never be too careful these days."

Jakov sat down opposite them. He brushed the tablecloth with the flat of his palm and rested his arm across it, displaying the gold Rolex watch fastened to his wrist. Crossing one leg over the other, he reclined in his seat.

"I'm sure you know Kemal well,” said Sinclair. “Can I ask what you know so far?"

"Kemal. I haven't seen him for many years. We had some good times together. A pity that we went our separate ways. But he wanted to raise his son, and I respect that. Did he ever tell you I once saved his life?"

The two Englishmen shook their heads.

"Ah, yes. It was just after the war. We were running guns at the time across the border with Croatia. Some soldiers found out and shot at us. They cornered him like a rat, so I turned back and got him out." He guffawed to himself. "Those were special times."

"He never told us about any of that," said Sinclair in a tone of fake interest.

"Anyway, Kemal told me very little. Only that you had a business proposition for me. I agreed to meet you as a personal favour to a good friend of mine."

“I will speak frankly, Mr. Mlakar, we are here for one reason and one reason only: to kill Sadik Kadrić. I’m sure you’re aware of him.”

Jakov inclined his head with interest.

“Our job is that simple. We have received intelligence that Kadrić is prepared to strike, to blow open Bosnia with a new war. To help him in this, we know he has allied with the Serbian mafia. That gives him access to weapons and manpower. We are not going to be able to fight him if we don’t have the same.”

“So, you come to me for weapons and manpower? You want to involve my men, Croatians, in this war of yours.” Jakov’s expression dropped. “Like pawns, for you foreigners.”

A pinkish hue spread across Sinclair’s cheeks. “Not at all, Mr. Mlakar, this is just business.”

“A business that would see most of my men dead. Then what happens? The Serbians take my territory. The Russians come from Montenegro and soon control all of our markets in Dubrovnik and Herzegovina?”

“I only ask for your help in this matter. You’ll be paid well.”

Jakov sniffed and flexed his fingers on the tables. “I warned Kemal many times. Never to bring his politics to me. He is a great friend, but a fool. We want nothing to do with your politics. And everything in this country is politics. Our men have had enough of war. Now we make money, only money.”

“What’s your price?”

“There is no price. War is good for us anyway. It opens up more routes for our goods. It gives us openings to remove the competition. Why would war be so bad for us? It doesn’t matter who runs Bosnia. We are eternal.”

James’ nostrils flared at Jakov’s explanation. “I didn’t know Croatians were in league with Serbians now.”

Sinclair looked horrified.

Jakov rounded on James. “What do you know of this country, stranac? You people watched this country be destroyed. You looked and did nothing until they were all dead.”

“What you’re saying is you could avoid another war, but you choose not to because you want to go into business for yourself. I don’t think my view has anything to do with the fact I’m from somewhere else. Ask anyone who lives in this country.”

Jakov ran his tongue across his teeth. “If Kemal was no friend of mine, you would be a dead man.”

“Mr. Mlakar,” Sinclair intervened. “Please excuse my associate. This is my proposal. Name any price you want, and I can meet it. I would only require your cooperation in the short-term, until Kadrić is dead.”

Jakov uncrossed his legs and rose to his feet. “We have nothing more to speak of.” He adjusted his suit. “Leave Mostar immediately, that is my advice to you.”

James watched the mafia chief depart. At least four men got up from tables downstairs and left behind him. The little silver bell above the door tinkled, signalling their departure.

“Well, that could have gone better,” James declared.

Sinclair glared acid at him. “You couldn’t just keep your mouth shut, could you?”

“He wasn’t going to help us anyway. He’d already told you no before I said anything.”

“Let’s just take his advice and get back to Sarajevo, okay? I like my head to stay on my shoulders.”

James shrugged. He didn’t understand Sinclair’s problem. Jakov wasn’t the sort of man he could trust. Killing men like him was the reason why he’d joined Blackwind in the first place. What a foolish young man he’d been, he thought.

Chapter Twenty-Five

 

A fine rain began to pour, and they ducked their heads. James squinted into the fine mist, his adrenaline still pounding. He wasn’t sure who he felt the most anger towards: Jakov Mlakar for being a sociopath or Kemal for setting up the meeting in the first place.

“I will need to inform Gallagher about our progress,” Sinclair said as they returned to the Stari Most. “He may need to advise us on how to proceed further.”

James shook his head. “We don’t need to involve Gallagher. What we need is a new plan. I will kill Pejakovski without Mlakar’s help, and then I’ll use him to get to Kadrić. We have his location. A quick drive up there and we can get the job done. Kadrić will never see it coming.”

“James, why do you never listen to me?” Sinclair cried.

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