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didn't exactly expect anyone to be here at all."

"Ah, it's no problem." Miran patted the edge of the sofa. "Please, sit down. I thought it better that I could meet you at last. Meet you because I can't see you. I'm blind, but my hearing is good. I heard you come in."

James and Sinclair exchanged looks.

"We were worried you weren't going to come, actually. I needed to talk to you quickly. I have some information that could help you complete the contract."

James couldn't help but reach his hand in front of Miran's face. He waved it around and Miran didn't acknowledge it. Nemanja shot him a disapproving glare.

"We are all ears," said Sinclair, leaning against the wall opposite.

"Things are not going as I’d expected. I was hoping this would be a smooth operation, but it isn’t. Dead politicians, gunfights in the streets, it's like hearing about the war again." Miran frowned. "I remember watching news like it from Germany, where I was a refugee as a child. This is not good."

"Matters are rarely as smooth as one would expect in this business."

James had already decided he didn't like Miran. They'd known each other less than two minutes and already he felt like he was disparaging his methods.

"Of course, of course, I understand, but we're playing into Kadrić's hands. It's what he wants. He wants war. Any excuse. That's why I came here to tell you that Kadrić will die this weekend."

James raised his eyebrows. "How will that work?"

"I did my own research. Well, I should say Nemanja did my research for me. Being blind makes it difficult to look at a computer screen. Kadrić will be in Belgrade this weekend to meet Ambassador Vojo Plemenac. I don't know why, but he'll be meeting him at the fortress in the centre of town at night. Get inside the fortress above Belgrade and you can kill him there. There are not many ways out. The fortress never closes."

James' heart leapt. Could it be true?

"How do you know this?" asked Sinclair.

"I have many powerful friends in Serbia. Bosnians. Good people who make good business. They know everything that happens in Belgrade when it comes to their country. All Bosnians are brothers in war. We know how much it cost us."

"I see," said Sinclair. "Then we'll be in Belgrade this weekend, you can guarantee it. Do you know what time the meeting will take place?"

Miran moved his head to look at Nemanja. "What time did we say?"

"Just after midnight. It should be then, I think. We don't know where, but it will in the open. Not on the north side. Forests are there. Too risky for both. Try the south."

James folded his arms. "Will they be alone?"

"I think so, yes," replied Miran. "They are associates. And the ambassador will be a smart man. Kadrić knows he could never touch a man like him. Diplomatic immunity, so what would be the point?"

James leaned forwards, contemplating what was to come. He had never been to Belgrade. He didn't know the fortress and he didn't know the layout of the city. Foreign ground was always a risk. The enemy had the advantage. Then again, it might be the best chance they ever had at taking down Kadrić.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Sinclair radioed Gallagher they would move to Belgrade for a couple of days. Meanwhile, James made arrangements with Kemal to meet. Too much had passed between them over the Mostar incident. James needed him on his side. If anything went wrong in Belgrade, he would still need a Bosnian in Sarajevo he could trust.

James met Kemal at the same cafe they'd first met, though Kemal no longer greeted him with his former smiles and joviality. What happened to Ratko must still have played on his mind. James, too, felt guilty about dragging a person with peace in his heart into his world of violence.

"Kemal, I'm sorry for everything that's happened," James said as he sat down.

Kemal nodded. "Coffee?"

"No, sorry, I don't have time. Business."

"Okay, okay."

James shifted uncomfortably, an awkward silence settling between them as Kemal stirred his Bosnian coffee.

"How's Ratko?"

"Hospital. They broke his arm, four ribs, and his face... his face is bad, eh?"

James hesitated. "Look, I didn't mean this to happen to him. I never wanted your family to be involved in this."

"No, no, my friend. It is war. War is different. He will never know war." Kemal tapped his temple. "He does not know. A man must fight, or he dies. Ratko is a good boy, but he is not smart. Not like his father, not like you."

James agreed with Kemal wholeheartedly, but he couldn't bring himself to say it. Ratko wanted him gone from his life forever, yet he still couldn't help but feel like his mission had destroyed a bystander's life. The White Rose couldn't operate if Ratko knew what was good for him. Now the nationalists knew him intimately they would never leave him alone if he raised his head above the parapet.

“Do you think you could do me a favour?” asked James.

“Of course, I have debts to you, my friend. Anything.”

“It’s not much. I was wondering if you could ask Ismet to send some of his Horde Sla to watch over Ratko. Things are going to get worse. I don’t know how much worse, but their first thought will be that Ratko had something to do with…” James gazed around to make sure nobody was listening. “With what happens next. I want him protected.”

Kemal nodded. “It’s a good idea, eh? They are strong men.”

“Thank you, Kemal, it’s the least I can do. I’ll cover the expenses. I don’t want your family to be hurt by this. It’s nothing to do with Ratko.”

“He said bad things to you, eh?”

James looked away from Kemal’s

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