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was a liability."

"Why do you say that?" said James.

"It's quite simple. The man is a war criminal. How could Bosnian-Serbs make a case for their independence from the Federation under the leadership of a man who committed war crimes?"

"So, you killed him. What does that mean for you now?"

James bit down on his tongue. He wanted to shout out that they knew Plemenac wasn't his real name, and that he was no better than the man he'd killed.

"Ah, Mr. Wood. I will direct the nationalist movement now. Any resistance to that will be removed. As an ambassador, it gives me a unique position. I have far greater contacts and under my leadership, Srpska will be free of Bosnia. Whether that means independence or a union with Serbia, that is up to the people to decide."

"How magnanimous of you," said James.

"Will you stop me?"

"I might."

Plemenac glared at him. "You could shoot me now if it pleased you. As you can see, I am alone. There are two of you and only one of me." He opened his suit jacket. "You can also see I am unarmed. What could I do against the both of you?"

James held his tongue between his teeth. "I don't think so. You wouldn’t have come alone if you were worried about getting shot."

"Smart man. You know what it would mean if you murdered me. Your employer would be ruined. You would not be able to hide for long. The murder of a foreign diplomat with diplomatic immunity would destroy the whole region. Tell me, Mr. Winchester, what is it you want to achieve here? Why does the fate of these two small nations enflame your passions so?"

"It doesn't. But I know the difference between right and wrong. I couldn't live with myself if I'd have helped contribute another brutal war here."

"So, it is a moral issue?"

"Something like that."

"Well, you know the reasons and you know what I hope to achieve for my people." Plemenac got to his feet and rebuttoned his suit jacket. "I advise you to move on with your life, Mr. Winchester."

"We'll see. Don't think that diplomatic immunity will save you forever. It won't stop a bullet."

Plemenac scoffed. "Take my advice, Mr. Winchester, go back to your home. Bosnia is a very complicated place."

Chapter Fifty-One

Banja Luka, Bosanska Krajina, Bosnia and Herzegovina

Darko didn't like this. He didn't like this at all. Working with the foreigner who slaughtered his friend and watched as his mentor bled out in the centre of Belgrade. He fought between his animal urges to take revenge and the logic of working with James to reap vengeance on the man who ultimately murdered Kadrić. Approaching the small fortress in central Banja Luka, it made him sick to his stomach to imagine Kadrić dying in a set of ruins a couple hundred kilometres from here.

"Davor, Krsti, how are you both?" Darko turned towards the two twins who’d been Kadrić’s henchman and embraced them.

"We should have been there," said Krsti. "But he told us not to. I don't know why."

"He was a brave man. A warrior," said Davor.

All three men nodded in recognition of the brother they'd lost.

They began to walk, holding their peace, allowing themselves a moment to dwell on their memories of Kadrić. Dusk in Banja Luka looked much the same as the rest of the day in winter. The fortress sat above the river, lined with plastic bags and other rubbish. A couple of bold fishermen in flat caps and thick bodywarmers continued to search for a catch in the frigid waters.

"What do we do now?" asked Davor as he leaned against the fortress wall, watching the men playing the water.

"We are going to kill Vojo Plemenac. He will die painfully. More painfully than Sadik ever did. We will make it slow. Only when the last drop of blood has been extracted from him will we allow him to go." He clenched his fist as he said it.

"What does that mean for us? For everyone else?" asked Krsti.

Darko couldn't answer that. By rights, with Kadrić dead, he would lead the movement against Bosnia. Kadrić had made it clear to anyone who would listen that Darko was his designated heir, but he knew things weren't always as simple as that. Many of the men he had fought beside cared little for Kadrić as a man. They had all but said they would follow Plemenac if he could give them the freedom they desired. Where did that leave Darko and Kadrić’s men?

"Plemenac must die," Darko said at last. "Everything else can wait."

"You have our lives." Davor slapped him on the back. "We do whatever you ask, Darko."

"One thing I do know about Plemenac is the key to his plan. He has an inside man with the Bosnians. I spoke to one of our brothers. He used to work with Plemenac during the war. Plemenac is the man responsible for everything that has happened now."

"What?" Krsti exclaimed.

"He is a very rich man in Sarajevo.  swore on the lives of children that everything is true, but he never knew his name. He told me the foreigners were asked to kill Kadrić on Plemenac's orders. The Bosnians will be dismantled from within."

The twins' mouths hung open. He'd had when he found out the news from one of his old war comrades.

"But who?" said Davor. "Who?"

Darko shook his head. "I don't know. Only that he is very rich and very blind."

Krsti opened his mouth to speak but suddenly his head exploded. Blood sprayed Darko in the face, blinding him.  He heard another shot and another cry. Birds squawked and broke their branches as they fought to escape the commotion.

Darko moved. His eyes stinging with Krsti’s blood. He ran for cover, his fingers desperately trying to clear his

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