fixed on his assailant, waited for the strike then blocked the guy’s knife hand with a forearm punch. Kicking out with his foot, and hooking it round the guy’s thigh, he knocked him off balance. As he crashed to the pavement, knife flailing, Tallis moved in to stamp on the guy’s chest. To his astonishment, the man raised his hands, and let out a laugh. The hood had slipped back, revealing a face: Goran.
“Fuckin’ weird sense of humour,” Tallis said in Croatian, grabbing Goran’s arm and pulling him up. “Oh, Christ,” he said, looking at the staggering figure unpeeling himself from the wing of a Mini. “That Janko?”
“You fight good,” Janko said, eyes rolling, still dazed.
“Come,” Goran said, slapping his arm around Tallis’s shoulder. “We drink. We celebrate. Then we meet Iva.”
Iva had the bearing of a rattlesnake. He was tall and thin with deep hooded eyes that never let you know what was going on behind them. As Tallis had clearly passed his little initiation ceremony with flying colours, he seemedaffable enough, but Tallis wouldn’t have trusted him as far as he could have thrown the mighty Duka. By now, Janko and Goran had melted into the background. This was Iva’s show.
Iva was from Osijek, a large town on the south bank of the river Drava. Like Vukovar, its near neighbour, it had suffered heavy bombardment during the hostilities in 1991. Tallis prayed Iva wasn’t going to quiz him about his so-called homeland and his alleged activities during the war. Fortunately, Iva appeared more curious about Tallis’s commercial interests.
“The boys say you have contacts in the South-West,” Iva said, taking a sip of brandy, his lazy eyes focused on Tallis.
“That’s right,” Tallis said. “We like to make extensive use of the region’s natural resources.”
Iva inclined his head.
“Fishermen are key to the success of the enterprise,” Tallis explained.
“And heroin is so much more lucrative than cod, I think,” Iva said with a slow smile. “Tell me how it works.”
“Drugs are generally imported through larger foreign vessels coming from the usual routes—cocaine either from the Caribbean or Colombia, cannabis from North Africa through Morocco and Spain. We have a deal going on at the moment with one of the cross-Channel ferries, but that’s a separate venture,” Tallis said, hoping that this would tempt Iva to take him seriously and realise that he was playing with someone in a bigger league. “Smaller craft meet the foreign vessels out at sea, take the goods and land them in one of the many coves along the coast. It’s an old-fashioned technique, once used for smuggling contraband, and known as coopering. Goods are recoveredand driven up the motorway to wherever you want them.”
“And police?”
“When did you last go to Devon?” Tallis snorted. “Plods are only concerned with boat theft and CD players nicked from cars.”
“I have never been to Devon.”
“Well, now’s your chance. I’ll show you the sights,” Tallis said with a smile.
Iva didn’t react. This bloke was nobody’s mate, Tallis thought.
“I understand you’ve pissed someone off,” Iva said.
“He pissed me off.”
Iva gave a thoughtful nod. “You work alone?”
“Does anyone?”
“What would your colleagues think?”
“About what?”
“Doing business with us.”
“As long as there’s money in it, they’d be happy,” Tallis smiled.
“So you can effect an introduction?”
“Naturally.”
Iva nodded again and asked Tallis where he could be contacted. Tallis gave him his number and they agreed to talk some more the following day.
This time there were no problems. Tallis paid Duka and went straight to room eleven. The girl was sitting in exactly the same place. Only her face was different. A bruise was blossoming on one of her cheekbones and her bottom lip was puffy and split. Tallis moved silently towards her, rested a hand on the top of her head, making her
“Fuckin’ weird sense of humour,” Tallis said in Croatian, grabbing Goran’s arm and pulling him up. “Oh, Christ,” he said, looking at the staggering figure unpeeling himself from the wing of a Mini. “That Janko?”
“You fight good,” Janko said, eyes rolling, still dazed.
“Come,” Goran said, slapping his arm around Tallis’s shoulder. “We drink. We celebrate. Then we meet Iva.”
Iva had the bearing of a rattlesnake. He was tall and thin with deep hooded eyes that never let you know what was going on behind them. As Tallis had clearly passed his little initiation ceremony with flying colours, he seemedaffable enough, but Tallis wouldn’t have trusted him as far as he could have thrown the mighty Duka. By now, Janko and Goran had melted into the background. This was Iva’s show.
Iva was from Osijek, a large town on the south bank of the river Drava. Like Vukovar, its near neighbour, it had suffered heavy bombardment during the hostilities in 1991. Tallis prayed Iva wasn’t going to quiz him about his so-called homeland and his alleged activities during the war. Fortunately, Iva appeared more curious about Tallis’s commercial interests.
“The boys say you have contacts in the South-West,” Iva said, taking a sip of brandy, his lazy eyes focused on Tallis.
“That’s right,” Tallis said. “We like to make extensive use of the region’s natural resources.”
Iva inclined his head.
“Fishermen are key to the success of the enterprise,” Tallis explained.
“And heroin is so much more lucrative than cod, I think,” Iva said with a slow smile. “Tell me how it works.”
“Drugs are generally imported through larger foreign vessels coming from the usual routes—cocaine either from the Caribbean or Colombia, cannabis from North Africa through Morocco and Spain. We have a deal going on at the moment with one of the cross-Channel ferries, but that’s a separate venture,” Tallis said, hoping that this would tempt Iva to take him seriously and realise that he was playing with someone in a bigger league. “Smaller craft meet the foreign vessels out at sea, take the goods and land them in one of the many coves along the coast. It’s an old-fashioned technique, once used for smuggling contraband, and known as coopering. Goods are recoveredand driven up the motorway to wherever you want them.”
“And police?”
“When did you last go to Devon?” Tallis snorted. “Plods are only concerned with boat theft and CD players nicked from cars.”
“I have never been to Devon.”
“Well, now’s your chance. I’ll show you the sights,” Tallis said with a smile.
Iva didn’t react. This bloke was nobody’s mate, Tallis thought.
“I understand you’ve pissed someone off,” Iva said.
“He pissed me off.”
Iva gave a thoughtful nod. “You work alone?”
“Does anyone?”
“What would your colleagues think?”
“About what?”
“Doing business with us.”
“As long as there’s money in it, they’d be happy,” Tallis smiled.
“So you can effect an introduction?”
“Naturally.”
Iva nodded again and asked Tallis where he could be contacted. Tallis gave him his number and they agreed to talk some more the following day.
This time there were no problems. Tallis paid Duka and went straight to room eleven. The girl was sitting in exactly the same place. Only her face was different. A bruise was blossoming on one of her cheekbones and her bottom lip was puffy and split. Tallis moved silently towards her, rested a hand on the top of her head, making her
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