Page 30 of The Bait

The photos weren’t too gruesome, but the men in the photos were clearly dead, very pale, with smears of blood and surprised and blank expressions.

“This one,” Asher pointed to the first photo. “He was the leader and refused to talk. Even after he watched the other two die.”

Ivan Cosic looked at Asher, not so smug now. Eyes a little wide. “I don’t know who they are. Why would I know who they are?”

Asher scrolled to another photo. It was gruesome. The guy’s naked torso, gutted like a fish, his innards now outtards. “Sorry, don’t mind the mess,” Asher said, zooming in to the tattoo on the dead man’s arm. “This tattoo. What does it mean? Is it some special forces mark?”

It was a poorly done tattoo of what looked like a star, possibly a sword, and something that was illegible. Most special forces tattoos were recognisable and professionally done. This one, apart from looking like a prison tattoo, was neither.

Cosic looked a touch green. “Jesus Christ,” he mumbled in English.

“Ah, you speak English. Good, good,” Asher said, in English this time. At least Harry could listen now. “You know this tattoo?”

He gave a nod. “ZBK. It stands forživot bez kajanja.”

“Life without regret,” Asher explained.

Cosic nodded again. “It’s part of the oath for the old JNA.”

“The JNA?” Asher squinted, not expecting that. “Yugoslav People’s Army?” They were disbanded a long time ago...

“Yes, or so they started off that way. But these guys,” Cosic nodded his chin towards Asher’s phone. “Theseguys are crazy sons of bitches. It has nothing to do with Yugoslavia, new or old. They’re loyalists, separatists, believe in a whole lot of conspiracy theories.”

“Right-wing ideologies,” Asher prompted.

He shook his head. “Oh, they’re way beyond that. They started off like that. Twenty years ago, maybe. Small, quiet, peaceful. Then some ex-general got hold of it, turned it into a money-laundering, drug-running, mercenary faction of white supremacists. Guns for hire.”

“Well, three of them are dead now. Who would hire them?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. Someone with a lot of money.” He shrugged. “I honestly don’t know.”

“I’d honestly like you to find out,” Asher said, almost cheerfully. He pocketed his phone. “And I’d also like you to find out any information you can on a man by the name of Asher Garin.”

Asher noticed a slight change in Harry’s stance. He didn’t flinch exactly, but there was the smallest of movements. No one else would have noticed it, but Asher did.

He also noticed a change in Cosic. “What are we talking? Fifty grand?” It was more than generous.

Cosic blinked a few times. “Uh . . .”

“I’ll pay you a hundred grand. Oh and we’ll need a vehicle—nondescript, registered, nothing the cops will notice, with a full tank of fuel—and we have ourselves a deal.” Asher took a decent wad of euros out of his jacket pocket. “Twenty thousand to start.”

Cosic blinked a few times at the money.

“You have twenty-four hours,” Asher said, the deal done. He and Harry went to the door.

“H-h-how will I contact you?” Cosic said.

Asher stopped and gave him a smile. “You won’t. We’ll find you.”

A little threat never hurt any deal.

He and Harry walked out, back down the stairs, through the bar, and to the street. They walked on the shadowed side of the street to the end of the block, and got into a cab. Asher gave the name of the hotel and thankfully, this guy didn’t seem the chatty type.

“That guy was a dick,” Harry grumbled.

“Yes, he was. And his two henchmen were ridiculous.”

“They were barely out of diapers.”

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