Page 105 of The Nameless Ones

Spiridon placed his hands on his brother’s shoulders.

‘I have no choice,’ said Spiridon, all anger gone now. ‘I cannot be other than how God made me.’

‘God did not make you like this,’ said Radovan. ‘You are all your own work.’

‘I give the devil some credit, too.’

‘Then you have made him very proud.’ Radovan stepped away. ‘Where is Zorya?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Spiridon. ‘I have spoken with her of this, and she has confirmed that she also wishes to go home. With her by my side, maybe I will prove even harder to kill.’

Radovan went to the desk in which he stored his papers and unlocked a drawer.

‘I have kept some cash in reserve,’ he said. ‘Euros, dollars, dinars. Not much, but what little there is might help.’

‘I’ll take the dinars,’ said Spiridon. ‘You can keep the rest.’

‘Actually,’ said Radovan, ‘I’m going to keep it all.’

The first shot, muffled by the suppressor but still loud, took Spiridon in the chest. He stayed on his feet, supporting himself with one hand on the back of his chair, so Radovan shot him again, and this time Spiridon went down, taking the chair with him. He was still breathing, although exhaling blood. Radovan knelt and took Spiridon’s right hand in his. He squeezed it hard, and felt Spiridon’s grip tighten in response. They stayed that way, unspeaking, until Spiridon’s hold on his brother, and this world, came at last to an end.

Chapter LXXXIII

Zivco Ilic parked the car in front of the house and walked to the door, the key in his right hand. Low walls separated the building from the properties on either side, both of which were Airbnb rentals, although only one had been in use since the Vuksans had taken up occupancy of the middle property. He entered the house, closed the door behind him, and took the stairs to the top floor. The door was slightly ajar, but he knocked before entering, as he always did.

‘Come in.’

It was Radovan’s voice. Ilic stepped into the room and saw Spiridon’s body on the floor. Radovan was sitting in the chair by his desk, a gun in his right hand. The gun was not pointing at Ilic, but that, he knew, could quickly change.

‘What happened?’ said Ilic.

‘A disagreement,’ said Radovan, ‘a conflict of interests. You have our documents?’

‘Yes.’

‘And your own?’

‘Yes. They gave me the name Rusin, Thomas Rusin.’

‘And how do you feel about that?’

Zivco Ilic had enjoyed only the most rudimentary and fleeting of experiences with the educational system. He read poorly and held the barest grasp of history, geography, and the sciences, but he possessed a certain mathematical acumen. He was currently calculating the odds against his survival, and decided that the right answer to the last question might aid him in improving them considerably.

‘I think I would like the opportunity to explore this new identity,’ he said.

Ilic heard Radovan Vuksan sigh deeply, and thought he might have chosen the incorrect response. His own gun felt both very near and very far from his hand, until Radovan tossed an envelope at his feet and said:

‘It’s just two thousand dollars, but it’ll have to do for now. There are other assets, which I need to find a safe way to liquidate. When I do, you’ll be looked after. Check the email address regularly. I’ll be in touch.’

‘Where will you go, Radovan?’

‘I don’t know. Not to the Caribbean. Maybe the Far East. And you?’

‘Somewhere in Europe. They say Portugal is cheap, but I don’t speak the language, and I will never learn now.’ Ilic picked up the envelope of cash. ‘Zorya told me I would die soon, so it is not important anyway.’

‘Pay no attention to her,’ said Radovan. ‘She may look like a child, but she is a woman to the bone. They manipulate us, all of them.’

Ilic smiled sadly. ‘She did not tell me anything that I did not already know.’

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