Page 66 of The Nameless Ones

Chapter LV

Louis and Most were sitting in an old BMW X3 amid the ruins of the roofless factory, waiting patiently to take a man’s life.

It was a cold, clear night. Most was keeping the car warm in order to prevent condensation from limiting their visibility. The factory stood almost within sight of the eastern boundary of the Novákovi territory, which was as close as Most was willing to get, and closer than he would have preferred. He had parked so that the road behind them could be seen in both directions through the glassless windows of the building. A low wall cut off the property from the road, with a gap on either side wide enough to admit a truck. Most had laid a spike strip at each entrance, which would puncture the tires of any vehicle that tried to approach. Ahead of them, a dirt track cut through waste ground, ending in a small patch of woodland. If everything went awry, and their location was discovered, the spike strips would buy them enough time to make for the woods, ditch the car, and continue south on the powerful motorcycle that Most had concealed under a tarpaulin among the trees. Louis hoped it wouldn’t come to that. He disliked being a passenger at the best of times, but he particularly wished to avoid riding pillion on a motorcycle. Not many things made Louis nervous, but motorcycles were one of them, especially when they were under the control of a man who walked with a cane and admitted to not always being able to feel his right foot.

Louis checked his watch. According to Most’s source, Luca Bilbija typically spent between two and four hours at the casino each night. Given that Bilbija now had a visitor from home, Louis guessed that tonight it was likely to be closer to four – more, should Bilbija and his companion decide to seek some female entertainment. If they did, it was doubtful that they would bring the women back to the house. A man who was spending money on a police escort, and living in a secure compound, would be reluctant to imperil himself by admitting strangers to his accommodations, even girls screened by the Novákovi.

Or so Louis hoped. If Bilbija did decide to take girls home, the hit would have to be postponed. Louis and Most were not prepared to kill innocents. Mirko, the man who claimed to be Bilbija’s brother, was less of a concern; he should have chosen his acquaintances more judiciously. Whatever happened, Most’s contact would let them know just as soon as Bilbija was ready to leave the casino. He would then have to wait for his car to be brought to the main door, and for the two escort cars to arrive. Even so, the window of opportunity would be very small.

To pass the time, Most and Louis listened to some Czech jazz – solo piano music by a young pianist named Beata Hlavenková – followed by the BBC World Service. After two hours, the two men got out, opened the trunk, and removed the primary drone, a DJI S1000, bigger and heavier than the Phantom. The Phantom had a spec weight of about two and a half pounds, or just over a kilo, which meant that it couldn’t easily fly with a camera, a load of high explosive, and a detonator. The DJI could, but it was noisier than the Phantom, so they had chosen the Phantom for the initial surveillance and the DJI for the drop. With its eight arms, the DJI resembled a black-and-red spider. Most carried it to the edge of the lot, as far from the factory as possible. Then, while he watched nervously, Louis packed two pounds of C4 behind the drone’s camera before adding the detonator.

‘Have you done something like this before?’ asked Most.

‘You mean blow stuff up? What do you think?’

‘I meant with a drone.’

‘No. I’m a novice in that way.’

Most didn’t look any happier to hear this, and he already looked very unhappy indeed.

‘You should let me do it.’

‘I’m not going to put Luca Bilbija’s death on your conscience,’ said Louis.

‘Who said anything about a conscience? I just don’t want you to drop that thing on my car.’

Louis wasn’t worried about blowing them up so much as hitting an overhead wire or an unanticipated tree. Well, perhaps he was slightly worried about blowing them up, but he decided not to share this with Most. The DJI had a flight time of fifteen minutes, but they couldn’t risk bringing it close to the casino until Bilbija was on his way back to the house. That way, the engine noise from the convoy would cover the sound of the drone.

They returned to the vehicle and resumed their vigil, this time in silence. When Most’s phone pinged, it surprised them both.

‘They’re on the move,’ said Most, as he read the message. ‘They’ve asked for the Audi to be brought up, and there’s a police chaperone on the way. Five minutes, but no more than that.’

Louis started the propellers and they watched the drone rise. Both men held their breaths. Two pounds of C4 was a significant quantity of explosive, and the detonator was primed to go off as soon as it hit a hard surface. If the drone cut out, the explosion would leave a hell of a crater.

‘Shit,’ said Most, as the phone pinged again.

‘What is it?’

‘A problem. Some kind of disagreement at the door.’

‘Bilbija?’

‘Unclear.’

Most kept his eyes on the phone. Louis held the drone hovering five feet in the air. Now that it was started and airborne, he was reluctant to bring it down again. It was one thing getting the machine off the ground, but another to land it softly, especially with a mass of C4 attached.

‘A fight,’ said Most. ‘Bilbija and Mirko have both drunk a lot. One of the bouncers has taken a punch.’ He paused, as another text message came in. ‘She can’t see everything that’s happening, but she thinks – wait, the escort cars have arrived, and the Audi is leaving.’

Louis sent the drone higher, taking it well above the trees scattered around the perimeter of the lot before turning it toward the casino. The screen on the controller displayed the view from the DJI’s high-definition infrared camera, the terrain clearly visible below.

‘They’re heading for the gate,’ said Most. ‘Thirty seconds.’

Louis had the drone flying fast now. His eyes didn’t deviate from the screen. The road appeared and he directed the drone to follow it. Ahead lay the entrance to the smaller track leading to the house. The track was lined with evergreens, which would make it almost impossible for Louis to target Bilbija’s car. If he was going to make the strike, it would have to be on the main road. He also wanted to come at the Audi from the front, in the hope of hitting the windshield or the hood, or even allowing the drone to be dragged under the vehicle. Wherever the drone struck, the Audi’s forward momentum would work in their favor.

‘They’ve left,’ said Most, before he swore for a second time.

‘Tell me,’ said Louis.

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