lots of jewellery and a white blouse complete with plunging neckline.
He motioned to the bartender. ‘What’ll you have?’
‘Dry martini. And some more olives. Lots of olives.’
Victor reiterated to the bartender.
‘Plenty of women in here,’ Carolin said, ‘so why sit down next to me?’
‘Because you’re not here for the same reason as them.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Everyone here is passing through on the way to somewhere else. You’re not.’
‘That obvious?’
‘No, but being perceptive is nigh on ninety per cent of my work.’
She nodded, smiled. ‘I’m here because my husband is a fat workaholic who only gets hard for his assistant, I’m in Minsk so he doesn’t see what I get up to, and I’m in this bar because I like a certain kind of man. How’s that for a reason?’
‘That’s a pretty good reason.’ He leaned closer. ‘And if I may be so bold as to say so, your husband clearly doesn’t know what he’s missing.’
Not the smoothest of lines, but he needed a quick result or to move on.
She regarded him with an amused smile. ‘Not very subtle, are you, Walt?’
‘Not very,’ he replied and he shuffled his stool closer.
‘Good,’ she said with a wry smile. ‘I like honesty.’
‘Here you go.’
The bartender placed the martini before Carolin. Victor paid.
‘What shall we drink to?’ he asked, raising his drink.
Carolin touched her glass to his. ‘To honesty.’ She took a long sip and her eyes widened in approval. ‘Delicious.’
Over her shoulder, Victor saw three men outside the bar. Petrenko’s freelancers. The two flankers plus one other. They wouldn’t have had time to search through the other stores that fast, so they’d figured out he wouldn’t hide somewhere like that. They entered the bar and looked around. Carolin noticed his distraction but didn’t acknowledge it. The single remaining freelancer was elsewhere, guarding an exit or at Petrenko’s side.
‘So what brings you to Minsk?’ she asked.
Victor took a sip of his vodka lemonade. ‘Work.’
‘Closing a deal?’
‘Something like that.’
He lost sight of them for a moment. He didn’t want to adjust his position for a better view in case his movements caught their eyes.
‘Are you okay?’ Carolin asked.
‘I’m a little tired. Long journey.’
The men reappeared in his view. They were straining their necks, looking around the bar, but looking for a single man, not one half of a couple.
Carolin looked at him meaningfully. ‘You should try and unwind then.’
He nodded. One of Petrenko’s men gestured in the direction of the men’s room, but the other shook his head, not believing Victor would trap himself there. Which was true.
‘My hotel’s across the street,’ Carolin said. ‘There’s a mini bar in my room. We can empty it and my husband will pick up the tab.’
The two flankers gave up and moved on to search elsewhere.
Carolin said, ‘Don’t be scared. I’m only inviting you for a drink.’
Victor stood. ‘Another time perhaps.’
‘You don’t have to run off,’ Carolin said.
Victor didn’t respond. He felt bad for the rejection she must be feeling, but there wasn’t a lot he could do about it. He checked his watch. Nine minutes before the kid with the tool belt raised the alarm. Not long, but Petrenko was still nearby.
CHAPTER 34
Victor checked the kill team leader’s cell phone as he walked among the consumers and travellers. It had the marks of a well-used personal phone, not a sterile item purchased for a specific job. That confirmed what he already knew — these guys weren’t elite operators. But there were still four of them and a bullet that found its mark still killed regardless of the shooter’s qualifications. Victor opened up the call history on the tall man’s cell and dialled the most recent number.
A man he took to be Petrenko answered in Russian after the second ring. In a cautious tone he said, ‘Yes?’
Victor didn’t speak. He listened to the background noise. He could hear Petrenko’s breathing, the echoing sound of a public address system, the hustle of commuters. There was no public address system currently sounding in the mall area but he could just about make one out as it drifted through the air from the main concourse. Victor headed towards the escalators. He kept his eyes moving, checking ahead, his flanks, reflections, anyone looking his way.
‘It’s you,’ Petrenko said.
He sounded surprised but controlled. Intrigued and scared at the same time. His voice carried the accent of a well-spoken Minsk resident, an educated man, wealthy. Victor heard the click of fingers close to Petrenko’s phone. He pictured the Belarusian gesturing and mouthing to the freelancer not in the mall. In the background the public address system continued to broadcast its message. Someone had parked their car in the wrong place and it needed moving. Victor heard the clatter of cutlery or coffee cups — he guessed from someone clearing a table near to Petrenko.
‘That’s right,’ Victor said back.
He walked briskly, always looking for signs of his enemies but seeing no one.
‘How did you get this number?’ Petrenko asked.
‘How do you think?’
A pause, then, ‘What do you want?’
‘To ask you some questions.’
‘Go ahead.’
‘Face to face.’
Petrenko laughed briefly. ‘I’m sure you do. Why don’t you meet me in the parking lot? We can go for a drive and talk in my car, about whatever you’d like.’
Victor reached the escalators. He gazed down at the concourse to where a number of cafes and eateries were clustered together. Dozens of people sat at tables drinking, dozens more walked past in an ever-moving mass. No sign of Petrenko.
Victor held the phone at arm’s length in the direction of the concourse for the count of five. At four, the announcement through the public address system stopped its broadcast. He heard Petrenko click his fingers again, this time faster, more urgently. Victor turned away from the escalators and followed the sign for the stairs.
‘I’d prefer somewhere a little further away,’ Victor said into the phone.
‘Why?’
Behind Petrenko’s voice Victor heard the dull clank of something metal. Then a few seconds later he heard the exact same sound again. Victor began descending the stairs. He wrapped his fingers around the phone’s microphone to muffle his voice and disguise the echo of the stairwell.
‘Because,’ he answered, ‘in the last ten minutes I’ve killed three of your men and it won’t be long before someone notices.’
Victor heard another clank.
‘Okay,’ Petrenko said, sounding more confident. ‘I understand what you’re saying. I don’t want the police
