‘Yeah, I’ve got the money.’
‘Then there’ll be no problem. Good luck with everything. I won’t ask what you’re going to do with the gun.’
‘That would be vulgar too,’ I told him. ‘I’ll give you a warning though, Archie. Between friends. If anything goes wrong, I’ll hold you responsible. And I know where to find you.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it, dear boy,’ he replied, sounding grievously wounded, but in my experience it’s always best with criminals to appeal to their self-interest rather than their good nature, since without exception they tend to act with the former in mind.
‘Good,’ I said, and ended the call, wondering exactly what kind of products it was that Marco had been smuggling for Archie’s so-called business people. Drugs? Women? Guns? Whatever it was, it wouldn’t be harmless. And that was the thing with even the most genial of criminals (and Archie was by some distance the most genial I’d met): they were still always prepared to do the wrong thing for material gain, and not give much, if any, thought to the human cost involved.
That meant I couldn’t entirely trust him, so I was feeling a little nervous as I waited for Marco’s call. I was also hungry, so I headed out of the hotel and through Baščaršija Square, which was heaving with an unusual mix of Western, Chinese and Gulf Arab tourists, and with far more burkhas on display than I’d been expecting. The smell of spices and Middle Eastern cooking was in the air, and the tall, thin minarets of the mosques rose into the sky, giving the place a strongly Islamic feel.
However, as soon as you were through the bazaar, everything became Westernized again, with flashy-looking designer shops set between bars, nightclubs and restaurants. I found a place near to the old cathedral that had outside tables and, rather than go native, I ordered a large Sicilian pizza with a beer. I was halfway through the pizza and most of the way through the beer when the phone rang.
There was no one within immediate earshot so I took the call. ‘Marco?’
‘Yes, that is me,’ answered a heavily accented voice. ‘And you are Ray, yes? I understand you want to buy one or two things. It’s best we meet, I think. Whereabouts are you?’
I wasn’t going to give him the name of my hotel so I suggested we meet at the fountain in Baščaršija Square. ‘I can be there in twenty minutes.’
‘I’m out of the city at the moment,’ Marco told me, ‘but I can get you what you need. Why don’t we meet there at nine p.m. tonight, and I’ll take you to where we can pick up the item?’
I’d wanted to get the transaction over with well before nightfall but I didn’t see I had much choice. ‘OK. I want something good and reliable.’
‘I can get you that. It will cost two thousand euros because of the nature of the transaction, and you will need to bring it with you.’
‘I also need some papers in a certain name to help me set up a bank account.’
‘I can organize that too,’ he said, ‘but first we’ll deal with the other item. I’ll see you at nine.’
I went back to my pizza, thinking that Marco had sounded very smooth on the phone. Too smooth.
Like anyone who’s suffered a huge childhood trauma combined with a catastrophic loss of trust, I have a built-in antenna for danger, and in the back of my mind I could hear an alarm sounding.
I was going to have to be very careful.
56
Six hours later, I was standing at the fountain in the middle of the square. I’d spent the afternoon and evening wandering the city. It was surprisingly beautiful. I visited a mosque, a synagogue and the cathedral, marvelling at the way this city had united after coming close to being torn apart in that horrendous civil war. I’d also visited the genocide museum where I’d discovered that although Muslims made up the majority of the population, there were plenty of Serbs and Croats living there too, and everyone appeared to muddle along pretty well. What was nice was that there was no sign of animosity. The city had a laidback atmosphere.
The square was very busy, thronging with both tourists and locals. In the background, the call to prayer rang out, and I closed my eyes, taking in all the sounds. When I opened them, a man in a suit with an open-neck shirt and visible gold chain had appeared beside me. At first glance, in the near darkness, he looked pretty ordinary – if you excused the chain, which was as thick as an old-fashioned toilet pull. Short dark hair, early forties, medium height and build … but straight away something felt wrong about him. It was as if he made the space he occupied slightly darker by his presence. His eyes were cold and his smile was both ingratiating and calculating.
‘Marco, I’m guessing,’ I said.
‘Good to meet you, Ray,’ said Marco, giving me what he thought was a subtle look up and down as we shook hands. ‘Come with me.’
We started walking through the crowds in the direction of the main bazaar.
‘Where are we going?’ I asked.
‘Obviously we cannot make the transaction here,’ he said. ‘The people we are buying from operate out of a building not far away. They have a variety of merchandise. You can pick what you need.’
I felt uneasy. I didn’t like being unarmed and carrying a large amount of cash in a strange city where I was having to put my trust in the local
