JF05 - The Valkyrie Song (4 page)

‘Tell me, Goran,’ said Knudsen. ‘Are you sure you’ve got everything tied up at your end? I mean on the distribution side. I heard that you had problems with some of your competitors.’

‘Not any more. Any problems there had been were all dealt with before we first talked. I told you at our first meeting that I was totally in control of the distribution network. And I still am. I had to arrange for a few people to retire from the business. Permanently. Unfortunately I had to be more
discreet than usual, so it all proved a little more expensive than expected.’

‘You hired an outsider?’ asked Knudsen.

Vuja
i
ć
didn’t answer for a moment. Instead he sipped his beer, keeping his gaze on the tall Dane as if weighing up how much he could trust him. Vuja
i
ć
knew that Knudsen was rich. Well connected. Everything about him had checked out. But Vuja
i
ć
had fought in war; often in wars where he had no place to be fighting. For the Serb, experience had taught him to divide men into two clear groups: fighting men and the others. Just like women were divided into the ones you’d fuck and old women. Knudsen bothered him: he was late forties, maybe early fifties, but there was no softening about him; none of the angles had been dulled by the good life. But there again, maybe that was just down to membership of an expensive gym.

‘You know I have a partner … another partner,’ Vuja
i
ć
said at last, leaning forward and lowering his voice conspiratorially. This was clearly not even for Zlatko’s ears.

‘Yes, your other partner …’ Knudsen frowned. ‘I still don’t like it, Goran. I mean, not knowing who this third party is.’

‘But it doesn’t affect you, my friend. My business with my other partner has nothing to do with what we’re doing here. Just like you don’t know anything about them, they don’t know anything about you. Different businesses. I supply your pharmaceutical needs, while I’m a sort of recruitment consultant, you could say, for my other partner.’ The Serb laughed at his own in-joke. ‘And anyway, yours and mine is more of an equal partnership. Substantial as our little enterprise here is, it would be peanuts to my other associate. We’re talking about a big fish. A really big fish. They play a much bigger game than you or I do, Peter. And for stakes beyond even your reach.’

‘And what is their game?’ asked Knudsen.

‘Not drugs, if that’s what’s worrying you. Like I say, I
supply them with …’ Vuja
i
ć
ran his hand over the close-cropped bristle on his scalp while he considered the best description ‘… workers. And if I knew all of it, which I don’t, I couldn’t tell you about it. Anyway, as I was saying, I needed to sort out some difficulties with competitors. My other partner knows a contractor. The best in the business, apparently.’

‘A hit man?’

‘Yeah. Or maybe a hit woman, if the code name is anything to go by.’ Vuja
i
ć
leaned even closer; lowered his voice more. ‘The Valkyrie. But what woman would be capable, huh, Peter? This so-called Valkyrie is based in Germany. Hamburg, apparently. He – or she – is supposed to be the best contract killer in the world.’

‘Better than the Mexican?’ asked Knudsen.

‘Carlos Ramos? Last I heard he’d quit the business. But yes. At least as good, maybe better. I mean, I could take care of things myself. God knows I took care of a lot of things back home in the nineties …’ Vuja
i
ć
cast an eye over his shoulder as if to check that Zlatko could not hear him, then he turned back to the Dane. ‘But this little exercise needed a little more finesse, if you know what I mean. So, this Valkyrie took care of all of the loose ends. Made most of them look like accidents or suicide. The cops are only looking into two of them. Really nice work. Tidy. Anyway, the important thing is that you don’t need to worry about the distribution side.’

‘Okay,’ said Knudsen, ‘if you say so, Goran. Are you ready?’

‘I’m ready …’ Vuja
i
ć
turned and nodded to Zlatko. The huge Croatian bodyguard laid a computer case on the deck table in front of Vuja
i
ć
, who took out a slim black laptop. The Serb tapped on the keyboard and the secure bank website opened up on the screen. ‘Isn’t Bluetooth wonderful?’ He grinned.

Knudsen beckoned to the blonde girl. She folded a wrap around herself, came over to the men and handed Knudsen a cellphone. Knudsen made two calls: both brief.

‘My contact has taken delivery of the merchandise,’ he said and handed the phone back to the girl.

Vuja
i
ć
closed the laptop. ‘And the transfer of the funds has been confirmed.’ He grinned at the blonde girl again, his eyes penetrating the diaphanous wrap and following the curves of her body beneath. ‘Maybe now we should celebrate. Now we can party. You want to party, honey?’