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glass. “Natalija was a creature straight from hell,” he explained. “She was happy to see me. She wasn’t afraid of my gun, much less the look of hatred in my eyes. She embraced me and whispered words of love in my ear. The same exact words that Sylvie used. Her voice was identical, even the way she caressed my back was the same. For a long moment I believed that she was my woman. I’m just lucky that Christine took care of wiping her off the face of the earth.”
    â€œWe’ve always been puppets dancing on Dini´c’s string.” I’d been wanting to talk about this for a while, and now was the time. “Maybe because she was a woman, maybe because she was a clone of Sylvie, but we’ve never been clear-eyed and determined in our fight against her.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œTwice now you’ve aimed a gun straight at her, and both times you failed to pull the trigger.”
    â€œThe first time it was Sylvie who asked me to kill only her husband.”
    â€œAnd you knew perfectly well that killing her man at the altar as the two of them were swearing their undying love in the presence of a patriarch would inevitably lead to all this. We could have spared ourselves years of pointless suffering.”
    He sighed. “You’re right. What do you want me to do? Say I’m sorry?”
    I grabbed his arm and squeezed it hard. “Don’t even think of it. But now you get back to Sylvie and do your best to make things right.”
    â€œFirst we’re going to have to make a withdrawal. We’re out of money, Marco.”
    â€œWhose turn is it this time?”
    â€œA jeweler in Avignon. The proprietor is a fence and a police informer.”
    I snorted. “He deserves it but that doesn’t make it any less dangerous,” I said as I stood up. “I can’t take this cold anymore. And I’m hungry.”
    â€œWho do you think has the run of the kitchen this time, Max or Christine?”
    â€œI’d bet on the woman from Marseille.”
    I would have won, too. With a clean apron and a pair of oven mitts she hardly seemed like the woman who just a few hours earlier had eliminated one of the unquestioned queens of the Serbian criminal underworld.
    A pork roast and baked potatoes with sour cream. Rossini waited until the food and the red wine had to some extent alleviated the tension that had built up; then he thanked Christine. “I’ll always be grateful to you for what you did.”
    She stood up and planted a kiss on his forehead. “It was a real pleasure to murder that slut.”
    Beniamino wrapped her in an affectionate embrace. “I’d still be standing there in a daze, with no idea what to do,” he confided without embarrassment.
    Luc raised a glass. “Here’s to victory, and to the end of this war.”
    Max followed suit. “Here’s to Sylvie, and here’s to all of us.”
    Â 
    The following morning our tiny army broke ranks. There was no longer any reason for it to exist. Beniamino and the couple from Marseille left for Avignon by train, Max went back to Italy, and I headed for Ninon.
    I was almost certain that she’d give me the heave-ho but I needed to be with a woman, I needed to share a little affection with someone, share the routine of everyday life.
    When I walked into the Tip Top Bar she was talking with a supplier and pretended not to notice me. The two regular customers greeted me with sympathetic smiles. I sat down and started leafing through a sports paper, waiting for the moment to approach the bar and receive the harsh treatment I certainly deserved.
    At a certain point I realized that she was staring at me, her lips twisted into a sneer of contempt. I steeled myself and stood up.
    â€œ
Ciao,
Ninon.”
    â€œWhat are you doing here?”
    â€œI need a little advice,” I said, taking a stab in the dark. “It’s too cold out to go