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imagine.’
    ‘Your German’s excellent,’ Georg said, taking two steps closer. ‘But you’re not German. What are you, American?’
    ‘Sometimes,’ he answered.
    Lines deepened in Georg’s forehead. ‘You’re really not what I was expecting.’
    ‘You said that once already.’
    ‘Let me explain myself.’
    Victor brought the cup to his lips and swallowed.
    ‘In my line of work I meet all kinds of people, all different, but what I get for them tells me a lot about who they are. Let’s take you, for example. You don’t have to say what you do for a living as what you’re buying might as well be a business card.’
    Victor remained stationary and silent. He didn’t know where Georg was headed, and he didn’t care, but it seemed polite not to interrupt.
    ‘I’m not sure what the correct euphemism is these days but I’ve dealt with your kind before,’ Georg continued. ‘Not often, but more than a few times. And when I have I’ve always been able to analyse that person completely within seconds of us meeting. It’s not difficult. They try so hard to make out they’re fearsome when they’re actually not, else they really are that scary and they don’t need to try.’ She paused. ‘But you’re neither.’
    ‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’
    ‘I’m not sure I meant it as one.’
    ‘I’ll still take it as a compliment.’
    Georg stepped closer and stared hard at Victor. Her eyes were bloodshot, pupils dilated. On something stronger than just nicotine. ‘I’m really not going to find out who you are, am I?’
    ‘No,’ Victor said. ‘And you wouldn’t want to.’
    ‘A shame.’ Georg sighed and perched herself on a crate and used a hand to wipe something from her jeans. ‘Let’s do some business.’
    Victor nodded. ‘I take it you have all the goods on the list.’
    Georg counted off on her fingers as she said, ‘Russian army blasting caps, nine-millimetre pistol with threaded barrel, silencer, pick gun, and fourteen pounds of cyclotrimethylenetrinitramine with the bits to make it go ka-boom. Did I pronounce that right, by the way?’
    ‘You did,’ Victor assured. ‘I want to check everything.’
    ‘Of course, my boy, I would have expected nothing less. You’re a professional, after all.’ She drew out the words. ‘But so am I. And I’d like to see the money first.’
    With his free hand, Victor slowly reached into an outer pocket. He did so while closely watching what the muscle and the guide were doing. There were no tension-relieving gestures, no shifting of weight, nothing to suggest they were waiting to put a pre-planned course of action into play when he showed he had the money. Satisfied this wasn’t an ambush, Victor withdrew the slim bundle of hundred-euro notes.
    Georg dropped down from the crate and inched closer. She stared at the money. ‘That doesn’t look like enough to me.’
    ‘It’s half of it.’
    Georg’s eyes rose to meet Victor’s. She spoke quietly, menacingly. ‘Then you’ve not only wasted my time but insulted me. And neither is a very wise move for a man in your position.’
    ‘After I have the goods you can come with me to pick up the rest of the money,’ Victor explained. ‘Or send one of your men to do so.’
    ‘That’s not how I do business.’
    ‘And ferries, empty warehouses and guards with forty-fives aren’t how I do business,’ Victor countered. ‘This is the price you pay for how things have been conducted thus far.’
    The muscle touched a hand to his gun. His expression was half-surprised, half-annoyed. Georg considered for a few seconds.
    ‘What’s to stop me taking that money and having the location of the second half beaten out of you?’
    The guide and the muscle both stiffened in readiness for what might follow.
    Victor kept his gaze locked on Georg. ‘One, you’d lose a valuablefuture customer. And two,’ he said, voice calm, emotionless. ‘I’d kill you and your men inside ten seconds.’
    The muscle didn’t