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goods.’
    ‘Put the money on the table,’ said Uzi.
    ‘Open the bag,’ said Andrzej.
    Uzi reached into his rucksack and pulled out a spliff. Then he tossed it on to the table and sat back.
    ‘Why the hurry?’ he said. ‘Have a puff. Free sample.’
    This seemed to slacken the atmosphere. Andrzej rested his cigarette on the edge of the table and lit the spliff. The Poles handed it around.
    ‘I’m not going to lie to you, Tomislav,’ said Andrzej, ‘this is some good shit you got here. Some good, good shit.’ Evidently, he was the only one who ever spoke.
    ‘Yes,’ said Uzi, ‘you’re going to have a great party.’
    The men eyed him warily as Andrzej produced a thick envelope. Upon seeing it, Uzi removed the stash from his bag and put it on the table, without letting go. He felt strangely relieved to have emptied the rucksack. Andrzej moved to take the stash, but Uzi held fast.
    ‘Not until I’ve counted the money,’ he said. ‘I’m sure you understand.’
    Andrzej pursed his lips and made a generous gesture with the spliff, leaving loops of smoke in the air. Then he dragged on it and exhaled exaggeratedly. The other men laughed. Uzi opened the envelope. It took him a long time with one hand. What an amateur, he thought, what a fucking amateur. Lost my edge.
    ‘Come now, don’t be so wary,’ said Andrzej in flowery Russian. ‘You are amongst friends here, Tomislav.’
    Uzi took his hand away from the stash and counted the money quickly. His head was fuzzy and he had to start again. When he looked up, Andrzej was cradling his stash.
    ‘This is only nine hundred,’ said Uzi. ‘We agreed a thousand.’
    ‘A hundred here, a hundred there,’ said Andrzej casually. ‘We are aiming for a long-term relationship. There’s no need to be petty. Next time we’ll pay you more. When we have full confidence.’
    His companions laughed.
    ‘We agreed a grand,’ said Uzi, knowing that this was a test of his gullibility; if he gave in now, they’d rip him off for ever. ‘A grand or no deal.’
    ‘You should be grateful for the money,’ said Andrzej. ‘One thousand is too much. As you know, you could buy a herd of cows for this on the steppe. Maybe two herds.’
    The Poles laughed again.
    ‘Don’t fuck with me,’ Uzi said. ‘I’ve got a business to run.’
    ‘It’s only a hundred pounds.’
    ‘I don’t care. Don’t fuck with me.’
    ‘Don’t be a prick, Tomislav Kasheyev.’
    ‘Fuck your mother.’
    ‘What?’
    With a single movement, Uzi snatched the stash and got to his feet, backing towards the door. The men rose too. One of them spat. Uzi threw the money down and pushed his way into the restaurant. It was busier now, and he almost collided with the waitress as he dashed into the street. His heart was beating and he couldn’t escape the feeling that he needed another spliff. Part of him was relishing the adrenaline. It had been a long time.
    As soon as he turned a corner the Poles were there. They had taken the back exit and doubled back. Bastards, he thought. He had given them back their money, but that was not enough. They walked towards him, illuminated by the bloody sun which was beginning to die behind the houses.
    ‘Tomislav,’ called Andrzej, smiling, ‘there was no need to be impolite.’
    Uzi felt the old coldness spreading through his body, shining out of his eyes, and suddenly he was hyper-alert. They couldn’t allow him to insult them, just as he couldn’t allow them to rip him off. He stepped into the middle of the road, drawing them out where he could see them. In his mind’s eye he saw, from fifteen years before, the mock street with the wooden men that would pop out to be shot; his training was kicking in, and that meant danger. There were no snipers on the roofs, of course there weren’t, why would there be? It felt strange being unarmed, not even a knife. Reckless. No backup, of course not. The streets were strangely deserted. He was ready to die. His shirt was