The Nameless Ones by John Connolly
Chapter XXV
The Vuksan convoy, now reduced to two cars, had paused at the Raststätte Donautal in Passau, just northeast of the Austrian border. There the men sat outside eating German sausage and fried potatoes, and drinking pilsner beer, all except Radovan, who kept himself apart while he made a call to the lawyer Anton Frend. The two men spoke for fifteen minutes, but although a lot of information was communicated, neither took notes. When they were done, Radovan made a second call, and this time wrote down an address. He then removed the SIM card from his phone, destroyed it, and replaced it with another.
Spiridon wiped the grease from his fingers as his brother returned to the table.
‘What does the lawyer say?’ said Spiridon.
‘Through intermediaries, he has found us a place to stay,’ said Radovan. ‘I felt it would be better if he did not know the exact address.’
‘Did he object?’
‘He suggested I send him a signed declaration to that effect, just in case anyone came asking, but I think he was joking.’
Radovan did not really believe that Frend would turn a blind eye to their location, because it was not in the lawyer’s nature to deny himself knowledge. Still, the pretense would serve its purpose.
‘You and he are too close,’ said Spiridon.
‘So you never tire of telling me. Had I listened to you, we would have hired a Serbian lawyer, and he’d probably be dead by now.’
Zivco Ilić and Luca Bilbija turned their heads away, finding new sources of interest in the passing traffic and dull buildings. They were by now so used to the brothers’ bickering that they were able to tune it out or reduce it to white noise, but it was wise to make their lack of curiosity obvious.
‘Frend is your lawyer,’ said Spiridon, ‘not ours.’
‘I didn’t realize there was a distinction.’
‘I did,’ said Spiridon, ‘a long time ago.’
Radovan let the argument go. When his brother was in this mood, persistence only encouraged him. Radovan glanced at the nearer of the two cars, where a small figure sat unmoving in the back seat.
‘Has she eaten?’ he said.
‘She said she wasn’t hungry. She may have scavenged food from Dražeta’s kitchen while we slept. She has her ways.’
‘Aleksej told me that Dražeta’s wife got up during the night,’ said Radovan. ‘Perhaps she fed her.’
‘What of it?’
Spiridon’s tone was sharp, for him. He was always defensive about the girl. It was tiring. No one had ever suggested that there was anything improper about the relationship, or not within earshot of Spiridon. Unnatural, yes, but that was another matter.
‘Nothing,’ said Radovan. ‘It was just an observation. We should be going. Vienna is still three hours away, and I’ll feel safer once we’re there.’
He had been against stopping, but the men had wanted to use the restrooms, and then hunger had gotten the better of them. There were too many people here, too many strangers, and Belgrade was watching for them. They had been reduced to the status of prey, hiding from the light.
Spiridon signaled to the others, and they began to walk to the cars. It was left to Radovan to clear the debris from the table. Spiridon stared back at him.
‘What are you doing?’ he said.
‘Look around you,’ said Radovan. ‘See all the law-abiding Germans and Austrians disposing of their waste? If we wish to remain unnoticed, we must behave as they do.’
He divided the litter and food waste between the appropriate containers, and arranged the the glasses and trays.
‘We are not like them,’ said Spiridon, as his brother fell into step beside him. ‘And we never will be.’
‘Small details will betray us,’ said Radovan.
‘No,’ said Spiridon, ‘only small men.’