The Nameless Ones by John Connolly

Chapter LVI

Frend broke the news about the accounts to Radovan Vuksan over the phone. Frend was very glad that circumstances necessitated his remaining isolated from the Vuksans, because this was not information that he would have cared to deliver in person.

‘What about the bankers?’ said Radovan. ‘Why didn’t they protect us?’

Frend thought it was unlike Radovan to be so naïve, but then, he was distressed. One of the problems with using crooked bankers – or rather, bankers who were more crooked than the norm – was the obvious: their essential dishonesty. They would always buckle under the right kind of pressure. But faced with Interpol on one side, and what might well have looked like a perfectly legal series of transfers to accounts in Serbia on the other, perhaps even the bankers were not entirely to blame in this instance. Frend endeavored to explain as much to Radovan, but he was not in the mood to listen. Frend permitted him to vent for a time before pointing out that he had managed to move some funds to secure accounts: not as much as he would have liked, but sufficient for their needs over the coming months.

‘What needs?’ said Radovan. ‘Bread and water?’

‘The position is not quite so grave as that.’

‘Is that really what you think, Anton? If so, I fear you may not have been paying attention. In fact, my brother may be of a similar opinion when I tell him that his war chest is now empty. He will be looking for someone to blame, and you’re nearer to hand than any banker.’

Frend waited. He was good at waiting. All lawyers were, if only because they charged by the hour.

‘Are you done, Radovan?’ he said, once blessed silence had reigned for a while.

Radovan sighed. ‘Yes, Anton, I am done. I apologize.’

‘There’s no need,’ said Frend. ‘I understand the pressure you’re under.’

For a moment, Radovan was tempted to share with him the fact of Gavrilo Dražeta’s murder. In the past, Frend had acted as a sounding board and source of good counsel, but also as a release valve for Radovan. They were close, he and the lawyer: Frend by name, friend by nature. Yet Radovan was also a good judge of people, and knew that Frend was already scared enough. Informing him that another hunter was closing on the Vuksans might well break him.

‘Work on getting us out of Europe,’ said Radovan. ‘Quickly.’

‘What about Spiridon?’

‘I’ll deal with Spiridon.’

‘What you require will cost money, more than you have to hand.’ Frend did not offer Radovan a loan from his own funds. Even had he that kind of cash, which he did not, its disappearance from his accounts might draw attention later, especially if everything ended badly for the Vuksans. But it was also poor practice: lawyers did not lend money to clients.

‘Don’t worry about the money,’ said Radovan. ‘There are ways.’