27

The room was spinning in front of her eyes. In her ears the blood was roaring, and her whole body felt sore, especially her neck.

‘What on earth happened, sweetie?’ Tanja knelt beside her and took her hand.

‘Did you see him?’ Milena croaked.

‘The nutter? He almost ran me over.’

‘We have to go after him.’ Milena tried to get up.

‘What the hell’s going on?’ Tanja helped her up. ‘Who is that guy?’

‘He was standing here. Right here! I went for him, we struggled, I wanted to make him drop the gun.’

‘Gun?’

‘He had a pistol. I thought he was going to shoot.’ Milena was close to tears.

‘Slow down.’ Tanja put her arm around her shoulder. ‘You’re in shock.’

Milena opened her bag and started to rummage through it, as Tanja helped her over to an easy chair and said, ‘Now tell me the whole story.’

‘We’ve got to call the police.’

‘One thing at a time. What happened?’

Milena stared at her phone. It had turned itself off. She quickly recounted what happened. How she’d got into this room, and how the guy had been sitting in the corner. The man from the club where she’d gone searching for Goran Valetić. She had confronted him with everything that she’d planned to face down the minister with, all her conjectures – and then he’d pulled the gun on her.

‘Thank goodness you called my name out in the hallway.’ Milena got up. ‘You saved me.’ She slung her bag over her shoulder. ‘We have to go to Božović.’

‘And then what?’ Tanja didn’t move.

‘We’ll ask him who that guy is who threatened me.’

‘And you think you’ll get an answer?’

‘What do you suggest, then?’

‘Call the police?’

Milena opened her compact mirror. ‘OK, you win. What are we waiting for?’

‘But you have to bear in mind: a scandal like this would destroy the party, and the papers would be full of it tomorrow. Wouldn’t that jeopardise your investigations?’

‘Good question.’ Milena wasn’t so sure anymore.

‘I’ve got another option,’ Tanja continued. ‘I’ll take you home and we’ll consider our next move in peace and quiet. And, if I’m honest, I want Siniša to be there too. What do you think?’

Milena stared over at the desk, and the plan showing the two elevations with their curious areas of cross-hatching, and found herself at a loss what to think. She found it hard manoeuvring herself; she turned into a passive lump, whom Tanja took by the arm and gently steered towards the door.

As they reached the entrance hall, there was a sudden burst of applause. The audience cheered and whistled. Slobodan Božović bowed to Rozana Smija like a subject in front of a queen, and kissed her hands. If Vera ever found out that Milena had been close enough to her favourite singer to touch her, and yet she had returned home without an autograph… she’d never forgive her.

‘Are you leaving already?’ Božena was fanning herself with a little card. ‘The fun’s only just beginning.’

‘I know, I know, we’re two party poopers,’ Tanja said. ‘We’re old ladies who are unfortunately very tired. Shame, as it’s such a splendid party.’

‘And,’ Milena chipped in, ‘we’d naturally like to say goodbye to your husband.’

A flushed Slobodan was standing, with his tie undone and his shirt collar open, next to Rozana, who had just launched into her number-one hit and was encouraging the minister to swing his hips in time with hers – something he was actually managing to do quite well. People were clapping along to the music, which was booming out of the loudspeakers at full volume.

Božena blanked Milena, put her hand on Tanja’s arm and shouted, ‘I have to tell you something!’

Tanja signalled as if to say ‘I’ll catch up with you’, and Milena stepped outside onto the exterior stairs, leant against the balustrade and took a deep breath.

The dark silhouettes in the garden were the men of the security detail chatting up the cloakroom girls. The service team were lugging around baskets full of china. What a complete disaster the whole evening had been.

The bicycle was still leaning against the wall of the house. Milena heard whispers coming from somewhere. She leant over the railing and noticed in that moment how the side seam of her trousers was coming undone, with the split on her hip visibly widening. Just then, someone came up the steps behind her.

‘Good evening,’ said Milena.

‘Hi,’ Marco nodded, and hurried past.

‘I just met this guy,’ Milena called after him, while readjusting her jacket. ‘Mr Natty, that’s what you call him, right?’

Marco put up his hands. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t have time right now.’

‘Marco, we’ve got to talk.’

He looked over his shoulder as if he were afraid of hidden cameras. ‘Not here,’ he whispered.

‘Of course.’ Milena turned around. ‘No problem. When would suit you? Tomorrow? I’ll take you to lunch.’

‘I’ll call you.’ Marco quickly pushed the door open and disappeared.

‘You’ve still got my card?’ Milena called after him.

The gravel beneath the stairs crunched. The bicycle had disappeared. Its rear light flashed briefly on the path to the garden gate for only two or three seconds before disappearing round the corner.

‘Sorry about that.’ Tanja had suddenly appeared next to her. ‘Sometimes Božena’s like a little child. You’ve always got to act like she’s the most important person on the planet.’

‘The guy who threatened me…’ Milena murmured. ‘I think he just left on his bike.’

‘There you go.’ Tanja dangled a portrait of Rozana in front of her face, a postcard with an extravagant signature and a crudely drawn heart underneath. ‘That’s for you.’

Milena sighed ironically. ‘Oh, thanks a bunch. So the evening was worth it after all.’

On their way back to the car, Tanja took Milena’s arm again and tried to placate her. ‘Hey, look at it this way,’ she said, ‘now at least you know your theory holds water. Kosovan Albanians, pent-up national hatred – nonsense! There’s something else completely behind the old couple’s murder. Otherwise, the guy wouldn’t have reacted that way.’ Milena said nothing in response. Even if that were the case, the real reasons behind it were contained in the material that the old man, Valetić, had put together. His diligence had probably cost him his life. And now his son was walking around with the suitcase. Milena didn’t like to imagine what might happen to him. She steered the car towards the kerb and came to a stop directly opposite the stairs which led to Tanja’s house.

They arranged to speak on the phone the next day. ‘Sleep well,’ said Tanja, giving her a peck on the cheek as she got out. Before she closed the door, Milena leant across the passenger seat and asked, ‘By the way, what did Božena want to tell you so urgently?’

‘Forget it.’ Tanja bent down one more time towards her. ‘Božović is planning to buy a house, somewhere downtown, a pretty little palace. Which only goes to show once again what kind of connections Serbian politicians have. Still, I hope it’ll work out for them, otherwise I’ve got a problem.’

‘How come?’

‘A project like that would keep Božena occupied for a while. Otherwise, come the autumn she’ll check into my clinic again, saying “I’m bored, do something please”. But what else is there left for me to do? Her tits again?’

When Milena parked her car outside her own house ten minutes later and unlocked the front door, she noticed her tension slowly easing, only to be replaced by an unease gripping her stomach. Fiona purred around her feet. Quietly, Milena took off her shoes and walked down the corridor in her socks.

Adam was asleep. She carefully straightened out his duvet, extracted the comic book from under his hand, kissed his forehead and turned off the light.

In the kitchen, she tidied away the television listings magazine on the table and placed the signed photo of Rozana Smija next to the flower vase, where it would be clearly visible. There was something written on the back. A dedication? Milena held the photo up under the lamp.

‘Sorry. One day I promise I’ll explain everything. Marco.’