Rusim needed a drink so they stopped into a local bar. The Moreni was built out of stone and varnished wood in the style of a chalet and stood next to a carpark and bus stop on the main road. A handful of punters sat at their tables drinking, talking, or playing Four Square. A giant of a man with a black moustache stood behind the counter.
Rusim ordered a vodka for himself and a lemon soda for Zdravko. “Ever seen this man?” he asked holding out a photo of Gjoeb as the barman poured his drink.
“Not recently,” deadpanned the barman in a voice deeper than hell.
“Maybe a year or two ago?”
“Never seen him.”
Zdravko and Rusim sat at a table apart. Two men who looked like they might have owned the place sat talking in the corner. Or maybe they owned the whole mountain. One thing for sure, one of them owned the Bentley parked outside.
“We’re missing something up here,” said Zdravko.
“Maybe,” said Rusim as he pulled the phone out of his breast pocket and took a call. “We’ll see,” he said, putting the phone in his other hand. “Go,” he told the phone. After that he just listened or mumbled assent. “Run a check of furniture removal outfits around the time the power was cut. And let me know how the ID check on the video’s going,” he said finally and clicked off. He looked at Zdravko and said: “The power was turned off two weeks before Gjoeb’s sentencing. Nothing from customs. Nothing from the bank.”
“I like this guy already,” said Zdravko.
Rusim knocked back his vodka and looked over at the bar. “Gjoeb’s got a lot of cash.”
“In which case he’s gone.”
“In which case he had a double identity before he went inside,” said Rusim stroking his beard with the upside of his fingers. “Robert isn’t even a Hungarian name,” he added.
“Hungarians are wierd,” said Zdravko.
“I need a smoke,” said Rusim.
They got up and walked out to the smoking area, collecting Rusim’s new drink from the bar on the way. Outside, the afternoon was contemplating an even more fantastic version of itself. Zdravko walked up to the railing and stood looking at the mountains. “This is just too beautiful,” he said as Rusim finished lighting his cigarette. “Makes me want to go to sleep.”
“You can drive,” said Rusim.
