The Pale House (30 page)

“L
eave us, Bunda.”
ignored the crestfallen look on Bunda's face, waited until he had left, then gestured to a chair. “Sit,” he said, his fingers moving again, and he rolled a pair of red dice onto a tabletop. “It has been a long time, Reinhardt.”

Reinhardt took a long, slow breath. This day seemed to be getting longer and stranger the older it got. “You're The Gambler.”
inclined his head. “You're in charge of the city's security now.”

“You are well informed.”
stirred the dice with his fingers, rolling them softly across the table.

Reinhardt shrugged, keeping his eyes on the UstaÅ¡a. “Know your friends . . .”

“Know your enemies better.”
smiled. It did not reach those flat eyes. “Are we your enemies, Reinhardt?” he asked, scooping up his dice.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, we did not part on the best of terms, last time. I admit that. And now you return, two years later, and you start where you left off.” Reinhardt said nothing. There was something here to be seen or heard, that was clear, and Reinhardt was content to let this conversation spin out the way
wanted it to.

“A drink, Reinhardt?”
turned to a wooden cabinet of dark, carven wood, opening it to reveal a jumble of bottles. “What will you have? Let's have a rakija!”

Reinhardt wanted nothing to drink, and wanted nothing less than to raise a glass with
, but he remembered how sensitive people in the Balkans were about their hospitality. “A slivovitz, then.”

“Good choice. I've a nice homemade one in here . . . somewhere,”
said, hunching into the cabinet and clattering bottles aside. “
Evo, sprska rakija!
Here! Say what you like about the Serbs, they make the best slivo.” He handed Reinhardt a glass of clear plum brandy. “Cheers!”

“
Živjeli
,” Reinhardt answered.

guffawed, and they both sipped. The brandy was very good, dangerously so, a smooth, tidal flood from his mouth right into the pit of his belly.

“To your promotion,
.” The UstaÅ¡a smirked his thanks. “What triggered that?”

“Actually, it was your old friend and partner, Reinhardt. Padelin. Remember him? You were bad news for him, you know. After you left, he changed. Sort of went into hibernation and came out a different man. Began to take his work seriously. Much too seriously. So seriously, he became a liability, right at the time when we needed unity around us. So when a group of us were offered promotion into the UstaÅ¡e, we left him behind. We'd had enough of the police by that point. There was nothing happening and no way to get ahead. Anyway, Padelin ended up making such a nuisance of himself he got himself purged by
. Not long ago, in fact.”