Zagreb Cowboy Read Online Free PDF

much.”
    “Thanks.”
    Della Torre picked up the pack of Strumbić’s Luckys and lit himself another cigarette.
    “Help yourself,” Strumbić said. Della Torre ignored him.
    “So what happened? Why’d those yokels want me dead? And what I don’t want to hear from you is ‘I don’t know’ or ‘Because your name came up on a list.’”
    “Like I’m going to be smart with a man who’s got a gun in his pocket. It is a gun, isn’t it?”
    “No. It’s an Italian silk tie.”
    “I’ve got a dozen of those. Can’t wear them around the office, though. People start asking where the hell I can afford silk ties from. Which is also why I’ve got to drive that VW of mine around town.” Strumbić, in fact, had two VW Golfs, exactly the same colour blue and with sequential licence plates. One was always hidden in his Zagreb garage so that his neighbours wouldn’t snitch. The amount of effort Strumbić devoted to hiding his wealth kept della Torre entertained.
    “Nice Golf. I can’t afford one.”
    “Course you can’t. Still, I’d rather get more use out of the Beemer. Now that’s class. Problem is, too many people get jealous when they see you with nice things — cars, watches, girls. Then they start making trouble. And that’s just the wife.” Strumbić laughed at his own joke.
    “Julius —”
    “Okay. Okay. I know you’re tense; I’m just trying to lighten the atmosphere a little. It’s like this. I’m up here for the weekend minding my own business, and these three Bosnians come driving up in this big brand-new Mercedes with fifteen thousand little storm troopers in an envelope wanting to set up a surprise meeting with you. Who am I to say no?”
    “Julius. I’m not playing this game. I’m too tired to play this game. I’m going to shoot you in the kneecaps. First one and then the other if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”
    “Fine. That’s fine, Gringo. But let’s just establish the ground rules first.”
    “Ground rules? You’re sitting in a chair with a pair of handcuffs behind your back. I’ve got a gun that wants to be used. You’ve just set a bunch of killers on me. What the hell sort of ground rules do you have in mind?” Della Torre was finding it hard to keep control of himself.
    “I understand your unhappiness with the situation, Gringo, really.”
    “Unhappiness? What the hell —”
    “Yelling won’t do either of us any good.”
    Della Torre hung his head for a moment, holding it with his right hand.
    “Julius —”
    “All I want to say is if you want honest answers you have to promise me something.”
    “What?” della Torre asked through gritted teeth.
    “That at the end of this inquisition you do not seek to exact revenge. That we part company with fond memories of a long friendship, for the most part a mutually advantageous friendship.”
    “I’ll tell you what, Julius. If you give me an honest account, I won’t shoot you. I may just lock you in this cellar for a little while, until I can make sure you’re not lying. When the time comes, I will call your wife and get her to get you out.”
    “That’s harsh, Gringo. I don’t deserve that.”
    “I’m petty that way.”
    “Okay. Doesn’t matter anyway. My girlfriend will probably come looking for me first. I hope. But if I’m really lucky I’ll get to wait until the end of the week, when the guy comes to check the vines. He’s got a key. Hey, I’ve got at least four hundred litres of wine and about three pigs hanging off the ceiling. If you bring down a carton of smokes and a loaf of bread from the house, I’ll be all set. There’s some cushions back there for the benches. I’ve had worse beds. I’ve got a couple of westerns down here and the radio. What more could a man want? Be a proper holiday, it will. I’ve been needing some time off.”
    Della Torre marvelled at how Strumbić could keep his cool. Yet there was an edge to his insouciance, della Torre could feel it.
    “So we’ve got