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capital and the opportunity to make some money. You thank me by trying to rip me off. Then you hire a couple of goons so you don’t have to cough up a single cent. Were they worth it?”
         “I didn’t have time…the money was tied up in cars and…”
         Nygren slapped Mara on the back of the head.
         “You haven’t made a single payment in over a year. Don’t give me that shit.”
         “There must be some mistake. My accountant…”
         Nygren whacked him again and he fell silent.
         “If there’s no accounting, there’s no accountant either. Save your stories for the tax auditor.”
         Mara’s white-brick house was on the south-facing shore of a lake. The house had at least 3,500 square feet. Nygren surveyed the property.
         “So this is how a plain honest car salesman from the heartland of Savo lives.”
         “It’s my wife’s house…and the kids’.”
         “On paper, you mean.”
         Mara opened the garage door. There was ample space for two cars and a small red sports car was parked in one of the stalls.
         “That’s my wife’s.”
         Mara’s confidence was beginning to return. They’d let him live, he thought.
         As Nygren looked him in the eyes, Mara tried to smile to no effect. He endured Nygren’s stare for a moment before turning away.
         “The instant they look away, you can see right through ’em. Only for about a tenth of a second, but if you’re sharp, it’s enough.”
         The door to the house opened and a forty-something woman peeked out. After seeing the shape her husband was in, she hurried to his side.
         “What has happened to you? You is alright?” she stammered in a heavy Russian accent.
         “We had a little fire,” Nygren said calmly.
         “Have you been to doctor?”
         “Tatjana, go inside. Everything’s fine.”
         She regarded Raid and Nygren with suspicion.
         “There is something wrong?”
         “No. Go inside.”
         She wasn’t fooled.
         “Something is wrong. I call police.”
         “You fucking will not. Get inside, woman!”
         Accustomed to the more Slavic conversational style, she obeyed immediately.
         Mara slid the desk aside. Behind it, built into the brick wall, was an opening covered with a piece of particle board. Mara bent down and pulled out a metal box. He put it in his lap and nearly dove inside.
         “Twenty thousand even,” said Mara as he snapped the case shut. He tried to squirrel it back into the hole as though all was settled but Nygren snatched it away.
         “We’re not in that much of a hurry.”
         The box contained some more money and a black booklet. Nygren briskly counted out the money.
         “Another twenty-grand. I’ll take that too.”
         “No, you fucking won’t…”
         The futility of Mara’s words sank in as Nygren leafed through the booklet.
         “You seem to be doing pretty well. According to this you have a few hundred grand in Spain. I’ll take this as a keepsake. If the rest of the money isn’t in my account by the deadline, the tax auditor’s gonna have some interesting bathroom reading material.”
         Mara made an attempt at humility.
         “Please, I guarantee you’ll get your money…just don’t take the ledger. It’s no use to you. I use it every day. Some of my cars are on loan, and my debts are in there… I’ll give you something extra. You want a new car? What about your friend? I can arrange something…”
         “If it weren’t for your lousy memory, I might consider it. But you tend to forget those pesky details like paying debts. Anyway, I already have a car.”
         Nygren slipped the ledger into his pocket.
         Mara clenched his teeth, but remained silent.
         “You know the account number. We’ll be waiting for you to