I woke up first in the morning. Hungry. The room was cold, and only Agnieszka's hair on the top of her head stuck out from under the blanket. I slipped out of bed and quietly got dressed. While doing so, I realized that I had been marked by teeth and nails. I couldn't remember the exact moments, but it didn't bother me. I would have preferred to wake her up and repeat everything.

Unfortunately, it wasn't the right time for that.

I put on my jacket, in whose pocket a revolver remained, and went downstairs to the dining room. It wasn't yet seven, but the cook was already active. When she saw me, she placed two coffee pots on the table, one with coffee, the other with tea, and brought a tray with sliced bread, lard spread, a plate of bacon, and a small bowl of jam in a moment.

It was more than I expected; I thanked her and started eating.

"I see you're hungry; you always had an appetite after sex."

Evelyn also woke up early, entering from outside with a gust of cold air.

She sat at the table and began eating as I did.

"You too," I replied briefly.

Her provocative outfit from yesterday was gone, replaced by modest practicality and inconspicuousness. Inconspicuous to some extent – a neckline and long blonde hair would be remembered by any man she encountered today.

"How was she? I can smell her on you."

"That's not your business. You showered. Just now."

It wasn't worth straining my sense of smell any further.

"Why?" she asked me with a hostile look. "Why her and not me?"

"We need her. We need her help," I replied.

I didn't know why I chose such an answer, but in retrospect, I realized it was a good choice.

"You encouraged her to leave," she pointed out with a slightly better mood.

I took a big bite of bread with a generous portion of lard spread. It was fantastic. And there was a lot of it.

I used a long chew to think.

"We need her to really help us. Until the end. She must not crumble somewhere in the middle, must not leave us in the lurch."

Evelyn started eating with visibly greater enthusiasm.

"But you're quite a jerk, I wouldn't have guessed that about you."

Me neither.

Agnieszka appeared shortly afterward.

"Good morning," she greeted neutrally, sat at the table next to Evelyn, and poured herself some coffee.

I regretted not getting a welcome kiss, but on the other hand, it was probably better.

For the second round of breakfast, I repeated our tasks and ways of establishing connections. I made them both repeat it, although they didn't look enthusiastic. But it was necessary; routine and repetition are what help in stressful situations.

Suddenly, Evelyn put on an inaccessible, discouraging grimace. I took a pause because I knew she wasn't listening. A glance at the door was enough. One of yesterday's cyclists had just entered the dining room and evidently was heading towards us. However, her expression deterred him.

I returned to planning.

After a while, Evelyn looked strange again. I paused because I knew she wasn't listening. A glance at the door revealed the second of yesterday's cyclists. Heh.

Before nine, we finished the third coffee and went through all the details.

"We'll meet again when it's all over," I concluded. "For now, you'll each go to your destination, I’ll settle the bill and disappear last."

"Since when are you such a show-off?" Evelyn teased me.

In my youth, I had to save every penny, and she remembered that.

"I've acquired a few wallets lately that no one will miss," I explained.

Stolen novel; please report.

"Oh," she still had a good mood.

"She heard you," she remarked as she walked past me.

It bothered me, but I didn't do anything about it. There was nothing to do.

In a moment, I heard cars starting. Completely different from what we originally had; the deal with the sheep breeder turned out excellent.

I paid for accommodation and food, left two hundred extra, and went to pack. Before taking the rifle to the car, I tried whether the dry zippers connecting two backpacks into one were functional. They worked, but carrying thirty-five kilograms of steel on my back wasn't easy at all, even with ergonomic straps.

* * *

Based on the information from Agnieszka, I wanted to investigate a transport company located on the outskirts of Frenstat. Engaging in this during the day carried certain risks. Men of my stature simply have limited options to blend in with the crowd. However, it was on the periphery, not in the center. I decided to first check out the situation, and after dusk, if the situation seemed okay, to verify everything.

On the way to the town, I stopped at a restaurant right by the road. Not because I was very hungry, but because they advertised Free Wi-Fi. I needed to check my email inbox. Mohandas Bagh, the vampire whom I had once saved, had not yet responded to my inquiry. Maybe he hadn't found anything, but I believed he would certainly reply.

And I wasn't mistaken. In my inbox, I found a brief response. "The Osteria da Fortunata restaurant is owned by the Giuscard Clan, with Robert Giuscard as its grandmaster. He founded several mafia families, and some are still under his control. He hails from Sicily. I couldn't find out more. If you've angered him, I wish you the best of luck."

Bagh expressed himself extremely politely both orally and in writing in all circumstances. Angered – here he should have used a much stronger expression.

For safety, to avoid being easily discovered in case they managed to trace me on the internet, I logged off and drove to another restaurant. They didn't have free Wi-Fi, but luck smiled on me at the third attempt. I realized that in a country with plenty of inns, pubs, and restaurants, life was good. In Afghanistan, Angola, or other countries I had visited for work, they didn't have pubs. Back to the important matter.

Giuscard originated from Sicily, and Bagh didn't mention any other known places of his residence. In connection with what Agnieszka revealed to me about vampires, he might still be there. It was unlikely that he would unnecessarily leave Sicily, not even for me. Also, as an old vampire, he wouldn't trust modern means of communication. Especially in matters as sensitive as hiring a hitman. This meant that if he hired an external specialist for my elimination, that person, actually a vampire, had to travel to Sicily.

The contract was urgent. If the assassin wasn't extremely cautious, and he had no reason to be at this stage, he flew directly from Sicily to Prague. However, how could I find out who from Sicily had arrived in Prague in the last five days? There were two airports in Sicily, one in Catania and one in Palermo. Finding out that the direct flight to Prague only flew from Palermo took me a moment. But now I had no idea how to find out who had arrived in the last few days.

It seemed so crucial that I called Evelyn to see if she had any possibilities. She told me she would try, but she didn't expect much from it. Just to be sure, I also contacted Agnieszka, even though she came from elsewhere. The silence on the other end of the line felt uncomfortable, but she listened to me until the end.

"I'll see if it's possible to find out."

"Thanks."

I moved to the address of the shipping company and bored myself in the car until evening, watching what was happening. There wasn't much. Only two vans left the yard surrounded by a worn concrete wall the whole day. A Mercedes and a Ford, the first with low-profile tires, as if the vehicle mostly traveled on German autobahns, the second on small fourteen-inch tires for suburban transport. Neither had the company colors.

Finally, it got dark, and I could go for a pee without the risk of being seen, recognized, and the information passed on.

I used the health walk to stretch my legs. And since there was no one around, I decided not to go back to the car. The wall wasn't that high, and a few worn spots provided decent support for fingers and toes. In a moment, I was up.

Surprisingly, there was greater darkness inside than outside. No energy-saving fluorescent lights, no blinking of security systems in cars, which must have been parked here. That raised my distrust and reluctance to go down into the darkness blindly.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small night vision device. Top-notch passive optoelectronics, ownership of which by a civilian was a criminal offense, suddenly depicted the parking area as clear as day. Cars were indeed parked there, as I presumed, and three dark shadows were walking among them.

Dogs. I had no idea about them from the outside. They weren't barking. I switched the device to thermal vision. Now I saw the dogs as bright shadows with highlighted facial features. I returned to night vision and focused on the door in the wall closing off the rear part of the premises. It led to a building made of the same rough concrete as the wall I stood on.

I jumped down, the soles made a slightly louder slap, and the fabric rustled. I still held the night vision device. The dogs immediately headed towards me. Quietly. They weren't dogs, or more precisely – they had a significant amount of pure wolf blood in them. That's why they were so quiet. And precisely because of that, as soon as they ran up to me, they respectfully backed off. They sensed something in me, something they feared, something they respected. I had never thought much about it because it scared me in a certain way. I preferred to consider myself a human.

Accompanied by dancing semi-light, I walked to the door. I didn't want to use the night vision; it narrowed the field of view. Instead, I felt the door with my hands. Under the remnants of paint, I could distinguish rust flakes, the metal felt cold to the touch, but I didn't feel any moisture. Old, poorly maintained door. But the lock, that was something completely different. Smooth, perfectly machined surface, a product of modern technology.

I reached for another tool. Its ownership was a criminal offense in most European countries. It was simply called a picklock. Not an ordinary one, however. Obtaining it from military depots was more challenging than getting paperwork for a stinger missile. I placed it on the keyhole and slid it until a barely audible beep announced that the laser lens was in the right place. The lock's steel was magnetic; I could release the device without further adjustment.

Finding out the lock type and the key that fit it took fifteen seconds. It was number one hundred seventy-two. I had brought twenty lock blanks with me. I inserted number twelve into the hole on the back of the picklock, waited for the next signal from the device, and then pressed the button with a long stroke with all my strength. This provided internal energy to the mechanism, and it cut key number one hundred seventy-two from lock blank number twelve. With only an electronic lock, it was much simpler, without the need to work the material.

And I was inside.