Trafika Europe 2 - Polish Nocturne

“For God’s sake, don’t wave the knife around. I’ll take it off . . .” I raised my hand toward my beard and trusted myself to my luck. I had practiced the move many times, and I was quick enough. Petri’s menacing expression vanished when he saw the Glock in my hand. “Scissors beat paper, and guns beat blades. Fine with me to chat, but I pose the questions. Santa’s not taking wish lists right now.” Of course my gun was not loaded, but how would Petri know that? He evidently hadn’t the slightest idea whose sack I was bagging prey for.

“Drop the knife. Hands clasped behind your neck. On your knees. Santa expects respect.”

Slowly Petri obeyed.

I kicked the knife to the side and demanded, “How’d a boy with clean papers like you and Merja Salo-Virtanen get mixed up with Jansson’s gang? Who joined first, Paula or Veli-Pekka?” “So you don’t know the whole story?” A glimmer of hope flickered in Petri’s eyes but dimmed when I held the gun closer to his temple.

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