Running will only make them give chase, and I'm smart enough to know by now that this is just Popovic fucking with me. Back in Russia, I never had this much trouble. Cops just don't care about petty sales going down like this. what they want is the big shark, the head dealer—the guy I get my shit from back home. The fact that I'm being harassed by cops so much tells me the corrupt politician knows my moves ahead of time and he's setting me up for failure.
It's better to stay here and spin a believable story than to run and make myself look guilty.
"Stay calm," I tell the men in a low tone. "Let me handle this."
Four cops approach with their hands resting on their tasers. The one in front is older with gray hair and tired eyes. He speaks first. "Good evening, gentlemen. Can I ask what you're doing here?"
"Hello, officer, my friends and I were just selling my car." I gesture toward the street where no car is parked. "We met the buyer here to complete the transaction."
"Do you have paperwork for the sale?" the second one asks, eyeing me and glancing around as if by some miracle he will make my already sold vehicle manifest itself.
"Ah, no, sorry. It was a cash transaction." I pull the money from my pocket and show him. "The buyer already left with the car."
"That's a lot of cash to be carrying." The officer steps closer as he narrows his eyes on me and then asks, "Do you have identification?"
I reach slowly for my wallet and pull out my passport and visa documentation. He takes them and studies each page carefully while the other cop pulls Jovan and Nenad to the side to speak to them. I glance at them, but I can't look too worried. Keeping my poker face is the best move. I don't want to get into a shootout with cops.
"Russian citizen?" The officer looks up. "What brings you to Serbia?"
"Tourism, mostly." I meet his eyes without blinking. "And a wedding… I met someone."
"Your visa expires in nineteen days." He hands back my documents. "When do you plan to return home?"
The question confirms what I suspected. Miloš sent them here. This isn't a random patrol. This is harassment. As far as he knows, I've done nothing wrong at all. I'm merely standing on a street corner with my friends. I'm gonna make Popovic pay for this.
"I actually applied for temporary residency." I tuck my passport back into my jacket. "My wife is Serbian and we're very happy here."
The officer's eyebrows rise. "You're staying?"
"Yes, I told you I got married." I pull out my phone and show him a photo of the marriage certificate. "Isn't my wife beautiful?" I flick to a photo I took of Danica while she was eating breakfast one morning this week. It's not extremely flattering, but I'm glad I have it.
He examines the photo and hands my phone back. "What's your wife's name?"
"Danica Petrovic-Gravitch." We never discussed if she'll take my name, but hyphenating the two makes sense and lends credibility, in my opinion. "She's at work right now."
The officer makes a note in a small pad. "And where do you live?"
I give him the address and watch him write it down. My skin is crawling but I keep my expression bored and annoyed. My men look annoyed too, and I wonder what sort of questions they're being asked.
"This is a dangerous neighborhood for cash transactions." The officer closes his notepad. "You should be more careful. Robbery's common here, especially after dark."
"I'll keep that in mind." I nod toward the phone. "Thank you, Officer. We aren't sticking around."
The man eyes me warily and then says, "Maybe you should call your wife to pick you up. We'll wait to make sure you get picked up safely."
This prick is really pushing my buttons, but I can't seem to get annoyed with him. I clench my jaw and nod at him before I pull my phone out and dial Danica's number. She answers on the fourth ring with a nasty tone and she sounds rushed.
"What is it?"
"I need you to bring a cab to Makedonska Street." I turn away from the officers. "Near the corner with Kneza Miloša."
"I'm working." Her tone could cut glass. "Call someone else."
"The police are here and they want me to call my wife." I lower my voice. "Come get me right now."
There's a long pause as she thinks this over, and the wise girl she is she huffs and grunts, "Fine. Give me twenty minutes."
She hangs up, and I turn back to the officers and give them my best apologetic smile. "She's on her way."
