Incitement by David Graham Page B

start preparations and let me know when we’re ready to review.”
    Larsen watched the three bodyguards get out of the car and scan the immediate vicinity. Once Bajo, the enormous bodyguard, was satisfied he leant back into the rear of the car
to give the all-clear to Dobroshi. The four men entered the lobby of the apartment building and left the driver to start circling the district until the appointed time. Larsen was satisfied after
two weeks of surveillance that the information had been solid.
    The traffickers lived like kings, enjoying the very best Prague had to offer. The judiciary were in their pocket. They flaunted their extravagant lifestyle, secure in the knowledge that no one
could threaten them. It hadn’t been difficult to find a disillusioned narcotics officer who had finally had enough. A generous supplement to a modest salary was all it had taken. Detailed
reports of the main traffickers’ movements were produced and, based on them, Larsen had chosen Nisret Dobroshi as the target.
    Dobroshi kept a beautiful young Czech girl in the upmarket apartment building and got away to visit her as often as work and domestic arrangements permitted. The two subordinate bodyguards
always waited in the lobby while Bajo ascended the stairs with his charge. Larsen knew from previous reconnaissance that Bajo waited in the hallway outside the apartment. He took a deep breath and
exhaled, finding a calm centre. In many ways this was the pivotal operation, more risky than anything that had gone before, but if he succeeded it would tip the scales. He focused, moving himself
to a place where he would be able to do what was required.
    “We will train you, harder than you ever believed possible and teach you all there is to know about weaponry and tactics,” the drill sergeant told them.
    The sixteen new recruits stood on the tarmac at Flyvestation Aalborg as the driving rain beat down on them and the incessant wind howled. Although the sergeant spoke loudly they had to
strain to hear him as the gusts whipped his words away. “Many of you have had extensive training already. We will add our experience to help mould you,” he continued. “But all of
this will count for nothing, if you lack one thing.”
    The recruits stood rock-steady, eyes firmly locked straight ahead.
    “Can you tell me what this thing is?” he asked one of them.
    An uncomfortable pause then the nervous attempt at an answer. “Courage?”
    The sergeant snorted dismissively and turned on his heel, pacing away from them. Coming around to face them he delivered the answer. “Willingness.” The sergeant let it sink in
before continuing. “Most individuals will split every challenge they are faced with into three categories. Things they’re happy to do, things they do not want to do but are willing to
suffer and finally those things they would never consider,” he explained. “Like a traffic-light, green, yellow and red. If a person is willing to attempt something, really attempt it,
with every fibre concentrated on success, this is green. But if he perceives it to be too dangerous, too far beyond his capabilities or if he merely makes a half-assed attempt to save face, he is
in the red zone.” He scanned the line, examining individual recruits.
    “Many people will say with total conviction they could not kill another human being. Put these same people in a position where someone is threatening their child and watch what
happens. What’s changed? Their willingness to act! Circumstances have conspired to push their green zone far beyond its perceived limits.”
    A smile broke across his craggy features.
    “We will repeatedly put you in situations where you will become accustomed to diminishing that red zone. We will challenge you, again and again. Most of you will not last. Those that
do will understand all about willingness.” He nodded, almost to himself. “Those that do will be Jægere.”
    This was green.
    Using the key he had