This is one of those books that I've had sitting on MtTBR for a long time, so I was very pleased to finally get a chance to pick it up.
From the Blurb:
Vuk has swapped identities so many times in order to survive that he can no longer see himself as anything other than a highly efficient killing machine. His victims, however, hardly get to see him at all, and by then it's too late. They're already dead.
Opening Lines:
Franji Draskuvic, writer and philosopher, was a happy man. He was well-pleased with himself and his carefully tended beard, with the late summer sunshine in which his fine city of Zagreb looked as lovely as a young maiden, and with the fact that the powerful new Croatia army had finally driven back the fucking Serbs out of Krajina.