Dushan dropped Bracic in the city centre and then drove to the car rental depot. There was a chance, however slim, that the police might have found out about Gervaise Armande arranging the SUV hire and they had no other option but to use the SUV, so Dushan had been tasked to recon the rental agency, looking for signs of the depot being watched by the police.

 

Finally satisfied that there was nothing untoward, Dushan called Bracic on his cell phone, letting him know that the coast was clear. Ten minutes later a taxicab drew up and Bracic headed into the agency office.

 

Within minutes, he was driving the rented SUV out of the depot, turning towards the city. Dushan stayed behind, watching for any sign of Bracic being followed. Nothing untoward presented itself and Dushan switched on the engine, pulling out into the street and heading after Bracic.

 

The SUV was parked three blocks ahead and Dushan slowed the jeep, letting Bracic pull out ahead of him.

 

Still looking for signs of a car tailing them, Dushan switched the radio on. The rain and cloud had cleared during the night and the day was warmer and brighter than any in the preceding week. It's A Kind Of Magic was playing on the radio and Dushan sang along softly.

 

Gervaise Armande had given Ljiljana good news, as well as more concerning news, the night before. The school rooms in Lubikje were well on their way towards completion. The village school children were painting a mural on one of the walls…

 

He smiled at the thought; letting his memories drift back briefly to the happier days of his own childhood.

 

The traffic lights ahead changed to red. The car in front of Bracic managed to skip through, but Bracic stopped and Dushan drew to a halt behind him, reaching into his jacket pocket for his cigarettes. Pulling out a cigarette, he lit it, dropping the lighter and the half-empty packet onto the seat beside him.

 

If the schoolhouse was going to be wind and water-tight by the first snows, it would be ready for the Spring term… The children could give Grandma Suvici back her house, although Dushan had a feeling the old woman would miss them so much she would end up helping out at the new school. There were so few children, compared to before, but five new babies had been born in the last two years… The schoolhouse would be full again in no time at all…

 

Something caught his attention and, frowning, he turned the radio down.

 

Sirens. Police sirens.

 

Stomach lurching, Dushan forced himself to stay calm, realising that the sound was still a few streets away. He checked the mirrors, though, just to make sure, but there was nothing: no flashing lights…

 

Ahead of him, the traffic lights changed and he put the jeep into gear, bringing his foot up on the clutch as Bracic pulled away ahead of him.

 

Dushan heard the squeal of brakes before he saw the black van that jumped the lights and careered through the intersection. He saw it all in slow motion; saw the cloud of black smoke from the van's tyres, watching the van start to turn… but it was all too little, too late…

 

The van smashed into the SUV, the driver's side, slamming it sideways, pushing it round.

 

Dushan screamed Bracic's name, already reaching for the door handle, the jeep engine stalling with a lurch. Opening the door, hitting the road running, Dushan raced across the intersection towards the wrecked cars, heading round to the passenger side of the SUV.

 

He pulled on the door handle, but the door was either jammed or still locked. Other people were running towards the wreck. Dushan turned, opening his mouth to yell for help. There were two policeman already there, either side of him, one catching his shoulders and gently, but insistently, drawing him back, assuring him that they had everything under control, that the ambulance and fire services were on their way.

 

Dushan started to protest, trying to get back to the SUV, to Bracic, but the policeman resolutely placed himself between Dushan and the wreck, moving him calmly, but determinedly, backwards.

 

More police cars were arriving. The sound of sirens was deafening. A crowd was beginning to form.

 

Panic began fluttering in Dushan's stomach, rising up into his chest, driven by his anxiety to get to Bracic and the inherent danger of being in such close proximity to so many policemen…

 

In sudden, sickening clarity, Dushan realised what he had to do. In only a few minutes, the policeman herding him away from the wreck was going to be asking questions, asking him to make a statement about the crash, asking for his name and address…

 

He had no option but to leave Bracic. He had to leave him behind and get to Ljiljana…

 

Looking round, finally taking in the scene with a soldier's eyes, Dushan realised that he would have to leave the jeep too. There was no way he was going to be able to get it out of the tangle of abandoned police cars without being stopped and asked for a statement.

 

Stepping back into the gathering throng of onlookers, Dushan wrenched himself away from the accident scene and Bracic, melting into the crowd. He forced himself to move slowly until he reached the corner of the next block. Then he took off at a run, heading for the apartment and Ljiljana.

 

~*~

 

"AeroKrajin is pleased to announce the departure of flight AK Three Five One to London, Gatwick. AeroKrajin ask all First and Business Class Passengers to now proceed to Gate Eleven…"

 

Dino Scarletti and Miroslav Vilaslavevic stood up as the announcement continued. Miro held Julia Thorne's coat for her and she slipped her arms in.

 

"You're sure you've got everything?" Dino asked with a smile as Julia lifted her cabin bag.

 

"Scared I might come back to get it?" she asked him with a smile, assuring him, "I promise you that I packed everything. And I thank you both again for coming to see me off, even though there was no need…"

 

"Terry," Dino contradicted, "would have my ass if I let anything happen to you…"

 

"Making sure I actually leave the country and get out of your hair, you mean!" she shot back.

 

He grinned at her, saying nothing.

 

"Thought so," Julia concluded with a grin. Turning, she kissed Miro on the cheek, "You and Marja will keep in touch, won't you? I want lots of pictures of those darling children of yours!"

 

Miro grinned, placing his hand over his heart, "I give you my word, we will write often and send many pictures."

 

Julia nodded, turning back to Dino, "And you know I'll only end up being a royal pain in the arse if you don't keep in touch…"

 

She sobered, touching his arm, "There's always a place for you in my home, Dino. Don't you dare stay in a hotel when you're in London! Especially if Henry's home. He's awfully keen to meet you…"

 

Dino nodded, his voice sincere as he admitted, "That might be sooner than you think…"

 

She smiled at the glint in his eyes. "Luthan Risk deserve everything I think you're going to throw at them!" she told him. "I just wish I could be a fly on the wall…"

 

"I won't be missing and hitting it, that's for sure," he promised her.

 

"Damn good show! And now," she went on, lifting her bag and hoisting it onto her shoulder, "I'd better get off…"

 

"Your boarding card and passport," Miro said, handing them over.

 

She took them, looking from him to Dino. "Thank you… Thank you for everything…"

 

Miro took her hand, kissing it gently. "It has been a pleasure, dear lady," he assured her, "for my wife if not for my bank account!"

 

She laughed, shaking her head, throwing her arms around him and giving him a quick hug.

 

"Call me when you reach London," Dino told her as she let Miro go.

 

"I will," she assured him. "I promise." Swallowing, she glanced down at her ticket before looking back up at her ex-husband's American friend. "Bring him home, Dino…"

 

Without waiting for him to reply, she turned and walked away towards the gate. Miro and Dino both watched as she paused briefly to have her boarding card checked, then disappeared through the door

 

~*~

 

Ljiljana answered the door, dread stabbing through her as Dushan all but fell into the hallway, gasping for breath, his face flushed. She dragged him upright, pushing him against the wall, steadying him as the door closed, letting him catch his breath before barking, "Report!"

 

"Bracic!" Dushan gasped, dragging in lungfuls of air as he told her, "Bracic… There… There was an accident! A van ran the lights! It… It hit him! There… There were police everywhere. I… I couldn't help… I left… left the jeep and… ran here…"

 

Ljiljana took the news in, shouting for Micah, turning back to Dushan. "Where?" she demanded. "Where was the accident?"

 

"The lights… at… Bulevar Andrica and… and... Goribasina…"

 

Dushan had run almost three miles…

 

Micah appeared from the living room, immediately realising that something was terribly wrong. "What?'" he asked. "What is it?"

 

"There's been an accident…" Ljiljana began. "Bracic…"

 

She trailed off, looking round at Micah, "See what you can find out!"

 

"I'm on it!" he told her, heading back into the living room to turn on the police radio.

 

"Dushan," Ljiljana demanded, turning back to the younger man, her mind already running through all the possibilities, "Was this deliberate? Were you followed?"

 

Dushan was shaking his head. "No… No we weren't followed… We… I… I heard the sirens, but we couldn't tell from where… The lights turned… Bracic pulled off… It… It came from nowhere…"

 

He was beginning to shake.

 

Ljiljana swore, slapping his face, barking, "Front and centre, soldier!"

 

Dushan gasped, snapping to attention, military training falling immediately into place. Ljiljana looked at him, her manner curt, but her eyes concerned.  "Are you with us, Dushan?"

 

He blinked, looking at her, then nodded, swallowing hard. "Yes… Yes, Ma'am…"

 

"Good. Now I need to know what happened. Exactly what happened! Were you recognised? Were you followed?"

 

Dushan closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and a moment to think before answering, "No. The rental pick-up went fine. It was all ready and waiting. Bracic was only inside long enough to pick up the keys. We weren't followed, I swear we weren't."

 

"Good," Ljiljana told him, touching his arm. "Then what happened?"

 

He took another deep breath, "We had stopped at the lights. I could hear sirens, but we couldn't tell where from. The lights changed and Bracic pulled off. Then… a black van jumped the lights… It smashed straight into Bracic… the driver's side too."

 

Another memory floated back. "The police had been chasing it… There were three police cars…"

 

He looked at Ljiljana, "I… I didn't wait to see if he was injured… I just ran back here…"

 

"You did the right thing," Ljiljana assured him. "It was more important for us to know. There was nothing you could have done…"

 

She could see from the look in his eyes that he didn't believe her. Reaching out, she cupped his cheek in her hand, assuring him, "If you had stayed you would have been recognised and arrested and we would still be oblivious to what had happened. You did the right thing…"

 

"Boss?"

 

Stomach lurching, afraid of what Micah might be about to tell her, Ljiljana turned, looking at him.

 

"Bracic is being taken to hospital," he supplied. "There's no details of how badly injured he is, but they had to cut him out. They haven't identified him yet, but they're already contacting the rental agency. The driver of the van is dead… The police tried to stop him for a routine check. He took off, that's why they were chasing him…"

 

Anger at the driver's idiocy blending with concern for Bracic's safety, Ljiljana nodded, telling him, "Keep listening out… and get Dushan some coffee…"

 

She turned, resting her hand lightly on the other man's arm, "Go with him, Dushan…" she ordered gently. She needed time to think, to sort things out.

 

Dushan moved numbly, following Micah as he headed through the living room to the kitchen and put the coffee on to boil. Slumping onto the sofa, Dushan reached for a packet of cigarettes and lighter. Lighting one, tossing the packet back on the table, taking a long, calming draw on the cigarette, ignoring the fact that his hands were trembling. 
 

In the kitchen, Micah stared at the coffee pan, relieved and concerned at the same time. Relieved that Ljiljana was here to make the decisions, but concerned about how badly injured Bracic might be.

 

Ljiljana sank onto the stairs and sat, unmoving, for a long time, sorting through the options that were left to them now and working out the best way forward; wondering out how she was going to get them out of this without risking them all ending up in prison cells.

 

Finally, Ljiljana pushed herself to her feet and walked into the living room. Dushan was sipping coffee, a burning cigarette sitting in the ashtray on the table in front of him. Micah was sitting at the kitchen table, holding headphones to his ear. He put them down as she looked at him.

 

"Take Dushan," Ljiljana told him, "and go home…"

 

Dushan sat up abruptly, ignoring the coffee that spilled over his hands, protesting, "No!"

 

Ljiljana looked at him. "Dushan," she began, her voice calm, full of confidence, "This is over… Without Bracic, this is over."

 

He started to protest, but she held up a hand, silencing him, continuing calmly, "Dushan, you are twenty-four years old. You have your whole life ahead of you. Go home, fall in love with a good woman and have babies. This part of your life is finished…"

 

Dushan shook his head, muttering under his breath.  Ljiljana looked over at Micah then back at Dushan, "You both have access to the money. Do what you can with it to help the villages…"

 

Dushan said nothing, sinking back against the sofa, his face sullen. Micah nodded in acknowledgment of her request then asked softly, "What about you, Boss?"

 

"I will take the Lieutenant to the American…"

 

Dushan bolted upright, coffee spilling over his hands again. Micah looked at her, incredulously. "You can't!" Dushan protested. "They will arrest you!"

 

She looked at him, a small smile on her face. Nodding, she told him, "Perhaps… but we, all of us, knew what we risked..."

 

"Boss…"

 

"You have your orders. Now," she went on, ignoring any further protest, "we must get ready… The police may already be setting up road blocks to stop us leaving the city. Micah, make sure the American is still in the same hotel. Then let our friends in the mountains know what is happening."

 

Micah had seen Ljiljana in this mindset only twice before and knew that it was useless arguing with her. The decision had been made. Her orders had been issued. Micah nodded and picked up the phone.

 

"Dushan," Ljiljana ordered, "come with me."

 

She turned as he pushed himself to his feet, heading out of the door behind her towards the stairs. Ljiljana climbed them slowly, wondering what to tell the Lieutenant, deciding that he deserved the truth.

 

Unlocking the door, she went in, Dushan staying in the door.

 

Terry looked up, immediately sensing trouble, wondering what the hell had gone wrong. Standing slowly, he asked, "What's happened?"

 

Ljiljana looked at him for a long moment then told him, "You're going home, Lieutenant…"

 

Terry frowned, tilting his head, not having expected to be released quite so soon, "They've paid the ransom?"

 

She gave a short, cynical laugh, shaking her head, "No..."

 

She saw the quickly hidden apprehension that flashed across his face. She had no need to explain anything else to this man. All she had to do was give him orders and ensure that he obeyed them… but that had never been the true nature of their relationship. He was more than simply a hostage.

 

Fear made people do unreasonable and unexpected things and the last thing she needed now was for Thorne, or any of the others, to get seriously injured during an escape attempt that could be averted by simply giving him more information.

 

"Do not worry," she assured him. "We are not going to put bullet in your head, Lieutenant...   You are going home…"

 

Terry, swallowed, confused, looking from her to Dushan and back, as what little hold he had over his position evaporated. "What's happened?" he asked again.

 

Ljiljana closed her eyes. There was little point in keeping the truth from him. For one thing, he would be more inclined to cooperate if he knew what was going on. "There has been an accident," she told him. "Bracic…"

 

Icy tendrils wound themselves through Terry's stomach. An accident?

 

Fear flared as he watched her. The self-assurance was gone.  Any plans that they'd had were blown to bits and she was thinking on her feet. For the first time he recognised a vulnerability in her that hit him hard. He realised, suddenly, that despite all his training, despite his resolve not to get involved with his kidnappers, he had become involved. He liked Bracic. Bracic was a decent bloke… At any other time they might have been friends… The same went for the young lad, Dushan…

 

Swallowing hard, Terry asked, "Is… Is he..."

 

"Dead?" Ljiljana supplied, lifting her head, looking at him. "We do not know. The car was hit by a van. He has been taken to hospital. That is all we know."

 

Totally at a loss, completely confused by the emotions coursing through him, Terry Thorne made his first error of judgement since he'd been kidnapped almost four months before. He stepped towards her, reaching for her, wanting to comfort her, to tell her that Bracic would be all right.

 

Ljiljana reacted, her instinct misinterpreting the movement.

 

Almost before Terry realised what she was doing, the Makarov was in her hand.

 

Adrenalin spiking, Terry stepped back, trying to dodge the backhanded blow that swung towards his head. He almost succeeded. The barrel of the Makarov scraped his temple and he fell backward, the bed breaking his fall, but sending him rolling onto his belly.

 

He ended up face down on the floor, hands trapped uncomfortably beneath him, Ljiljana's knee in his back, her handgun pressed into the base of his skull.

 

"Stupid!" she hissed at him, "Stupid!"

 

"Boss!"

 

Something in the tone of Dushan's voice dragged her attention away from the Lieutenant. She looked round at the younger man. He had his handgun trained on the Lieutenant, but his eyes were on her.

 

"He meant no harm," Dushan assured her in Slavakrajinan. "He wasn't trying anything! He meant no harm!"

 

He took a step towards her, willing her to believe him, handgun still trained on the Lieutenant. "He wasn't trying anything…"

 

The calm authority in Dushan's voice quelled the slight flutter of dread in Ljiljana's belly. She blinked at him, looking back at the Lieutenant, swearing softly as she recognising her mistake. Flushing in embarrassment, she stood up carefully, slipping the safety catch back into place on the Makarov.

 

On the floor, Terry heard the click. Relief flooded through him and couldn't stop the small noise that escaped from his throat as he let out the breath he had been holding. He wasn't shaking, but the rush of adrenalin and the glancing blow to the head had left him feeling weak and slightly woozy. Strong hands caught hold of him, helping him to turn over and sit up against the bed.

 

Dushan crouched down, long fingers gently probing the bleeding wound on the Lieutenant's forehead. "Is not deep," he announced, finally, "but you have black eye for going home, I think. I get first aid…"

 

He stood up, looking across at Ljiljana, his eyes asking her if she was all right. She nodded, once, and Dushan turned, heading for the door.

 

Ljiljana slipped the Makarov back into the waistband of her fatigues. She refused to be embarrassed by her actions, even if she had over-reacted. And she resolutely refused to meet the green gaze that she knew was watching her.

 

Hiding her discomfort, she moved, skirting round the Lieutenant, heading over to the wardrobe in the corner of the room. Pulling the key from her pocket, she unlocked it, opening the door and reaching in, bringing out a clothes hanger over which hung the dark blue suit, white shirt and regimental tie he had been wearing on the evening they had abducted him from the hotel.

 

Closing the door, she turned, walking across to him, laying the suit out on the bed. "You will need these…"

 

He said nothing, simply looked at her, blood oozing from the cut on his head. She waved her hand at the cuffs around his wrists, "Dushan will be up shortly to undo those…"

 

"Thank you," he told her softly.

 

She turned away, suddenly afraid to look into his eyes: heading out of the door without another word, locking it behind her.

 

 

ON TO PART 15

 

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