THE PRICE OF FREEDOM

PART TWO:

Seven hours after leaving Ian Havery’s office, Dino Scarletti had set up a base of operation in not just the same hotel, but the same room that Terry Thorne had occupied until he had been kidnapped. He’d considered going to another hotel, but instinct was telling him that he needed to be as close as he could to Terry, that there might be something he would see that had been missed by the police.

Mood sour, he stood by the window, nursing a scotch, looking out at the city as the sky darkened.

There had been a copy of the ransom demand, sent to the Australian Embassy, waiting for him when he’d arrived at the hotel. There had also been a police report, which had helped explain a little more of the mystery surrounding Terry’s disappearance. The report concerned two Swiss women.

Blondes, Dino thought absently. Why wasn’t he surprised that they were blondes…

The women had met Terry in the hotel bar the night he went missing. They said that he’d been relaxed and friendly, that he’d bought drinks, chatted for a while, excused himself to go to the bathroom and simply never returned.

That, unfortunately, added a hint of doubt into Dino’s theory that this hadn’t been an opportunistic attack…

The galling thing, the thing that really stuck in Dino’s craw, was that it could all have been avoided. Luthan Risk had deliberately sent Terry into an area where he had been previously compromised. That mistake was going to cost them a hell of a lot of money, but more importantly, it was potentially going to cost Terry his life…

And Terry wasn’t the first operative to be affected by bad decision making on behalf of Luthan Risk. Dino knew of at least three other occasions where K&R negotiators had been left to swing in the wind… which was why he was getting out.

He’d already been considering it, tentatively approaching other agencies, but this last stunt was the final nail in the coffin. This was his last job for Luthan Risk. Once this negotiation was finished he was resigning, and for their sakes they’d better hope that Terry Thorne was returned unharmed.

The phone rang, dragging him away from his reverie. He reached for it, answering, “Hello?”

“Mr Scarletti?” the receptionist’s soft, lilting voice began, “I have a policeman here, an Inspector, wishing to speak with you...”

“Put him on,” Dino told her.

He heard the sound of the phone being handed over then a deep, male voice announced, “Mr Scarletti, I am Inspector Miroslav Vilaslavevic. I have been assigned to help you in any way I can. I have some of the information your office requested from our databases. I also have cold beer and some of my very lovely wife’s home-made piragi...”

For the first time since being summoned to Havery’s office early that morning, Dino smiled. “I have no idea what piragi is,” he told the Inspector, “but the beer sounds good and anything home-made is much appreciated.”

“Good!” the man replied. “Then I come up to you now…”

................................................

Inspector Miroslav Vilaslavevic had turned out to be a tall, broad man of obvious Slavic origin with a ready smile and an instantly likeable manner. He’d bustled in through the door, toting a huge cardboard box from which he began to produce beer, a basket of still warm and delicious-smelling rolls, and the all important information from the police databases.

Then he’d turned, offering Dino a warm handshake, introducing, “Miro… Call me Miro.” His expression had sobered for a moment as he had admitted, “Terry is a good man. I worked with him too. You and I, together, we will get him out of this, yes?”

“So,” he went on, a smile brightening his face again, “you sit, read. We will eat, drink, I will tell you everything I know, you can tell me everything you know and from there we will decide how to go! Yes?”

In the Inspector’s jovial, amiable presence, Dino had felt his mood lift and some of the weight ease off of his shoulders. Miro had opened the beer, dumped the basket of bacon and ham stuffed baking on the low coffee table beside Dino, then dropped into the chair opposite him, reaching over to hand him a bottle. “Local,” he had explained. “Good stuff.”

Then he had sat quietly, munching on his wife’s baking, washing it down with the beer, waiting for Dino to finish reading the dossier. Finally Dino dropped the file down onto the table, reached for a piragi with one hand, rubbing his face with the other.

“Not much, yes?” Miro commented.

Dino looked at him, agreeing, “Not much at all…”

“So… Now we will tell each other what we know and what we think… Then we will decide what else we need to know and I will begin attempt to get it. Money in this city can buy you any information you need…”

Dino took a swig of beer then began to go through everything he had been told. Miro listened intently: then suddenly sat forward, interrupting, “Wait… He was detained? And questioned? By army?”

Dino nodded, wondering if that was going to make any difference to Miro’s willingness to help find Terry. Ten years ago they had stood on either side of the Iron Curtain and in certain places old rivalries died hard. “They left that out of the written report I was given,” Dino told the Inspector, “My superiors informed me it was too sensitive to be included…”

Miro leapt out of the chair. Beer bottle still clutched in his hand, he headed to the phone, telling Dino, “Maybe we have something there! When do you make first contact for negotiations?”

“I don’t know that yet,” Dino supplied, trying not to give in to the glimmer of hope that Miro had lit, “The Australian Embassy wasn’t told…”

Miro changed his mind, changing track to pick up his jacket, finally releasing his hold on the beer bottle. “You wait here?” he asked Dino while shrugging the jacket on, “And I will bring information, yes? There are two units of terrorists who are all ex-army,” he explained. “They fled into mountains when army plot to overthrow government failed some years ago.”

Dino stood up, nodding, “I remember the attempt.”

Miro turned, heading for the door, “We find answers there, I think, my friend. I have feeling here!” he went on, tapping his chest before disappearing out of the door.
.............................................

The moon was slipping in and out of the clouds, alternatively bathing the area in bright light then plunging it back into darkness. Ljiljana watched the SAS Lieutenant carefully as the boat puttered softly towards the low-slung cargo coaster, berthed at the dock.

The Lieutenant was coming round, but she could tell, from the small drops of perspiration that shone on his forehead, that the negative effects of the chloroform were finally affecting him. They’d sedated him three times in as many days, so she wasn’t particularly surprised. The gentle motion of the boat couldn’t be helping either. She’d lay bets that when they finally got him into brighter light, that he’d be as white as a sheet.

Chloroform wasn’t sophisticated, but it was almost instantaneous and it didn’t need needles or veins: which was why they had used it. Unfortunately, the side effects weren’t always particularly pleasant. The Lieutenant had had nothing to eat since they’d taken him from the hotel, though, so with any luck he would only throw up and not soil himself.

Beside her, Bracic pulled out his mobile, hitting the speed-dial. After a few moments, their contact answered. Bracic spoke to him, briefly, then on the side of the ship a torch flashed Morse code in their direction. The boat made a slight change in direction, heading toward the torchlight as Bracic switched the phone off, tucking it back into a leg pocket.

The ship loomed larger as they approached it, the lights that shone in the bridge casting the lower part of the ship deeper into shadow. Their contact had assured them that it wasn’t due to leave port until late the next night, long enough for them to provide the Australian Embassy with initial proof that the Lieutenant was alive and, for the moment, unharmed. Then, for the following few days, Micah could take over the negotiations from within the city, keeping them up to date by phone until they arrived back in port.

The skipper was throttling back, letting the boat drift in towards the side of the coaster. With a slight bump it stopped against the ship, ropes immediately being thrown up and caught by crewmen on the coaster.

Ljiljana moved first, removing her Makarov from the back of her waistband and tucking it into a jacket pocket, zipping it up before stepping up from the side of the boat, onto the metal rungs that served as a ladder. She scaled the side, accepting the offered hands to help her aboard.

Nodding silently in thanks, she stepped back, letting Dushan climb onto the deck behind her. Below them, Bracic hauled the SAS Lieutenant to his feet, steadying him as he swayed slightly. Putting one arm across his shoulder, Bracic slowly walked the Lieutenant to the side of the boat.

Ljiljana looked over the side, watching as the boat skipper came out, helping to steady the Lieutenant while Bracic fastened a harness around him. The crewmen beside her at the railing dropped the end of a rope down to the boat and Bracic caught it, threading it through loops in the harness and knotting it tightly. As the crewmen took the strain, slowly hauling the Lieutenant up the side of the ship, Bracic stepped up onto the rungs of the ladder.

He stopped half way up the side, turning to steady the semi conscious man, watching to make sure both the harness and the rope held; ready to catch the Lieutenant if anything untoward happened.

Finally, the Lieutenant’s head appeared over the edge of the ship. Ljiljana and Dushan stepped in, taking hold of him, helping him over the side and onto the deck. They untied the harness as Bracic scrambled up to join them. Then he turned, calling softly down to the skipper of the boat, who waved a salute before disappearing back inside the cabin.

For a moment, Ljiljana thought that the Lieutenant was going to be able to stand on his own. Then his legs gave way. Dushan caught him as he crumpled, guiding him down onto his knees.

Thorne made a small noise. Ljiljana recognised it and swore, grabbing his shoulders, snapping an order at Dushan. Together, they hauled the Lieutenant the small distance to the edge of the ship, making it just in time.

Sighing, Ljiljana sank to her knees, holding the Australian soldier as his stomach finally rebelled against the chloroform. Gently caressing his hair she assured him softly that the sickness would pass, talking to him throughout the waves of painful, unproductive heaves that continued even when he had obviously rid himself of what little was in his stomach.

Behind them, as Thorne threw up, all but one of the sailors disappeared. Ljiljana heard the remaining crewman telling Bracic that the Captain was still ashore and that they were still due to sail as planned.

“Everything is ready for you,” he went on. “Although, it’s pretty basic...”

Bracic shrugged and grinned, telling him, “Basic is fine.”

The two men continued to talk softly to one another, catching up on gossip until, finally, the Lieutenant’s nausea subsided and he sank against Ljiljana, sucking in trembling breaths.

Bracic turned, running a critical eye over the Lieutenant, warning softly, “Boss… We need to move…”

Ljiljana looked up, nodding acknowledgement before turning her attention back to the man crumpled on the deck in her arms. “Okay, soldier,” she told him, “time to move…”

He stayed where he was, breathing heavily.

Right now, Ljiljana wasn’t sure if the lack of reaction was defiance or genuine disorientation, but she chose to believe the latter. Standing up, she hauled on his jacket, barking, “Get up! Move it, soldier! Now!”

The order cut through the fog that blanketed Terry’s mind. He lifted his head, trying to obey the commands and push himself up. Strong hands grasped his arms, helping him to shaky feet. His stomach dissented with a small flutter. He pulled in a shuddering breath and the after-swell of nausea faded again.

Satisfied that Bracic and Dushan had the Lieutenant under control between them, Ljiljana turned to the crewman. He shot her a toothy grin, telling her, “My cousin is holding out on me! You are far more beautiful that he led me to believe…”

Bracic gasped, his eyes going wide in horrified embarrassment. “Luca!” he derided.

Dushan grinned, shaking his head. Trying to keep the amusement from showing in her face, Ljiljana quirked an eyebrow, “Really?”

Luca chuckled softly, slapping Bracic on the shoulder, announcing, “Life is too short not to appreciate a beautiful woman!”

“Or a handsome man,” Ljiljana added.

Luca’s face broke into a wide smile and he chuckled again, turning and beckoning them, telling them, “This way…”

...............................................

Miroslav Vilaslavevic banged on the hotel room door, a folder full of paperwork under his arm; then bounced gently on the balls of his feet until Dino opened the door. He grinned at the American, breezing in through the door and heading straight for the coffee table. Dino forced down the anticipation that Miro’s arrival had sparked. The Inspector had quite obviously found the information he had been searching for and his enthusiastic delight was infectious.

Miro plonked himself down in a chair, dumping the folder on the glass tabletop as Dino sank into a chair opposite. He glanced up at Dino then turned his attention back to the information. “I have my Sergeant checking on certain details I could not find. He is ex-army, has connections he can use… Now…” he went on, picking up photographs and handing them over to Dino, “for us, my Sergeant and I, she is our main suspect.”

Dino scrutinised the first photograph. The woman was striking. She looked out at him from the picture, proud in her army uniform; almost raven-black hair was pulled back severely from her face, although small wisps of curls, coiled against her temples, softened the harshness slightly.

It was her eyes, however, that drew his attention. They were virtually sky blue, bright and full of life, even in the photograph.

“Beautiful, yes?” Miro commented. “Do not let the pretty face fool you. She is Ljiljana Bukuvecs, ruthless, single-minded. Captain in this photograph, but she reached the rank of Major before army attempt to overthrow elected government. “

Dino looked up at him, “And you said she was involved in that?”

Miro nodded, “Very much. She was Army Intelligence, working closely with the Generals who planned the overthrow. But,” he went on, reaching for a bottle of beer, “here is interesting thing. As part of Intelligence duties, she was trained as interrogation specialist…”

“So she could have been the one brought in to question Terry and the other soldier…” Dino concluded.

“Possible!” Miro agreed. “Very possible. My Sergeant, he checks details for us. He will call here to confirm.”

Dino nodded, taking another look at the woman in the photograph before turning to the other photographs in the pile, spreading them out over the table, “And who are these jokers?”

Miro opened the beers, leaning over to hand one to Dino, pointing to each picture, telling him, “Lieutenant Bracic Malnar, Special Forces, sometime colleague of Ljiljana… Sergeant Dushan Vojtulek, Infantry, sniper, very good… Sergeant Micah Abramovich, Army, communication systems specialist…”

Dino quirked an eyebrow, “That’s some package to roll into one…”

Miro nodded solemnly, “Yes. Dangerous package, to be treated with caution.”

Voice heavy with self-recrimination, he continued, “A package we have been hunting for last four years without success…”

“Not surprising considering their background,” Dino consoled.

Miro made a small noise of disgust, pulling a face, taking a draw on his beer before telling Dino, “They have many friends who help them…”

He sighed, leaning back in his chair, “You know that we are democracy now, but our country almost tore itself apart? Still lies uneasily with itself?”

Dino put down Ljiljana’s photograph and sat forward with his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped, “Miro, I know what I’ve heard, but right now I don’t trust any of it. So I think we should finish these beers, open some more and you can fill me in on everything you think might have any possible bearing on Terry Thorne being kidnapped. Including what happened before, during and after the fall of communism in this beautiful country of yours…”

Miro nodded, a wisp of a smile pulling at his lips. “I very much like the way you think!”

Draining the bottle, he pushed himself to his feet, “First, I phone my beautiful wife, let her know I will not be home and also say goodnight to our babies. Then we talk…”

Dino smiled, waving him away, drawing the folder across the table and starting to read the information. A few minutes later, Miro returned, sinking into the seat opposite him. He sighed, rolling his eyes, explaining, “The little one, she cry for Papa to put her to bed...” He grinned, “She is very much Papa’s baby…”

Dino grinned at him, opening two more bottles of beer. “Long may that continue,” he told him, handing a beer across to him.

Miro saluted him with the bottle, “A toast, to my babies!”

“To your babies,” Dino toasted.

Both men took a long swig on their beers, then Miro announced, “And now to business…”

In as much detail as he could remember, he told Dino about everything that had happened in Slavakrajina since the Soviet Union had collapsed and the socialist state, that had once been his country, had slowly started to crumble. There had been free elections for the first time in fifty years, but the fledgling government had had to survive a civil war that had almost overturned it.

The civil war had almost torn the country apart, as those who wanted the return of the socialist state, battled those who wanted democracy to remain. Politics had embroiled with religion. Father had turned against son; neighbour had fought against neighbour…

The army had tried to step in, had tried to take back control in a coup that had failed; too many of their own commanders had been fearful of a return to a communist regime.

The unsuccessful coup had, at least, focused people’s attention, and galvanised them into doing something to stop the bloodshed. The two political sides had finally sat down together and started talking. The army Generals, who had organised the attempted overthrow, had been arrested and imprisoned.

It had taken another two years before the government had eventually brought everything under control and it had all died down… Mostly died down…

There were still insurgents operating freely, like Ljiljana’s group. Foreigners – mainly western – were being kidnapped and held for ransom. In many places, especially the mountains where whole villages had been wiped out not because of politics but because of religion, the feelings still ran strong beneath a thin veil of civilised democracy. Which was why it was so hard to catch those like Ljiljana: there were too many still willing to help them, especially in the areas away from the cities.

Dino listened to everything Miro had to say. Then, as Miro shrugged, telling him, “Now you know!” Dino sat forward, looking at the photographs on the table.

“So, this woman…”

“Ljiljana Bukuvecs…”

Dino nodded, “Apart from single minded and dangerous, what can you tell me about her and her group?”

Before Miro could answer, the phone rang. Dino pushed himself to his feet, crossing to the bureau to answer it. After a moment he turned, looking at Miro, asking whoever was on the other end of the phone, “When did it arrive?”

There was silence for a moment as Dino listened to the answer, then he asked, “What did the instructions say?”

“All right,” he said finally then paused before confirming, “That would be the best course of action. I’ll be waiting.”

He put the phone down, telling Miro, “An aide from the Australian Embassy is on his way. They just got a radio transceiver delivered to them. The kidnappers will be calling at eight in the morning…”

The Inspector nodded, giving Dino a wan smile, “And so it begins…”

ON TO PART 3

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