by James Samuel
"Does it matter? They are there now."
"It does to people like your father."
Ratko sighed. "We cannot keep fighting over the wrongs of the past."
"You can if that is the only viable solution for both sides."
"An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind, Gandhi once said."
"Thomas Jefferson also said, the tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants. It's natural manure."
Ratko's mouth hung half-open.
He smiled sweetly. "Sinclair isn't the only man with a brain in our operation."
A knock at the door brought a premature end to their debate before Ratko could issue another salvo. He excused himself and disappeared into the hallway.
James pricked up his ears, his natural instincts preventing him from ever relaxing when he was on the clock. He scanned for threats and ambushes everywhere. When he heard an excitable, bouncy voice of a female, he breathed slightly more easily.
Ratko re-emerged. "James, I would like to introduce you to my deputy, Nazifa Aleksi. Nazifa, this is James Winchester from England."
James laid eyes on Nazifa for the first time and got to his feet. The Bosnian woman's hair was cut into a long, messy version of a pixie cut. The ends of each strand of hair were dyed a deep, gothic purple, amounting to a colour explosion against her natural mousy brown hair.
"Pleasure to meet you." James extended his hand, which she took.
"England, I've always wanted to go there," Nazifa exclaimed.
"I think you would do fine with an accent like that."
Nazifa chuckled at the compliment.
Ratko clapped his hands together. "I suppose we should brief James on one of our current campaigns. I'll explain everything to you, James, and then maybe you can give us some inspiration."
James and Nazifa sat on the sofa and waited for Ratko to busy himself flicking through pages on one of the computers. James glanced over at Nazifa. She wore tight khaki pants and a simple blue button-up shirt. The smiling woman had a fierceness in her eyes, the colour of hot flint. James sensed there was more to her than met the eye.
"James," said Ratko. "I'll make this quick because I have things to do. Nazifa can fill in the details. Do you see this man here?"
James squinted at the screen and nodded.
"This is Tomislav Suput. A politician in the House of Representatives. He's a member from Srpska, a far-right nationalist. Making quite a name for himself in politics. You’ll find him at every nationalist rally in the country. He's also been invited to speak in Serbia many times."
"Okay."
"We want to remove him. His position within the House of Representatives gives him influence. He likes to whip the rest of the Srpska representatives to his way of thinking."
"And what have you done so far?"
"Lobbying, mainly. Or trying to dig and see if we can find something on him."
"Political espionage, is it now?" James folded his arms, an amused expression dancing on his face.
"I'm a pacifist, not an idiot. If we can find something, he would have to resign in disgrace."
"Such as?"
"I don't know. Maybe he sleeps with Jewish prostitutes? Maybe his wife is secretly a Bosnian? Who knows? These are not sins to us, but when you make speeches like he does, it would humiliate him and force him to leave his position, you understand?"
James nodded. "So, like a fanatical Christian attacking gay marriage and then pictures of his gay lover appear in the newspaper?"
Ratko laughed. "Yes, something like that. Nazifa, give him the rest of the details. I have a phone call to make. I'll be upstairs if you need anything."
When Ratko left the room, James inspected the computer screen up close. The image showed a politician with a mouth the size of a jumbo jet. His fist thrust up into the sky in mid-tirade. Nothing James hadn't seen countless times before all over the world.
"He's an animal," Nazifa said, her arm draped over the back of the sofa.
James shrugged. "Aren't most politicians?"
Nazifa gave him an adorable toothy grin. "You sound like you've seen much of the world."
"More of it than most would like to see."
She narrowed his eyes at him. "Who are you? How do you know Ratko?"
"Luck, or lack thereof, depending on how you want to look at it."
Nazifa giggled again. "Mysterious. An Englishman in Sarajevo. Do you have any experience in dealing with men like him?"
James hesitated for a moment, unsure of what Ratko would have told her about his business. He didn't even know what Sinclair had told Ratko about the extent of their business.
"I'm an expert in the removal business," he said.
Nazifa nodded. "How exciting. I like Ratko, but I'm not a pacifist."
He approached her and sat back down on the sofa. This woman had caught his interest.
"I just decided to try his way. Maybe it will work and maybe it won't, but all we can do is try, no?"
His head bobbed up and down slowly. "Do you really think you're going to find something disgraceful enough to make him resign? It could take months, maybe even years, of looking for things that aren't there.” Nazifa worked with Ratko but as yet James didn’t know what she did. “Is that the best use of your time?"
"Maybe not," she said.
"Then why don't you let me handle this? I think my methods will be much faster and much more effective. You stay here and I'll sort it out for you. Maybe it will do some good."
Furrows appeared on Nazifa's forehead. "You'll sort it out? I don't think so, Englishman."
"It could be dangerous, for both you and me."
"I was in the army, you know. Women are not so oppressed in Bosnia as you might think. Did you know we have even had a female brigadier? Like most of our active soldiers, we have never seen active service, but we were taught how to fight."
James clicked his tongue. The admission changed things, but he still couldn't judge her capabilities. If something happened, how could he forgive himself for taking her to her death?
"You don't believe me? Fine."
Nazifa hopped to her feet. Her winter boots banged across the creaking floorboards as she made her way out into the hallway. He heard a plastic bag rustling and she returned carrying a supermarket bag.
"Look inside."
James arched his head to peer inside the open bag. He ran his tongue around his dry mouth. A pistol, cleaned so well he could see the outline of his head reflected on it, shined back at him.
The toothy grin returned. "Now, what do you think?"
James couldn't help but give off a little half-smile. "You're full of surprises, aren't you?"
"Just because I have tits, doesn't mean I can't fight. If you go, I go."
"Let's do it, then."
"Just one thing you need to know about Suput." She leaned in so close he could detect the citrusy perfume on her neck. "Don't tell Ratko."
Chapter Nine
Sinclair shook his head in despair at James had just told him. A contract killing of a politician. It would bring down investigations on their heads. They were foreigners operating in the shadows. Every kill mattered. Every kill came with a risk.
James watched his friend work through what he'd told him. He leaned against the doorframe leading into the living room. A European football game played out on the TV screen in front of them, as Sinclair drummed his fingers on the arm of the leather recliner.
"Serious question. Do you do these things to be difficult? Is following the terms of our assignment really that difficult for you?"
"Are you finished?" James chewed on his piece of gum and stretched it across his tongue. "You were the one who told me to offer the White Rose my services. I never wanted anything to do with them."
Sinclair flushed. "Does Ratko know about this? I thought he was a pacifist."
"Who knows?"
"Then I'm going to call him."
"Wait, wait," James snapped. "Of cour
se, he doesn't know anything about it. This came from his deputy. She doesn't want him to know about it because you know how he would react. Nothing would ever get done if the world were ruled by people like him."
"She..."
"Yes, she." He shrugged. "Nazifa Aleksi. She used to be in the army, according to her."
Sinclair cringed. "Oh, for Christ's sake, here we go again. So, a pretty woman has winked at you and now you're on a one-man crusade. This is going to be like Jessi all over again, isn't it?"
James felt a pang in his stomach. Jessi Montoya had been part of their adventures in Mexico. He'd saved her from a drug cartel, and they had grown close to each other. They'd only known each other for a few days, but they had shared a lot. After James had had to come clean about his way of life, she had vanished, seeking a life away from everything she knew. It still pained him in his darker moments.
"Sorry," Sinclair added. "This has nothing to do with her, but in all the time I've known you, you've always had one weakness. All a woman has to do is flutter her eyelashes and you consider it necessary to ride in on your white horse."
"Maybe." James chewed on the gum with renewed vigour. "I never said I was perfect."
"That's the understatement of the year." Sinclair grabbed the remote and turned the volume down. "Our contract states that Sadik Kadrić is our target at the behest of Miran Heranda, the client. We are authorised to eliminate him and anyone who stands in our way, so explain to me how Tomislav Suput is standing in our way."
"I can't. He isn't."
"Gallagher won't like this."
James' fingers hunted for his packet of cigarettes. "Gallagher never likes anything we do, so I stopped caring long ago."
Sinclair handed him the silver plate ashtray decorated with etchings of flowers. "Nevertheless, we shouldn't be going out of our way to upset him. You know the penalties of losing this job. Both of us know too much. It would only end one way."
"We came close in Cambodia," James mused.
"Yes... we did."
"All part of the fun, though." He blew the smoke into the air. "Everything will be fine. Unless you decide to tell Gallagher, he will never know, and that's what matters. Besides, you never know what it could lead us to. The game isn't until Saturday."
"Well, I implore you not to bring the fallout back here."
"I want your help with it, Sinclair."
"Oh no. No." He shook his head. "This has nothing to do with me."
"Okay, then I'm demanding your help."
Sinclair locked eyes with James, who returned it with equal fury.
"Please."
"Fine. I'll look him up." Sinclair thrust a finger in his direction. "But just this once. If you want to go off gallivanting with the new woman in your life, you can do it without my help. From this point on, if it has nothing to do with Kadrić I don't want to hear anything about it."
James grinned. "Thanks, Sinclair, I always know I can rely on you."
The intelligence agent lifted a dismissive hand, as if batting away a fly.
Chapter Ten
James left the Hotel Old Town with a spring in his step. Now that he'd pacified Sinclair, he could relax. The snows had mercifully stopped, and he could trudge through the clear night without fear of a snow drift swallowing him up. The reflections of the lights gave the streets a slick, oily look. As he made his way towards the old town, he happened upon the two white towers of the Sacred Heart Cathedral dominating the square.
He stopped to admire the old church. To his left, Austro Hungarian style buildings leading to the Miljacka River, with their tall window frames and decorative flourishes of flowers and eyeless human faces. To his right, low Ottoman buildings with their domes, bazaars, and narrow passageways. With high, imposing Austrian grandeur on one side and the dark wood of the Turkish past on the other, the Sacred Heart straddled the boundary between worlds.
James turned towards the Ottoman Baščaršija district and dove into the bustling Turkish area of Sarajevo. Covered bazaars and coffee houses took up every available space. Gawping tourists and locals browsing the restaurants forced everyone to move shoulder-to-shoulder. Thick smoke with a distinctive meaty essence crawled across the clay tile roofs.
He waited at the first junction, as Nazifa had instructed. James took a deep breath as he scanned the crowds, grateful he didn't have to feel his way through the maze of narrow streets.
Nazifa emerged out of the crowd. "Hello, James. How are you?" she said.
A jolt of excitement pulsed through his veins as she came closer, in a thick brown coat she held tight against the cold.
"Good evening, Nazifa. How nice to see you.”
“Are you enjoying the city?”
James eyed his surroundings. “Something like that. Is the weather always this bad?”
“You come at the wrong time of year.”
James shrugged. “So, where are we going?”
“I thought we could speak about Suput. I’m excited to get moving.”
He nodded. “Then I have some good news for you. Sinclair, my intelligence agent, has decided to cooperate with us. We should have enough information to make a move in a matter of days."
Her eyes burned with inspiration. "You know, James, I had a better idea. I have all the information we need to act. Tomislav Suput is not a smart man." She came close to him and lowered her voice, her perfume rising above the charcoal burners of the restaurants. “This man is a fool. I followed him, and he does the same thing every day. He has a pattern. Never changing. I know where he is every minute. He has no security."
"So, what are you saying?" he asked.
"Let's go after him now. Forget planning. Just do it." Her voice became a whisper. "I have my gun."
James gulped. He liked the cut of her jib, but he had concerns over the timing. She didn't, she couldn't, understand the risk he was taking by offering his help in the first place. Sinclair would throw a fit if he acted now without a plan.
"I... I don't know if we should be hasty, Nazifa."
"Just do it. Do it, James. What does your Dickens say about waiting?"
"He who hesitates is lost. David Copperfield, I believe."
"Yes, yes. We should go. We can't lose this."
He wanted to say no. He knew he should have said no and gone out for dinner and a quiet drink, but she had a look about her. Something enchanting in her face that stopped his tongue from forming the words he knew he should.
"Okay. Now," he said.
James and Nazifa moved wordlessly back to the main road, where Nazifa had parked her faded red Vauxhall Corsa. The calm before the plunge. Those last-minute feelings of self-doubt before all hell broke loose. He wondered if she felt it too.
“You drive.”
“But I don’t know the city.”
“It’s okay. The streets are simple away from the Old Town. I will help you.”
James pursed his lips and got into the driver’s seat. He could handle himself in any situation, but he had enough to think about without trying to pick his way through an unknown city.
James drove away from the bustle of the Old Town district under the direction of Nazifa. The Corsa gained no points for style, but it appeared reliable. The engine made a sound akin to a food mixer as it nipped through the streets. The gloomy concrete buildings left behind by socialism opened to the parliament building of Bosnia and Herzegovina.
"So, we're here," said James. "Where would he work?"
"In the lower building. The skyscraper is for the Executive Council."
"Strange building."
James marvelled at the seemingly random design of the parliament building. The modern glass and steel building boasted a towering skyscraper akin to a single birthday candle.
"They say it's supposed to symbolise the Federation and Srpska," Nazifa explained. "All it managed to do was annoy both sides. The Bosnian-Serbs don't like it and the Bosnians don't like it. They should have just rebuilt the old one."
"Anyway.
” James cleared his throat to bring her back to his point. “Where should he be?"
Nazifa took out her smartphone. A glowing green valley showed up on in bright colours on her screen. "He should be getting ready to leave about now."
James shook his head. "This is rash. We should have made a plan. This place is crawling with police."
"You are too careful. I have already tracked him like the wild animal he is. He leaves at the same time every day. Look for a black Land Rover with the license plate ending in 'YX'."
James wasn't looking for a Land Rover, but he was eyeing up the police guarding the complex. Dressed all in black and wearing thick, clunky body armour, he could just about make out their faces oozing with suspicion. A Vauxhall Corsa wouldn't stand a chance of outrunning any police vehicle. He gripped the steering wheel, adrenaline beginning to pulse in his veins.
"There," Nazifa squealed. "There it is. Go."
James observed a black car leaving the complex, the glow of ‘YX’ caught in his headlights. "Is he driving himself?"
"No, he has a driver."
"Is he in the back or the front."
"Always in the front."
James nodded and watched the car go. He idled for a few moments before following. It moved out of sight of the parliament building and into the city.
"Don't let him get to the freeway," she said. "We won't keep up."
He responded by putting his foot down and darting in between a few cars before they could block their path at the traffic lights. Suput's car was only a few metres ahead of them. His hands gripped the wheel like iron. Sinclair's disapproval kept popping into his mind. This was a bad idea. Why was he doing this?
No, he knew why. Nazifa.
"Get on the passenger side on the next road."
After following the car down through the heart of the city, they passed the U.S. embassy. Silhouetted to be imposing, Old Glory fluttered in the wind, daring him to try something. James took controlled gulps of air. His pulse thundered now as they turned onto the next road. One lane became two and James forced the car forwards.
"Not now, not now." Nazifa slapped her knee. "Wait for the lights. We get one chance."
