by James Samuel
James climbed out of the car at the bottom of a hill. Kemal joined him for a final cigarette before beginning the business of the day.
"Do you have everything you need?" asked James.
"Enough."
"Body armour?"
Kemal unzipped his thick coat and opened the top two buttons of his shirt to reveal the armour beneath him. It looked old and frayed. Most likely one of the many goodies he'd forgotten to return after the war.
"We go through the trees," said Kemal. "I know how to fight. In the trees we surprise them, eh?"
"My thoughts exactly. Driving up the main road would be suicide."
"I don't know how many, though. There will be more than them."
James nodded. He'd decided against telling Kemal about the presence of the highly skilled, highly deadly Gordon Maugham. Kemal was here as a mere distraction. He was going to die, just like the rest of them. The long drive had given James lots of time to work through the conflicted feelings he had for Kemal. In the end, he concluded, he was no better than the rest of them. Just another warmonger spewing his windy, nationalist trash.
"You ready, my friend?"
"I dressed after the border. Interceptor Multi-Threat Body Armor. It was used by the U.S. army up until a few years ago."
The two men got back into their respective cars and began the ascent up the winding track. James struggled to negotiate the snowdrifts as his head hung out of the window to keep his wheels out of any ditches. It was slow going and James wondered if the noise would alert Gordon. Sounds travelled far in the countryside.
"He's going to die, isn't he?" said Sinclair as they neared the treeline.
"Yes," he replied matter-of-factly. "He's no better than Plemenac. Kemal played me for a fool like the rest of them."
"And Nazifa?"
James bit his lower lip. "I haven't decided yet."
"Do you want my opinion on the subject?"
"With all due respect, Sinclair, not right now. We'll see."
The question of Nazifa had tormented him through the night. She had manipulated him with her happy, hyperactive demeanour. The way she spoke to him and the way she clung to him had allowed her to take advantage. Any feelings he once had for her were dead now, cast into the blackness of the back of his mind. But did she deserve to die? He hadn't worked that out yet. For now, he had to focus entirely on Gordon. An opponent who did have the steel to beat him in a fair fight.
James and Kemal parked their respective cars halfway up the hill. From here, they would advance on foot into the trees.
"You wait here for me."
"And what if you don't come back?" asked Sinclair.
"Tell Maugham I forced you to come here. Gallagher believes you’re on his side, so you have nothing to fear. Just wait for me." James lowered his voice. "Because Kemal will not be coming back. That is the one thing I can guarantee today."
"Take care, James, really."
Fearful that a moment would develop between the two, James shunted the door open and stepped onto the snow. His boots got some purchase, and he stretched his stiff joints. The thin, frigid air banished the last of his night-time grogginess. He opened the trunk and began getting his arsenal together. For three or four targets, he would rarely use anything more than the M9 semiautomatic 9mm. With Gordon on the scene, he wouldn’t feel comfortable unless he had a tank.
Strapping the M9 into his holster, he affixed all the detachable parts of his AR-15. He’d replaced the ordinary iron sights with an RDS system. He looked down the sights to see the red dot, which he’d already calibrated for himself. Unlike in Cambodia, he didn’t have any explosives to play around with.
“I like it,” said Kemal. “We need more of these. We kill thousands of Serbians. Come, my friend.”
James pursed his lips. His comments against Serbians and their sympathisers had an even more sinister ring to them than they did before. Had Kemal carried out the same ethnic cleansings as Plemenac had?
He motioned to Sinclair and they began the trek up the hill. A small clearing marked the beginning of the treeline. The satellite maps Sinclair had drawn up showed they had about 500 metres until the trail ended.
“Okay, no more words,” said Kemal.
The two men edged away from the trail and crept into the forest. They plunged through the low hanging branches of the fir trees, knocking a hail of delicately balanced snow. Silence but for their own footsteps crunching in the snow put James on edge.
Kemal raised a hand for them to halt. They listened for any sound of human life. Their breaths crystallised in front of them.
James nodded and they split up. The plan had been discussed after they’d crossed the border into Croatia. Splitting up would give them the element of surprise. For all Gordon’s experience, he wouldn’t have expected Kemal.
Kemal circled towards the trail. His enormous frame stuck out against the slim tree trunks. James waited for him to go, before continuing parallel to the trail. He noted the trees could only partially hide them, but the trunks would stop most calibre rounds. James couldn’t afford to get pinned down.
Once Kemal disappeared through the treeline again, he kept his eyes forward. All the trees looked the same. Little light managed to penetrate from above, so he had to pick his way through a path of muted silver.
James encountered no signs of a human presence as he traversed his way through the forest. The fresh snow remained undisturbed. Not even an animal had made its way through here in the last few hours. It gave him confidence that Nazifa’s captors hadn’t set a permanent watch in the areas away from the cabin proper.
A few minutes later, he saw hints of a clearing. Smooth wooden planks no doubt were the walls of the cabin. This place was too isolated for him to be wrong. His senses pricked up. If there were any traps, they would be here.
James took small, measured breaths. He slowed his pace. Each time the snow crunched, he winced. Holding the AR-15 in the firing position, he stared through the sights. The lethal red dot followed his eyeline.
He crept forwards until he saw the front stoop of the cabin. Just 50 metres away, by his reckoning. He saw lights inside, but no signs of anyone outside. Kemal knew his orders. He was to advance on the cabin and open fire. Kemal was the bait, even if he thought otherwise.
James took a knee and maintained his position, waiting for the sound of the first shot. The red dot rested in the direct centre of the door, just where someone’s head might emerge. If Gordon were inside, he wouldn’t even get a chance to fight back.
“Come on, Kemal,” James breathed.
A gunshot cracked through the forest. It came from dead ahead of him. Kemal had answered his prayers. The echo reverberated through the tranquil area and disappeared. The door opened. James tightened his grip. Two men emerged. He held off. None of them were Gordon.
Kemal fired from the trees. The two Croatians dove for cover. James remained motionless. These men knew what they were doing. Both of them faced away from him. He heard no tell-tale screams from Nazifa. James stayed behind his tree, watching the Croatians scramble for cover. They had their backs to him.
James waited for them to plunge into the forest in their search for Kemal, before he inched forwards. He didn’t trust Gordon. Creeping his way through the trees, he listened to the sound of his own heartbeat as he shifted his red dot from side to side. He neither saw nor heard movements, only the relentless booms of guns firing.
He was only two rows of trees from the clearing. The Croatians had left the door wide open. James shook his head. Something didn’t feel right. Gordon wouldn’t have pinned himself down by waiting inside. Besides, most high calibre bullets would penetrate those walls.
James kept his eyes on the door. A movement from his left. The bullet hit the tree beside him, just where his head had been. Taken off balance, James stumbled backwards. Another blast and the ancient bark exploded. Gordon appeared from around the side of the cabin.
“Good morning, Winchester,” he calle
d.
James took as much cover as he could behind the tree. Gordon’s next well-placed shot exploded yet more bark. Violent splinters shredded the air. His ears rang with the impact. James continued to move from tree to tree, only just managing to avoid Gordon’s shots.
The firing stopped. Gordon had disappeared. James raised the AR-15, searching for any sight of him. A flick of an arm, James dropped to his stomach and let loose with the weapon. Snow and tree bark erupted as the high-powered bullets wreaked havoc.
Gordon vanished again. The only sounds were those of Kemal and the two Croatians somewhere in the distance.
James kept moving. He couldn’t take the risk of remaining still. Looking down the red dot again, he crouched behind another tree. A flash of blonde hair and James fired. Gordon disappeared behind a trunk.
“Your aim is terrible,” said Gordon. “Is this what Gallagher was so concerned about?”
James didn’t rise to the bait. He wouldn’t risk giving his position away.
“Come on, Winchester.” Gordon emerged from behind the truck with a pistol in each hand. He was toying with him. “You have to do better than that.”
James dove away from Gordon’s shots flying into the snow, the chill stinging his face. Rising to his feet again, he scanned the area where Gordon had been. James ejected the cartridge and popped another one back in, a loud snap piercing the air.
A bullet flashed past him, ill-placed. It soon disappeared. Gordon’s shots were forcing him back. He darted to the right and heard another bullet whizzing past him.
Gordon called out, “You’re never going to hit me if you fight like this.”
James gritted his teeth. Truth be told he knew it. The AR-15 was cumbersome for a fight like this. It made him less agile and mobile. He had to get rid of it, but he couldn’t risk Gordon getting his hands on it.
He edged towards the cabin. James had to try something new. He made a break for it and ran for the back of the cabin, zigzagging all the way. Gordon’s shots didn’t come close to hitting him.
James flew around the side of the cabin, removed the magazine from the AR-15, and shoved the empty weapon behind a stack of chopped firewood. He took the M9 from its holster. H felt like a millstone had been removed from around his neck. Now, he had to figure out a way of beating Gordon.
Diving back into the trees behind the cabin, he waited for Gordon to show himself again. Shots continually rang out from the forest, only this time they were closer. His breathing grew deeper as he forced the air through his nostrils. To his left, he saw someone, and it wasn’t Kemal.
Gordon appeared from around the other side of the cabin. In his peripheral vision, one of the Croatians saw him and turned his gun on him. James raised his weapon and fired. The man dropped. His back arched as the bullet tore his kidneys to shreds. Gordon fired just as James rolled away. The snow exploded upwards as the shot marked where he’d been standing.
James instantly fired back at Gordon. His fire elicited a grunt from the man. James had scored a hit. He threw himself behind a tree again as Gordon emptied the magazine of one of his pistols.
Gordon threw down an empty pistol. “Nice shot, Winchester. A glancing blow.”
James looked out and fired. Gordon had already taken cover. He ejected the magazine and reloaded his only remaining M9 magazine.
Gordon eased outwards again and let off another shot. James returned fire. The window of the cabin behind him shattered.
He moved out of cover to place another shot. Gordon managed to squeeze his shot off. It caught James by the edge of his calf and he went down screaming. His gun flew out of his hands as he toppled backwards, a pain like a hot knife twisting his leg made him want to wretch. But he bit his tongue to stay alert.
“What a shame.” Gordon emerged from cover upon seeing James disarmed. “Gallagher always spoke so highly of you. Yet you lost to an old man.”
James clutched at his stricken leg. His blood stained the snow, leaving a bloody smear across the pristine surface.
The sound of more shooting and a scream made Gordon snap his head up. “Excuse me.”
Gordon brushed past him, giving a nonchalant kick to James’ weapon. It went skittering through the snow and into the distance.
James propped himself up against the nearest tree as he watched Gordon turn towards the wounded Croatian. Kemal emerged from the trees. With little effort, Gordon fired a single shot and the big man fell to the ground, killed instantly.
James gulped. Kemal had served his purpose, but he’d died a little too soon. James was defenceless against Gordon as he gripped his wound as hard as he could to try to staunch the bleeding. Blood oozed from between his fingers.
Gordon turned back to him. “We did discuss whether to allow you to live. To bring you back to London where you could explain yourself. Perhaps even to give you another chance.” He let the gun fall to his side. “You are talented and an asset. I can respect that, but I must carry out my orders, you understand that?”
“You always were Gallagher’s favourite. Tell him I hope he falls down the stairs.”
Gordon grinned and raised his pistol. James cringed away, waiting for the light to go out. The pistol clicked. James opened his eyes. Gallagher had used his last bullet on Kemal. Gordon turned the weapon over, as if he didn’t understand it.
James pulled his knife from his belt and slammed it into Gordon’s calf. The Englishman screamed like a wild animal as the blade tore through muscle and cartilage. His lifeblood leaked out and mingled in the snow with his own.
James got on top of Gallagher and pinned him down. “Or maybe I’ll push him down the stairs myself.”
James drove the blade into the side of Gordon’s neck. His arteries exploded, spraying outwards like a fountain. The look of pure shock on Gordon’s arrogant countenance would remain there forever as he bled out into the snow. His arms went limp, the fingers splayed out at odd angles, as if trying to cling to the final vestiges of life.
The smell of gunfire and blood fouled the air. James got to his knees. His leg throbbed, sending pulsing waves of agony through his body. It wasn’t the first time he’d been shot, and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last. Pushing himself up to vertical, he half limped, and half dragged his bleeding leg towards the cabin. There was still one more piece of business to get out of the way.
The cabin door remained open. He fell against it as he stumbled inside. A fire burned in the wood stove. The snow clinging to his clothes started to melt away, leaving little puddles of water around his feet mixed with blood.
Nazifa stood before him. A noose stuck tight around her neck. She stood on a chair. Her hands were tied behind her back with duct tape, as were her ankles. Her shoulder sagged as relief washed over her and smile formed behind the tape covering her mouth.
He wanted more than anything to take her in her arms and tell her everything was going to be okay. But he didn’t. He just took her figure in for a few seconds. The girl had manipulated him, played him like a fool. James stumbled towards her and removed the tape covering her mouth.
“James, thank you. You came to save me. You’re hurt. Let me help you.”
James just stared at her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what? What are you talking about?” She spoke quickly, terror in every word.
“You pretended to be interested in me. The whole thing was a lie because you wanted me to work for you, wasn’t it? Both you and Kemal knew what you were doing.”
“No,” Nazifa cried. “Who told you that? They are lying.”
“I know about your girlfriend, Jasmina Velic.”
Nazifa’s mouth dropped open.
“Tell me the truth. I’m tired of all the lying, Nazifa. Kemal was much more involved in the nationalist movement than he let on. So were you. How I found out is irrelevant. I want to know the truth.”
Nazifa’s mask of shock dropped away to one of resentment. Her teeth gritted together behind her full lips. James’ stomach
turned. The mark of the liar who saw no way out.
“Fine, James. It’s true. Yes. I would never love you. Jasmina is my girlfriend. Yes, I used you. People like you, like Ratko, you will never understand. War is our only path to freedom. I had no choice. You were the best thing we had in years. Kemal agreed, too. When we killed Tomislav Suput together, then I knew you were what we needed. But to you, a foreigner, it is a job. You came for money, not to understand.”
James stared stone-faced. The truth cut harder hearing it from Nazifa’s own mouth. During the long ride from Sarajevo, he’d done his best to cling to that last piece of hope that he’d got it wrong. Now it dawned on him he’d never really known Nazifa. He’d known a pretty mask placed over a manipulative creature.
“Get me down, James. I’m sorry I hurt you, but it was necessary. Now it is over you can go. Forget about me. Forget your silly ideas of love.”
“Forget you?” James shook his head. “I would never forget a girl like you.”
James dragged his leg as he moved around behind her and cut away the tape around her ankles. The bitterness welled up inside him. He’d gone through all this pain only to be left with an open wound, one which wouldn’t heal for a long time to come.
“Then you are a fool. You men are all the same. If you are so easy to manipulate, you will always be a victim. Forget about me, James. I will make my own way home. We never need to see each other again.”
James stopped as he processed the words. Nazifa showed no guilt and no sorrow for the man she’d hurt. He backed away from her, sizing her up. Her eyes, looking down at him were filled with a dismissiveness, almost a cocky arrogance. Was Plemenac and Kadrić really worse than Kemal? Were they even worse than Nazifa? He felt like he didn’t know anyone anymore.
“Goodbye, Nazifa.”
He kicked the chair out from under her. The noose tightened around her throat, as her body dragged her down into the depths of hell. Her feet kicked for something, anything, but only found thin air. James snatched at a tear that dared to surface for the first time in years.
