by Joseph Badal
The President rose from his chair and pressed a buzzer on his telephone console. Two burly uniformed guards stormed into the room and positioned themselves on either side of Plodic. The President turned his back. “Take him away,” he said. “I never want to see him again.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
Jack Cole sat in the little eight-by-eight room and stared through the one-way window at Radko. The old man sat stiffly in a chair and listened to a second man in the room read from an official-looking document.
“Stefan Gregorovich Radko, you have been accused and convicted of complicity in the kidnapping of an American officer assigned to the North Atlantic Treaty Organization’s peacekeeping mission in the Balkans. By the authority vested in NATO’s War Crimes Tribunal, you have been sentenced to deportation. You will be transported to the Yugoslav border where you will be turned over to Serb officials.”
Jack noticed Radko slump slightly upon hearing his sentence. But the man immediately recovered and resumed his ramrod straight posture. The second man left the room and Jack rose, exited the observation room, and joined Radko. The Gypsy looked up at him when he entered the room, but said nothing, and showed no emotion.
“Tough guy, huh?” Jack said, sitting down. “You’re going to need to be when the Serbs get their hands on you.” Jack let that thought sink in, then said, “But don’t worry about your wife and daughter. I’ll see they are well cared for. And I’m sure Miriana will have many beautiful children. She and Michael Danforth make a handsome couple, don’t you agree?”
Radko’s skin turned almost gray and his eyes seemed to go colorless.
Jack stood and left the room. He didn’t think it would serve any purpose to tell Radko there was no NATO War Crimes Tribunal, nor had he been convicted in a duly constituted court. The Gypsy’s trip back to Serbia had been arranged with an old Iron Curtain agent Jack had dealt with years before.
EPILOGUE
2000
A blinding flash of sunlight shot off the limousine window when the uniformed driver opened the back passenger door. Bob, standing on the bottom step in front of the church’s massive carved stone entrance, raised his hand to shield his eyes. Then he turned slightly to the side and looked down at the well-wishers gathered near the curb beside the long white vehicle. He picked out the newlyweds on the far edge of the crowd and smiled – their journey together at its beginning.
He took in a shuddering breath. What a ride his own journey had been! What a ride! The words sparked in his brain. He couldn’t have planned for, would never have conceived of the road he’d traveled. His heart seemed to hiccup for a moment. Would he have had it any other way? No! At least not the journey. But maybe some of the stops along the way.
Vanja stood off to the side, fifteen yards away from the wedding party and the other attendees. She mouthed the English word she’d come to love: Serendipity. She still couldn’t pronounce it quite right, but she liked the way it sounded. And she loved its many nuances: Luck, happenstance. Hadn’t her life been filled with all those things? She liked thinking about the good things in her life. If she thought about the sad things, she might go crazy.
She watched Michael sweep the long, white train of Miriana’s gown off the sidewalk and help her into the waiting limousine. The crowd moved closer to the car, tossing rose petals and rice at the young couple. She wished Attila could have seen this. Her breath came in stutters and her throat tightened. This day, this wedding was a miracle, a miracle that could have been short-circuited at many stops along a lifetime of tragic events. And the legacy of her husband’s perfidy had finally almost destroyed Miriana. Her feelings of guilt about what her father had done to Michael and his family were almost impossible for her to overcome.
An image of Stefan came to her, but she shook her head as though to purge her memory of the man.
She saw Liz Danforth standing at the top of the steps near the church’s massive carved wood doors. She wanted more than anything to tell the woman how sorry she was – for the part she’d played in almost ruining her life almost thirty years ago; about the role her husband played last year in bringing more nightmares to Liz’s life. But she sensed Michael’s mother wasn’t ready to accept her apology. Her emotional wounds and the anger they caused were still too close to the surface.
Vanja stared again at Miriana and saw the complete, unreserved happiness on her face and gave a silent prayer for the gift God had given her daughter in the form of Michael’s love. She waved at the limousine while it pulled away and continued waving until the car turned a corner and disappeared from view.
Bob sensed Liz beside him. He turned and hugged her, wiped away a tear at the corner of her eye with his free hand, and kissed her cheek. “I don’t know why,” he said, “but I was thinking about how I used to run around the yard in Greece with Michael in my arms, playing Superman.”
Liz smiled. “Soup Man! Remember how he said Soup Man?”
Bob chuckled. Then he turned solemn and looked over Liz’s shoulder at Vanja. “You know, for Michael’s sake, you should try to mend things with Miriana’s mother.”
A sharp, angry look came to Liz’s eyes and, for a moment, Bob thought she was going to blow up. But the look smoldered for a few seconds, and faded. “In time,” she said. “In good time.”
Bob met Liz’s gaze. He knew, more than any other person, the emotions swirling inside his wife mind. He could tell when an errant memory came to her, one that took her back to the first kidnapping. A sudden look of panic would quickly cross her face, and would just as quickly segue into a clenched-jaw show of anger. But he also knew Liz was a loving, compassionate woman who would eventually make peace with Miriana’s mother.
“Well, we’ve got a reception to attend,” Bob said.
Liz nodded. She gave his hand a squeeze and started to turn. But she stopped and whispered, “Miriana’s mother doesn’t have a car. Maybe you should offer her a ride to the hotel.”
THE END
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Joseph Badal has worked for thirty eight years in the banking and financial services industries. Prior to his finance career, he served as an officer in the U.S. Army in critical, highly classified positions in the U.S. and overseas, including tours of duty in Greece and Vietnam. He earned numerous military decorations.
Joe has been a member of the New Mexico House of Representatives and recently retired as a Board Member and Senior Executive of a New York Stock Exchange-listed company. He lives in New Mexico.
Joe’s first suspense novel, “The Pythagorean Solution,” was released in April, 2003. His second suspense novel, “Terror Cell,” was released in July 2004. The paperback version of “The Pythagorean Solution” was released in 2005. His book “The Nostradamous Secret” was released in 2011. All of his books are available in digital format.
To learn more, visit his website at www.josephbadalbooks.com. You can see Joe’s blog at http://josephbadal.wordpress.com.
