***
Adnan sat on a chair with a serious contemplative expression on his face as he watched the biography of Muhammad, the founder of Islam. Adnan was not religious, but he felt the tug of religion on his conscience. He knew within another five or ten years; he would become a devout Muslim, but now he was a slave to sin.
Of course, Adnan was several steps ahead in the religion. He had a string of serious girlfriends spread around Tuzla, if he could only marry them all. Although Bosnian women were Muslim, they strictly clung to the Western notion of one man and one wife. Adnan knew Bosnian women could also be very emotional. One day his girlfriend suspected he had another girl on the side, and she chucked a large frying pan at him and came at him with a knife in her hand.
He lifted his arm to block the frying pan and then quickly wrestled the knife out of her hand. After he talked to her and settled her down, they had angry sex – the best of all sex in the world.
Jasmin opened the door and walked into the safe house. He passed the entrance to the living room and said, “Hey, can you come and help me carry a crate inside.”
They went outside and brought the crate into the house, placing it in the upstairs bedroom that was filled with crates.
Then Adnan returned to the living room while Jasmin went to the kitchen.
Adnan heard kitchen cabinets open and shut, and dishes moved around.
After an hour, Jasmin paced back and forth in the living room, still wearing his camouflage fatigues from the outdoor exercise.
Then Jasmin glanced at the closet where Yelena was held captive. As he approached the door, he started to unzip his jeans and unfasten his belt while he patted his little Jasmin several times.
Adnan studied Jasmin and yelled in a loud, authoritative voice, “What the fuck are you doing?”
Jasmin just stared back.
“Get away from the door.”
“The boss said I said look after the bitch, so I thought I could get me a little something before the boss arrived.”
Adnan's face contorted into a frown, 'You are going to stick your dick into that Serbian bitch?”
“Well, I figure the Serbs raped our women. We can return their kind favor.”
“Jasmin! You want to contaminate the Bosnian race with that slut's dirty DNA?”
“That’s not my problem! I’m not going to raise a bastard's child! That's her problem.”
Jasmin reached for the lock on the closet door.
Then Adnan jumped from his chair and ran to Jasmin. He leaned his large frame against the door, so Jasmin couldn’t open it.
Adnan yelled, “You heard the boss. He said don’t touch her. He has plans for her.”
“I’m not going to hurt her. I just want to feed little Jasmin.”
Then Jasmin pushed Adnan away from the door, and Adnan shoved Jasmin hard, almost knocking him onto the floor.
Jasmin recovered his balance and clenched his fists. His face reddened while his neck muscles pulsated violently.
Then they heard a heavy key slide into the lock at the front door.
Jasmin unclenched his fists and started to fix his belt while Adnan went to the living room to turn down the TV and sat in his armchair.
The front door opened, and Damir walked into the room. He switched out of his camouflage fatigues and wore a dress shirt, dress pants, and a new silk tie. A few snowflakes clung to his thick dark wool overcoat and leather black cap.
A cold draft immediately invaded the warmness of the house. He closed the door, removed his winter attire, and stomped his boots onto the welcome mat to shake off the sticky snow.
Then Damir entered the living room. He studied Jasmin and Adnan, and Jasmin walked away while he zipped up his pants discreetly.
“Boys, did I miss something?”
Jasmin looked at the boss and kept quiet. He had an embarrassed look upon his face, like a pupil whom the teacher caught sticking crayons into his coffee mug. As he looked at the ground, he replied, “I’ve just got out of the bathroom boss.”
Damir hung up his winter coat, cap, and sat on the couch, and Jasmin joined them, sitting on the other side of Damir.
“How’s that Serbian slut?” Damir asked in a good mood.
“She’s doing well,” Adnan replied. “I gave her some food a little a while ago.”
“Did she give you any trouble?”
“No, she’s been locked up in the closet. She’s been very quiet,” and Adnan pointed to the hallway closet for emphasis.
“Did you contact the police detective to find out if anyone saw her kidnapped or reported her missing?”
“Yes sir-ree,” Adnan replied and then added, “Nobody saw us kidnap her. Jasmin and I were careful. We knocked her out with chloroform. Then we helped her walk to the car. We made it look like she was drunk, and we helped her walk home, like the gentlemen we are. It was very cold, and few people were around, so nobody knows we have her, boss.”
“Good! That little bitch will net us 6,000 euros. But, we must get her safe and unharmed to Budva, Montenegro. Sasha will pay top dollar for her. If she has any scrapes or bruises on her, then that would lower the negotiated price.”
Damir glanced slyly at Adnan and then Jasmin. Subsequently Damir added, “Adnan, I want you to take that bitch to Montenegro. Make sure you line the car's trunk with heavy blankets. Before you cross the border to Montenegro, make sure you sedate her. We wouldn't want to attract any attention from the customs police, wouldn’t we? We must get her to Montenegro safe and sound with no bruises.”
Adnan nodded his head in agreement. He often smuggled living or non-living cargo across the border, so this was like running to the store for a pack of cigarettes.
Adnan knew customs rarely checked the trunk of citizens of former Yugoslavia as long as they were not suspicious. One literally needed bulls-eye painted on the trunk with a caption, 'Drugs inside,' or a couple of stalks of marijuana partially dangling outside the car trunk before a customs agent searched a car. The police never took the initiative to enforce the law. They needed a swift kick in the ass to get them going.
Adnan knew Damir picked him for this assignment. He knew if Jasmin delivered the cargo, the delivery time would be a few hours longer, and the cargo would become slightly damaged and bruised, reducing Damir’s profits. He felt nothing for Yelena. She was just a pawn on a thug's chessboard. Sasha could shoot the bitch for all he cared as long as Sasha paid for it. Sasha could do what he liked with Yelena. Her fate meant nothing to him, except Damir will become 6,000 euros richer.
Then Damir started to chuckle evilly.
Adnan and Jasmin search Damir's face for clues of his exuberance.
Damir explained, “I wish I could’ve seen Dr. Swanson's face when he discovered his little bitch was missing.”
Adnan and Jasmin joined in the laughter. They didn’t like one of their top professors dating the enemy or potentially producing offspring with them.
Then Damir added, “I’m also thinking about paying Dr. Swanson a bonus for his hard work. I think a two-thousand-euro bonus would be nice. He did work hard for me this past semester, and he should be rewarded, and his girlfriend helped pay for it.”
Adnan and Jasmin roared with raucous laughter that echoed throughout the house. Jasmin almost fell to the floor rolling around in laughter.
After the laughter had died down, Damir asked, “Do you have anything to drink? Something warm?
“Yes, boss!” Then Jasmin sprang from his seat and scurried to the kitchen. He brewed a traditional cup of Bosnian coffee, similar to the Turkish method of brewing coffee. He filled a kanaka with water, sugar, and finely ground, dark roasted coffee.
Jasmin brought the brew to a soft boil, allowing the mixture to froth and foam. Afterwards, he removed it from the heat for a few seconds, and then returned the kanaka to the fire to re-boil. He repeated the process five times, and subsequently, allowed the coffee to sit for a couple of minutes, letting the coffee grounds to settle to the bot
tom.
Ten minutes later, Jasmin returned with a shot of bourbon and traditional Bosnian coffee.
Damir took the shot of bourbon and quickly gulped down its fiery liquid. Next, he picked up the Bosnian coffee and chased it after the shot.
“Aaahhh!” Damir uttered. After a minute once the coffee and alcohol worked its magic in Damir's brain, he asked, “Did you bring the jingle bells inside?”
“Yes, boss. We’ve got three crates of jingle bells.
“Boss,” Adnan protested, “I don’t like the jingle bells. Couldn’t we use something else?”
“Oh come on. They’re very small and effective. They’re…”
“But boss, I’ve seen too many comrades who had their legs and arms blown off.”
“We need those. Like I said before, we will plant large Bosnian land mines on the main roads and hide the jingle bells in the shrubs and trees. That way, we’ll maximize our damage to the Serbs.”
“Hell yeah,” Jasmin replied and added, “I’ve seen a Bosnian landmine destroy a tank. The tank was a hunk of metal.”
Damir continued, “We must prepare for the Serbs. We’ll start the next war and kill as many Serbian dogs as we can.” Then he paused for a moment because his throat became parched. “Jasmin, you forgot to bring a glass of water.”
Jasmin ran to the kitchen and returned with a clean glass and a bottle of natural spring water.
Damir gulped down a glass of water and placed it on the end table. He continued, “Jasmin, how’s your surveillance going in Banja Luka?”
“Very well. After I dropped the professors off at campus, I drove by their old military bases and then the main government buildings. I haven’t seen any unusual activity. So far, everything is quiet.”
Adnan objected, “Boss, I like that the campus is in Banja Luka. It gives us a means to keep our eyes on the Serbs, but I don’t like educating them. We’re educating the enemy! They can use their education against us in the next war.”
Damir sighed and then started his discourse, “I know we’re educating the enemy, but you must realize one thing. We’re educating Serbs, who in all likelihood will become officers in the Serbian war machine. From our school records, we’ll know their identity and more importantly, where they live. Once the war starts, we’ll sneak into Banja Luka and take them out. We’ll kill their officers! We’ll damage their leadership, and blast a gaping hole into the Serbian war machine!”
Jasmin and Adnan were grinning.
If only those Serbian students knew what diabolical plans, the university president contemplated. Serbian students thought the Bosnians wanted to make a little money from educating them. They didn’t realize Damir was monitoring them for the next Bosnian War.
Then Jasmin and Damir began to exchange chuckles again. Adnan looked at them in surprise.
“What’s so funny now, boss?” Adnan asked with a puzzled look on his face.
“Ah, you missed today's training exercise. We kidnapped a Serbian student and hunted him down like the dog he was,” Jasmin said between bursts of laughter.
Damir jabbed Jasmin's ribs playfully with his elbow.
“Who’s this Serb?” Adnan continued.
Damir smiled and tugged at his favorite black belt for emphasis, “He’s one of the top students at the Banja Luka campus. He owed me some money, so I cashed in his ass. Now his debts are paid in full.”
“How did the hunt go? Did he pose any challenge?” Adnan asked earnestly.
“Ppppsssst,” Jasmin added and started to laugh louder and added, “He was weak. It would be more of a challenge to shoot at a barn blindfolded.”
Damir added, “He didn’t pose a challenge. Sad thing was he was the top student in Banja Luka. These young Serbs are so weak and spoiled. I know we can win the next war.”
“What about his parents,” Adnan asked intelligently.
“If his parents ask, I will just say he missed his morning meeting with me. I only tried to help the young kid. If his parents ever find the body, I’ll send them my condolences and a wreath of flowers for his funeral.”
Then the whole group erupted into a loud, raucous laughter again, echoing throughout the house.
Then Damir pulled out a small, plastic Zip-lock bag filled with several grams of cocaine.
Upon seeing the baggy, Jasmin frowned while Adnan looked away. Damir went into the kitchen to take his real medicine.
As the room quieted, Adnan heard soft sobbing sounds coming from the hallway closet. Then they started chuckling again.
Damir came into the living room again with a little white dust surrounding the left nostril of his nose. He laid his head back on the couch, smiling with glee.
Yelena continued sobbing for an hour until she became quiet while the men watched an old war movie with the volume turned down.
Searching for Stolen Love Page 8
