***
Senad sent Faruk over to pick me up at 7:00 PM after Svetlana's phone call.
I sat quietly in the front seat blindfolded. The trip lasted roughly 40 minutes. I felt completely lost. All I knew I was somewhere along the wharf in Budva. I heard the periodical wail of marine foghorns in the distance. I also heard a flock of seagulls flying around the coast. The seagulls jostled and gawked as they fought each other over the jumping fish that rose above the water’s surface to peek at the sunset.
Then Faruk stopped suddenly, and the brakes of the car squealed loudly. He jumped out and strode to my side of the car. Next, he opened the car door and led me inside a large, cavernous warehouse.
I heard a large commotion of activity inside the warehouse.
Faruk continued leading me towards the center of the warehouse.
Once we reached Senad, he removed my blindfold and simultaneously pulled out my Smith and Wesson from my waist and studied it. Then he placed the gun back into my open hand. I stood in awe and amazement at the scene in front of me. Thirty rough-looking bikers sat on crates and boxes assembling their equipment. Every biker had an M80 Yugoslavian assault rifle. They had remained hidden in old crates since the close of the Bosnian War. The men carefully disassembled and re-assembled the rifles, dabbing the essential parts with lubricant oil and rubbing away the rust.
Once they finished, they stood up and looped a thick, green belt over their chests. In the belt were several assault rifle clips and grenades.
I fumbled absently at the handle of my 0.38 Smith and Wesson, easing my troubled mind from what I saw displayed in front of me. Then Senad called his troops to attention.
Although the troops were former soldiers in the Montenegrin military, their old, tired bodies fell out of routine. Snapping their heels together, while saluting their commander, was discordant and fell out of sync, like a drunk orchestra. However, their eyes glinted with savaged determination.
I shivered a little. I knew some people were going to die tonight. I didn’t want to shoot anybody, but I was bringing a small army who would.
Senad turned to me and asked, “What's the message from Sasha's girl?”
Everyone became quiet in the warehouse as furious eyes focused on my words, “She said to meet them at the gate at 10:00 PM sharp and don't be late. Yelena's life depends on it. Sasha's place is the large, white mansion, perched on the first mountaintop outside of Budva. She said any clueless driver could spot it. A long, winding road leads directly to the top of the mountain to his place.”
Once I finished, Senad rallied his troops, “Soldiers, tonight we’ll have a fierce battle with an old Russian enemy. This enemy, Sasha, came to our city and pushed us to the side like we were dog shit, baking on the sidewalk under the sun. Tonight, we’ll take back our city and get rid of this son-of-bitch Sasha. Tonight, Sasha dies.”
Then a raucous crescendo of cheers and hollers, echoed through the warehouse as the soldiers screamed their approval.
After the screams had died down, Senad continued, “Tonight, we’ll become the kings of the underworld again. We’ll take control of our streets and reclaim our businesses. However, this victory will come at a price. Some of you will not return, and we’ll always remember your sacrifice and blood. You will be memorialized with a picture of you hanging on the wall near the entrance to the Renaissance Night Club. Today, you'll live as brave soldiers, but some of you'll die tonight as heroes!”
The roar of the crowd rang out again. All the soldiers held their assault rifles in the air, displaying their bravery and allegiance to Senad.
I stood there apprehensively, thinking to myself, what in the hell did I just do.
Then the soldiers began climbing into two old rusty vans, sitting on the floor with their backs to the wall, clenching their assault rifles.
Senad glanced over at me and called, “Are you coming, Keith? Hop in the van in the back with the soldiers. Then Senad climbed into the passenger seat of the other van.
As I huddled for room in the back of the van, the sliding door slammed shut. The ride to Sasha's was excruciating. Stench in the nightclub was a godsend compared to the stench inside the van. Bodies covered and sprawled over every square inch of the van's floor.
All the soldiers were chain-smoking cigarettes, and the metal floor had gaping holes, allowing the exhaust to pollute the already foul air inside the van. I was an insect stuck in an airtight jar, and I was suffocating quickly.
I wrenched and wiggled in pain as the metal floor bit into my ass. As the van hit a bump, the floor took a larger bite of my ass.
As we approached Sasha's mountain, Senad commanded through a walkie-talkie, “Everyone extinguish their cigarettes now and remain quiet.”
The vans slowly crept up the mountain with their headlights turned off. We stopped a half-mile away from Sasha's front gate.
One of the soldiers quietly left the van, and he scampered forward on his hands and knees with binoculars in one hand and a walkie-talkie in the other. He hid off the side of road under the darkness, getting a better view of the front gate. Sasha's mansion illuminated the dark mountainside like a lighthouse, as one solitary guard staffed the front gate.
Senad's vans hid on the roadside out of view of the guardhouse. Senad planned to strike hard and fast after those gates opened, waiting silently, a rattlesnake hiding behind a rock, ready to strike at its enemy.
Searching for Stolen Love Page 36
