KVSPARROW: A Shadow Wars Novel

by DAK

Chapter Thirteen

  The next few days passed fairly quickly, at least in comparison to the time spent waiting in the garage. I had several debrief sessions with DIA, usually at the Four Seasons, the hotel to which they moved me the morning after our arrival. The debrief topics were limited to my conversations with Aferdita, my take on her personality, handling requirements, veracity and motivators. Operational details, unless they directly pertained to the debrief topic, were always avoided. No one wanted to know how I completed the mission and I was not interested in enlightening anyone. There was some discussion of the possible results from the tracking devices but nothing beyond informed speculation. After four days I had nothing left to contribute and was ready to move on and count this one complete.

  Aferdita had been around during this time but our interactions were limited. I only saw her on two occasions, when introducing her to DIA officers and during her initial debrief. On both occasions she had been polite, open and friendly but without the flirtatious behavior and subtle displays of interest she had shown during our interactions in Kosovo. I attributed this to her concentration on her new surroundings and information overload. That and the fact that I might have been more attractive to her during our adventures than would otherwise be the case simply due to the intensity of the circumstances which brought us together. This too was normal and as she began to settle in to her new world I expected she would continue the process of readjustment. I had no place in that new world and was happy to see that she was, to the extent that I could determine, adjusting well and rapidly. This made her call on the afternoon of the day before I was scheduled to leave a bit of a surprise.

  “Hi. It’s me. I hope you didn’t think you were going to leave without saying goodbye.”

  I recognized her voice of course but the implied familiarity of the “it’s me” and her playful, teasing tone threw me somewhat off balance. I had, in fact, planned on doing just that. I suspected there was a mutual attraction there, perhaps enhanced by the situation yet still present but there seemed little point in pursuit. I wouldn’t be around wherever she wound up, there were too many security issues and lifestyle problems to be overcome and the whole long term relationship thing doesn’t fit this line of work very well. It seemed better to steal away quietly into the night and be a fond memory rather than pursue anything more. Especially as the pursuit, if successful and regardless of its transitory nature, might create difficulties for her present situation. Just disappearing was easier, made the most sense and worked best for everyone.

  Not that I could simply say that of course. I stammered my way through a short version of I know you’re busy, didn’t want to be a distraction, won’t be around anymore after this and thought it was best. The end result was no sale.

  “I don’t care about all that. You got me out of hell and I want to see you before you go. You can’t just run away now. I won’t take no for an answer and that is that. Be at my apartment tonight around six. Bring wine. And a toothbrush.”

  Aferdita hung up before I could reply. I didn’t need a refresher course in predictive analysis to see where this path was headed. I could, of course, simply ignore her, toss the local cell I’d been using and call it quits. I was seriously tempted to do just that. I hate being told what to do, probably some deep seated complex with a multi-syllabic name. Or, has also been suggested on several occasions, I’m just a bloody minded autonomous asshole. The desire to move on, maybe even leave early was strong. Maintaining my autonomy has been a major part of my personality for as far back as I can remember. It’s caused me trouble, of course, but it’s too deeply ingrained to leave it now and the reflexive response was immediate. Then again, the little guy with the pitchfork on my left shoulder, otherwise identical to the guy on my right but there simply for secondary opinions, noted that the things you didn’t do were usually the ones you regretted the most. Aferdita was a beautiful, intelligent and highly courageous woman, the kind to which I was normally attracted. Sure this couldn’t possibly lead anywhere, she seemed to know that and there was no harm then in two consenting adults being, well…adult. This required some consideration and after wrestling with the concepts for a while I finally decided I’d show up, make sure she had no illusions that required correction and see where a goodbye and good luck dinner took us.

  If this seems a bit of a strange response from a healthy heterosexual male, remember, James Bond etc. and the swinging bachelor lifestyle is fiction. Dangerous fiction for an operator. As a female instructor once told a group of clandestine ops trainees, myself included, “pussy will fuck you up.” She intended no irony and her point was well taken. Sex and money are the two primary causes of compromise for operators and should be approached by professionals with as much caution as a potential IED. It’s important to always question oneself and one’s motives. Any other approach can all too easily end in disaster. And the juvenile displays of testosterone overload and macho posturing you see in some “operator” types employed as close protection or in similar muscle head jobs? Nothing wrong with women, money or the pursuit of both but they can all too easily blind or warp priorities. The display of a knee jerk response and attachment to either is a warning sign for those selecting operations personnel for my world. That kind of attitude and behavior is a clear indicator of a lack of the self-control and confidence needed in true covert activities.

  So it took me a while of careful reflection and thought before I decided to do what most men would be rushing headlong to accept. I would go, we’d see what happened on terms I found acceptable and that would be that. I wasn’t going to let anything, including biology, control me. To put it another way, I’m the boss of me.

  I spent the rest of the day packing the few items I had left to toss in the Pelican. It then went in the trunk of the BMW which I planned on driving back into Greece to turn in to the rental agency. I still wasn’t sure where I’d go from there. Probably the Low Countries. I really enjoyed them in winter and it was coming on fast. I’d already given my final report to Steve, gotten his sign off and had my pay deposited into one of the two off shore accounts I use. I’d transfer money to the HSBC and Credit Suisse accounts I used in Europe once I was in Athens. So, after tonight, I was footloose and fancy free for a bit. Cold weather, snowcapped medieval towns and snug bars with roaring fires and excellent beer beckoned. All this had me in a good mood when I arrived at the safe house apartment in which Aferdita had remained.

  Knocking on the door I watched for the peephole to darken and then held up the bottle of a Grand Cru from what I was assured was an excellent vintner in France. I wouldn’t know as its all spoiled grape juice to me. Brewers and distillers get my business. I’ll drink the stuff if required but it’s not my preference. The peephole lightened again and I made a mental note to explain to Aferdita why it was a good idea to block the thing over on the inside with something she could move aside thus not allowing someone outside to know she was at the door. I promptly forgot that when the door opened fully. Aferdita was wearing nothing out of the ordinary for this part of the world, just a pair of the skin tight black leggings women here favored, topped by a shimmery dark gray blouse with short sleeves and a plunging but tasteful neckline. Her feet were bare and her hair was up in a casual sweep with strands falling artfully over her forehead and neck in a way that was too perfectly placed to be random. She wore small diamond earrings, no necklace and had two gold bangles on her left wrist. If she wore makeup it was so artfully applied that I didn’t notice. Like I said, nothing spectacular but the effect was considerable, especially when she smiled, reached out lazily and scratched my abs lightly.

  “OK, don’t just stand there staring. Come on in.” Aferdita’s smile turned into a very happy grin as she turned away and walked across the living room entryway toward the kitchen. There was a small fire in the fireplace, a table already laid out with a white cloth, silverware and plates etc. The lights were on as normal, this wasn’t some hooker’s pad in Amsterdam, just the neat and clean apart
ment of a grown woman who didn’t seem to play games and appreciated directness. I did as she asked, walking bemusedly through the door. I wasn’t so distracted that I forgot to make a visual sweep of the outside as I closed and locked it but professionalism was getting a run for its money. Making my way to the kitchen/eating area, I handed the wine to Aferdita, got a warm kiss in return and then looked for a place to drop my coat. Women like Aferdita have a way of making their entire environment look as complete and subtly nuanced as they are. I felt a bit out of place in my Levi’s, polo shirt and Clark’s but then again, I am never going to be mistaken for Beau Brummel. I tossed my Beaufort onto a chair beside the sofa and turned in time to catch the cold Schumacher Latzenbier tossed my way.

  Aferdita’s grin was a combination of innocent happiness and wicked glee, something one has to see to fully appreciate. I felt it in my gut like a well-placed hook.

  “I remember you saying you like dark German beer. Enjoy. We’ll have the wine with dinner and something else later.”

  The double entendre, if such it were, was delivered with smooth innocence. I grinned back, raised the bottle in salute and stepped to the sink to work the opening lever. Aferdita passed me two glasses and a minute later we were clinking them together, looking at each other over the foam.

  “Confusion to the enemy.”

  “Gezuar.”

  The beer was everything one expects from an altbier, strong and full of flavor. I could feel myself dropping some of the tension and general bad attitude with which I normally shield myself from the world. The combination of atmosphere, company and promise was working a magic I had rarely felt and which, this time anyway, I had no reason to resist. I let myself relax, trying to turn into the guy I might have been instead of the one I’d purposefully become. This was just for one night and I didn’t want my reflexive, paranoid nature to spoil something which Aferdita had obviously carefully planned and in which she was taking a great deal of delight. I had no true way of understanding the horrors through which she had lived and if this helped, I was glad she’d picked me for the job. I took another mouthful of the Latzenbier and followed as she took me by the hand and led me to the sofa.

  The next half hour or so passed in a mix of conversation, laughter and an increasing sense of wellbeing. Aferdita was open and talkative, something that seemed natural to her personality. She spoke of growing up in Peja, her love for the mountains and the hardships they had endured during the war. We kept off the subjects likely to spoil the mood, such as her brother, the time after the war and what she had been through. Instead I asked if she’d gotten any further in her plans for the future. That topic took us through bringing out the food, an excellent roast if it matters, eating it and into dessert. The wine went well with the meal, a bit of luck as I’d picked it more on recommendation and with no idea what we’d be eating. I learned a lot more about the world of fashion design and specialty store buying than I had suspected existed. Not that I was bored, knowledge of many things is the sword unseen after all and hearing an expert speak of a subject they passionately enjoy is always a good way to learn. When the expert is a gorgeous woman who likes you and isn’t shy about making that known the effort required to pay attention and participate in the conversation is no real effort at all. The meal, good as it was, passed by in an only marginally registered blur as the conversation and deepening attraction held center stage.

  We finished dessert, a sort of cherry torte, cleared the dishes and settled back on the sofa with a bottle of Courvoisier and two snifters. The talk had settled from the rush of happy enjoyment and future plans to a more leisurely pursuit of movies we both enjoyed, the meanings behind these films and life in general. I was full, relaxed, contented and enjoying myself in a way that was, for me, extremely rare. Aferdita was a very unique combination of personality traits with a quick mind and developed insight. Beautiful only gets you so far; the truly interesting part of any female is between her ears not her limbs. Aferdita did not disappoint on this score. Finding a woman with her sense of style, sophistication and looks combined with her intelligence and charm was like seeing the sun rise over the Rockies for the first time. I flashed on the old John Denver tune and had to say he was onto something there. My senses were certainly on overload. As I completed that thought, Aferdita tossed back the remains of her brandy and placed the glass on the coffee table. She rose smoothly, uncurling her legs from where they had been folded beneath her as she sat on the sofa half facing me. Keeping her eyes on mine, she brought both hands to her head where she did something that caused her hair to fall in shimmering waves of midnight around her face and over her shoulders. She dropped some pins on the table and then, extending her hand, she flashed me the same wicked grin I’d seen when I arrived. I took her hand and without a word, she drew me up to my feet and after her to the bedroom.

  What happened after that is nobody’s damn business but ours.

  I awoke with a start, sitting up and trying desperately to get my bearings and interpret the sounds which had woken me. It was still night, no light shown around the edges of the window blinds. I was in Aferdita’s bed, she was sleeping on her side facing me, just now rolling over and opening her eyes in confusion. The bed was a double crammed into a smallish room which also contained an armoire, nightstand and chest of drawers. My Panerai sat on the nightstand but I couldn’t read the hands at this distance in the dark. My interest in the time disappeared in any case as I heard the sounds of heavy feet rushing through the apartment just before the bedroom door was kicked open. I was already moving, rolling out to the side and coming to my feet as the door slammed back against the wall. A bright light hit my face and from behind it came a harsh command to stand still. Something in the position of the light and the play of shadows told me it was attached to a pistol and I obeyed the command, as yet uncertain of who was behind the light and still too far away to act.

  The lights came on and I saw a large guy with dark hair, wearing a leather jacket over a sweater and jeans. He was aiming a Glock 19 with a rail mounted flashlight at me. Beside him, just dropping his hand from the light switch, stood Enver. I heard Aferdita gasp as Enver, with an unpleasant, nasty grin, raised his hand and shot me with a strange black pistol. I realized a fraction of a second after he pulled the trigger that it looked strange because it was a Taser, not a real firearm. The probes hit me square on and the jolt of pain took me down before I could react. My muscles simply locked and I dropped forward and to the side, unable to move, catch myself or even breathe. It felt like fire was running along my neural pathways. I vaguely heard a scream but was too racked to register it clearly. I knew it wasn’t me because with my muscles locked I couldn’t breathe. I felt the shock of hitting the floor and a moment later the pain stopped and I felt myself shudder and twitch as my body came back on line. I was on my left side, half curled in a fetal position, pretty much like the posture in which you find the corpse of someone who has died in a fire. Not my most pleasant thought. The guy with the Glock had stepped forward and he now dropped to a knee and placed the Glock to my head.

  Actually, placed is somewhat inaccurate. He shoved the Glock against my head, driving my skull into the floor. He grinned as he did so and fished in his jacket pocket. I knew I could move fast enough to get the muzzle off me and cause his shot to go into the floor but was too cramped by the bed and my prone position to be able to follow up effectively. I heard Enver laughing and the sound of flesh hitting flesh and a body falling on the far side of the bed.

  Fuck. Somebody was going to die tonight. Me, them, still unsure, but this was the last night for somebody. I felt the cold rage settle over me like a familiar blanket and rolled my head under the pressure of the Glock to see what my new buddy was doing. It turns out he was pulling an already assembled plastic wire tie from his pocket. It looked like just an industrial strength wire tie rather than actual flex cuffs. That was good since they are much easier to defeat than flex cuffs. I slipped into hostage survival mode without conscious
thought. Training, if it’s realistic and effective, tends to take over and I was already letting the tension drain from my muscles, slumping as if defeated and bringing my hands out in front meekly. This was, of course, designed to make Dumbass here feel like he was the man, totally in control and I was a worm crushed beneath his mighty tread. It works more often than you’d expect unless the other guy has the same training and won’t fall for what he wants to see. Dumbass hadn’t been trained or had forgotten his training as he quickly caught my hands in the loop and gave the pull cord a savage yank, closing the loop and causing the wire ties to bite into the sides of my wrists. He grinned sadistically and stepped back, standing upright and pulling me up by my cuffed wrists. Just to be clear, I’d tagged him Dumbass since he was acting in a manner that was entirely stupid. Unless there is some compelling tactical requirement such as the need to use one’s hands to assist in climbing a ladder or some similar exception, it is the height of stupidity to cuff a prisoner in the front. It gives him continued freedom of movement, doesn’t stop him from effective use of weapons or unarmed combat and makes escape from restraints much more easy. And if someone offers their hands to you, watch out. It’s either a come on or something they want to happen in a specific way. At the least it means they have been here before. A competent operator won’t fall for the easy way and be in a rush to “secure” them. He or she will do it right, do it their way and be sure it is complete. Dumbass, being a fuck wit, failed to follow these simple rules. Which left me standing, cuffed with wire ties, with my hands in front of me and in a posture that permitted easy escape. This was gonna be an expensive lesson for him.

  It wasn’t going to happen anytime soon however. The probes from the Taser had been pulled off my chest as I fell but Dumbass yanked me quickly through the bedroom door before I could catch my balance. There I found two other guys, one of whom was Oakleys, grinning happily and also aiming weapons at me. The part of my mind that notices things like that registered the weapons as two more Glock 19s. Maybe there was a sale at Thugs R Us. Oakleys wasn’t wearing the shades which got him his tag but he was recognizable enough by now that I didn’t need the visual reference. His partner was wearing a suede jacket rather than the dark black leather preferred by his comrades and I mentally christened him Suede. Not too clever but I was still a bit scrambled from shock, mental and physical. Oakleys reached out, grasped my upper arm and started pushing me toward the apartment door. I could see it hanging off one hinge where it had been forced open. That sound had been what brought me out of a deep sleep. Lying on the floor of the entrance area was a post hole digger filled with cement. A good enough field expedient battering ram, quite capable of taking out a door like this one. I stumbled across the living room, partly playing the frightened and stunned hostage, partly because my body was still adjusting to the Taser as well as the adrenaline coursing through my system. I was wearing only my shorts, a pair of Under Armour briefs, and the cold air that hit me as we left the apartment helped dissipate the lingering after effects of the Taser.

  I’d tried to see what was happening with Aferdita as I was hustled out but aside from a last glimpse of Enver bending over her as she lay curled on the floor beside the bed, I saw nothing helpful. I stumbled and fell as we crossed the small hallway that joined the first floor apartments and the stairs to the main entrance. I wanted to buy time and the fall provided it. Oakleys cursed as my fall almost unbalanced him too. He kicked me hard as I struggled to my feet, hitting my hip and making himself feel better. I rolled with the kick, bouncing off the wall and making it look like it had hurt me by doubling over slightly and grunting. Oakleys snatched my elbow and resumed hustling me out of the building. As we exited, I saw a dark BMW SUV idling at the curb. Behind it was a black Lexus. Drivers were standing by both vehicles and the BMW driver moved to the rear when he saw us. By the time we crossed the snowy pavement, he had the rear hatch open and I was shoved unceremoniously into the confined space. I scrambled forward, turning to sit with my back to the street side windows so I could still view the entrance to the safe house apartment block. Oakleys slammed the hatch and then climbed into the front passenger seat. The driver returned to his seat as Suede slid into the rear passenger seat directly in front of me. He pushed his Glock over the back of the rear seat, aiming at me and grinning a sadistic little grin. Whatever he said was in Serbian and I couldn’t follow it.

  It didn’t sound like he was wishing me well though.

  Looking out through the rear hatch and side windows I saw Enver and the remaining thug, Dumbass, come out of the apartment building. Dumbass was dragging Aferdita by one arm. She was stumbling, her head down, long black hair, still sleep tousled, obscuring her face. She had on a long t shirt in which she slept but no other clothing or shoes. Enver opened the rear door of the Lexus; Dumbass half threw, half pushed her in and then followed. Enver climbed into the front of the Lexus, giving a forward wave to us as he did. Our driver shifted to first and pulled away smoothly. In less than a minute we were lost in a maze of neighborhood streets, drifting through the quiet early morning darkness as a light snow fall settled on the city.

  This wasn’t turning out the way I had intended. It was high time I switched on before Aferdita and I both wound up dead. I began to take deep breaths, carefully keeping my head down, eyes averted and hiding the breaths. I was going to need the calmness and centered ability to utilize fine motor skills in order to escape. Getting the adrenaline and fear under control was the first step on the road back to life. I sat there, breathing and planning, as we crossed the silent city and entered the M1 heading south.