Evil Deeds (Bob Danforth 1) (46 page)
Read Evil Deeds (Bob Danforth 1) Online
Authors: Joseph Badal
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Thrillers, #Spy Stories & Tales of Intrigue, #Espionage
Captain Sokic led his four men up the rocky Serbian hillside, setting a blistering pace. They’d all pushed the envelope during the past week, honing their physical condition, and today had been no exception. Their packs loaded with fifty pounds of sand, they’d already run ten miles. Scaling this cliff face would put them on the mesa above their base camp. From the top of the mesa they would run two miles to their barracks.
Sokic rehashed his plan while he dug his boots into spaces between the rocks. Like a chess player, he wanted to anticipate every contingency. Not only because he and his men would soon put themselves in jeopardy. But also because he knew General Plodic would question him, to be certain they were all prepared.
I still have two weeks before we execute the mission, he thought. By then my men will be ready. He would tirelessly train his unit. They would know what to expect from the Americans. They would be perfect imitations of Bosnian refugees.
Sokic already knew everything about Captain Michael Danforth’s background and training. The Serb Intelligence Service had done its job well. He knew where Danforth had gone to school. What special training he’d had. Even what his grades were. Danforth was a highly trained combat soldier, but Sokic felt confident the man would be no match for his SPETSNAZ team. He and his men would succeed. And if they had the opportunity to kill a few Americans, maybe even some Albanian or Bosnian dogs along the way, so much the better.
Michael and another officer, Captain Khalid Ibrahim, from the Germantown section of Philadelphia, left the 82nd’s base camp at 9 a.m., drove the mile to the refugee camp where they picked up the most current camp census, and then went twenty miles to Kumanovo. NATO military officers who had been working in the field with the refugees had been ordered to Kumanovo to brief NATO Headquarters representatives on their observations. The meeting lasted two hours and broke up at noon.
“What say we grab a bite here in town?” Khalid said when they walked out of the NATO offices.
“What’s the matter, Khalid, tired of Army rations?”
“In a word, yes!”
“Me too,” Michael said. He laughed and slapped Khalid on the back. “I hear there’s a great place a couple blocks from here that serves Middle Eastern food. The owner of the place, like most of the people around the area, is probably Muslim. When he hears your name he’ll treat you like a long-lost relative.”
“I doubt he has any relatives of the African persuasion. And what, with my luck, if the guy is an orthodox Christian – not Muslim. He’ll poison my food. So, do me a favor and keep your trap shut.”
Now behind the wheel of the Jeep, Michael laughed while he drove through the narrow Kumanovo streets, until he found the Sultan Restaurant. Parking across the street, he followed Khalid onto the restaurant patio and sat opposite his friend at an outdoor table under a grape arbor.
“These places are all beginning to look the same to me,” Khalid said. “Same small, square wooden tables and narrow cane chairs. Uneven brick floors on a sand base. Plastic flowers on red and white oil cloth-covered tables.”
“Well, excuse me, Khalid. Maybe we should just go back to the base and eat in the mess hall.”
“Asshole!” Khalid laughed. “I was about to say how much I love these quaint southern European restaurants.”
As they sat talking, Michael noticed a phone booth across the street.
“I wonder how my folks would feel about a collect call from Macedonia?”
“Why, they’d consider you the most thoughtful, loving son in the world,” Khalid said.
Michael smiled. “As usual, Khalid, you are a wise and thoughtful friend, and a fine student of human nature. You’ve made me realize I’d be a real bastard if I didn’t pick up the phone and call home – collect.”
He crossed the street and dialed the operator. In three minutes, he heard his father’s deep voice, “Yes, yes, I’ll accept the charges! Michael, Michael, can you hear me? Are you okay? It’s four o’clock in the morning.”
“Oh, Jesus, Dad. I didn’t even think about the time difference.”
“No, no. Don’t worry about that. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“I got your letter, Michael,” Bob said.
Damn! Michael thought. I wish I hadn’t sent it while I was still angry with Dad. “I’m sorry about the tone of the letter, Dad. But I was pretty steamed at the time.”
Liz’s voice suddenly came over the line. “Hi, I’m on the extension. What are you two talking about?”
“Honey, if you wouldn’t mind, could you give Michael and me a moment?”
Michael heard silence. He knew his mother wouldn’t like getting off the phone one bit.
“We’ll only be a minute. Then you can get back on again,” Bob said.
Michael heard his mother replace the receiver in its cradle a little more forcefully than necessary. “You’re in for a tense evening, Dad.”
“You don’t know the half of it. Listen, I didn’t tell your mother about your letter. No sense making her worry any more than she already is. She would’ve been sick if she’d thought you were upset so far from home.” He paused for a moment. “I admit I asked Jack Cole to intercede with the Pentagon on your behalf. But he’d already called over there – before I talked with him. We both wanted you completely out of the Balkans. I’d be much happier if the Army sent you back to the States. But it had less to do with the war over there, than that the guy who kidnapped Miriana swore he’d go after you in Yugoslavia.”
“Let him come. I’d love to get my hands on the sonofabitch.”
“This isn’t the time for testosterone overload, Mike,” Bob said. “You could be at risk of assassination or abduction, especially if you were to cross into Yugoslavia. Your men could be at risk as well. Keep your head down, son.”
“I haven’t heard you say that in years, Dad. ‘Keep your head down.’ Not since I was a kid.”
“You’re still my kid. Now I’m going to call your mother back to the phone. Talk nice to her. I don’t need her PO’ed more than she is already.”
Michael laughed and said, “You can count on me, Dad.”
“Oh, one other thing,” Bob said. “Jack Cole’s having someone drive Miriana out here this weekend, on Saturday. The three of us will have lunch together. She’s doing great, by the way.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Michael said, his heart doing a trapeze act in his chest. “I was going to ask Mom if she’d heard from Miriana.”
“I’ve kept an eye on her, Mike. I’ll give her your address so she can write. I assume you’d like that.”
“You assume right, Dad.”
“I miss you, son.”
Michael hesitated. He wasn’t used to his father expressing his emotions so openly. “Thanks, Dad.”
“I’ll get your mother. Liz, you can get on now,” Bob shouted.
Bob heard Liz pick up the receiver in the kitchen. “It’s nice of you to let me finally talk to my son,” she said sarcastically.
Michael hung up the phone after talking with his mother for a few minutes and crossed back over to the cafe.
“What’s with the shit-eating grin?” Khalid asked.
Michael laughed. “Gonna have a little surprise for someone this coming Saturday.” He felt a shiver of excitement course through him.
Colonel Sweeney finally found a Gypsy woman who could read and write both Roma and English. It took her a week to translate the statements that Stefan had gathered. But from the first pages onward, Dennis Sweeney knew he’d struck gold. He located many of the refugees Radko had interviewed, isolated them in a separate compound, then contacted the NATO field commander in Macedonia who, in turn, brought in people out of NATO Headquarters in Brussels. Investigators from NATO and the War Crimes Tribunal in The Hague, already in Macedonia, met with Stefan and Vanja.
“What motivated you to do this?” the Chief Investigator from The Hague asked.
Stefan looked surprised at the question. “Is it not our responsibility to bring the criminals committing these atrocities to justice?” he said with furrowed brow, trying not to laugh at the way he was playing this idiot.
“Of course, Mr. Radko. But few people would go to the effort you and your wife did. I compliment you. You saved us weeks of work, and the detail you have provided is amazing.”
“We are happy to be of assistance.”
“Is there anything we can do to show our appreciation?” the Chief Investigator asked.
“There is a favor I would ask: Help my wife, son, and me get out of Macedonia. We have learned our daughter has gone to the United States. We want to join her.”
The Chief Investigator thought he saw tears in Stefan’s eyes. “Yes, Colonel Sweeney already mentioned this to us,” he said. “I’ll do everything I can, Mr. Radko. But, of course, we’ll need you to remain in Macedonia until we talk to all the victims and eyewitnesses you interviewed. I’m sure you’ll get a great deal of personal satisfaction assisting us in the questioning, seeing this through to the end.”
Stefan’s mouth tightened, as though he’d sucked on a lemon.
