PTER TARJNYIRITA DOSEK

The Balkan's Angels

LAMA PLUS Events in the book are partly based on real-life events, but names, locations, dates, and the plot are a work of fiction. Any similarity or likeness to any events or persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Pter Tarjnyi, Rita Dosek 2010 Lama Plus Ltd., Budapest ISBN 978-963-89396-0-9

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written of the Publisher, except where permitted by law.

The Hungarian text was proofread by Sndor Horvth, Lszl Kiss and Zsfia Kevi Technical editorial manager was Zulejka Kuha Composed by Pter Budai English translation 2011 Balzs Bujna The English text was supervised by Judit Kdas Published by Lama Plus Ltd. www.balkansangels.com

Part One

SOUTH OFTREBNICA, BOSNIA JULY 11, 1995 05:07 AM

Tom and Lvai were heading towards the next cache over the steep road through the forest. They had left the bicycles atthe foot ofthe cliff. They advanced along the path that ran five feet from the cliff edge, under the cover oftrees and shrubbery. Their clothing blended into the scenery. The speckles ofshadow and light completely concealed their similarly patterned fatigues. They nevertheless moved cautiously, asone can never betoo careful. Both men were intheir twenties, and their greenhorn looks belied the fact that they had already seen plenty ofaction. Officers ofthe Hungarian Special Forces, they were conducting reconnaissance inthe area, aswell asproviding protection todiplomatic envoys with athird team-member. Tom, that is, Tams Erkel, led the way. The mid-height, muscular, brown-eyed man with close-cropped brown hair and aboyish face could swiftly infiltrate any organization. His sharp wits and aptitude made him rise inthe ranks quickly. The grooves ofage had not yet etched history onhis face, which radiated with youthful fervor and the urge tomake adifference. This deployment practically opened upnew vistas inhis life. Being highest inrank, hewas the leader ofthe battle company. Hehad been promoted tocaptain only afew weeks before. A foreign mission under mycommand! Free rein! hethought tohimself. His minds eye drifted back tosee admiration gleam inhis fathers eyes when heshowed him his commission. Thats myboy! his father said, patting him onthe shoulder. Being promoted tosuch anelevated rank atmerely 26is nomean feat. Iamproud ofyou! Tom was overjoyed tohear his fathers words, ashe had worked hard for the accolade, and the old man was never one toshower praise onanyone. Come tothink ofit, this might have been the first time hehad received such earnest recognition from him. Tom wanted totell him that hewas going tolead anindependent mission into the Balkans, but hecould not. Ill tell him all about itwhen weget home, hethought, quickening his pace. Ern Lvai ambled not far behind him. Hewas ayoung lad, taller and leaner than his companion. His mid-length, light brown, slicked back hair, and his intelligent eyes made him look more like auniversity student than aseasoned commando. This was exactly why they were favored when itcame toworking undercover the last thing they resembled were warriors. Despite being just 25, Lvai had plunged early into the thick oflife. For aslong ashe could remember,

hehad always wanted tobe apoliceman, and carry out special operations. His exceptional abilities and extraordinary application soon earned him aplace atthe academy, and there was nostopping him after graduation, until hemade itto the Special Forces. Both men had already been baptized byfire. Pinching armed robbers ordrugsmugglers was everyday routine for them, and they frequently put upwith hostilities inthe process. This mission was, however, something different, something much more than they had ever done before. Anopportunity for rapid advancement! Orso they hoped. Itwas still early inthe morning, but the birds had already started their dawn concert; the whole countryside was ringing with the sound. Alittle village oftiny houses huddled inthe valley that lay stretched out among the rugged mountains. Awinding road atthe foot ofthe mountain led towards the city. Atthis early hour, traffic inthe village was usually confined tobicycles. The women pedaled towards the town with milk churns hanging oneither side oftheir saddles, ready tosell their produce there. Anoccasional wagon popped uphere and there, and there was nothing unusual about seeing acouple oftrucks drive past onthe road below the footpath. Tom and his companions had set upnumerous caches inthe area. The concealed little dens doubled asstashes for weapons and communications gear, with potential exit routes planned indetail. The locations ofthe stockpiles onthe mountain were chosen sothat they offered anexcellent view ofthe surroundings, were accessible tothe men, yet still remained inconspicuous. Look! Lvai grabbed Toms shoulder and pulled him tothe ground. Aconvoy oflarge green military trucks was just then turning towards the village. Hardly had they turned their heads when the wind brought the hum ofyet more distant engines. Additional trucks came into view, this time travelling towards the town. Tom and Lvai caught sight ofablack SUV among the troop carriers. Who doyou think that is? asked Lvai. I cant see, the windows are tinted, Tom answered. Come on, were nearly there. Well see more with the SIG. They started off again, very carefully, making sure that no-one noticed them. The cache was bynow nomore than 50or soyards away. Assoon asthey got there, Lvai got out the SIG 2000 sniper rifle from next toacamouflaged tree stump, put its tripod mount onthe rock, and lay down behind it, ready tofire. The magazines were already inplace, and when hepicked itup, heintrinsically cocked the gun, even though hehad nointention toshoot. The telescopic sight brought the black car inextreme close-up. Tom took out aspecial monitoring device that was connected tothe rifle scope via acable, sothat hecould see whatever Lvai saw through the sights. The SUV pulled over atthe crossroads, letting the convoy pass. Amiddleaged, graying man got out from the backseat onthe side ofthe pasture. Hefumbled around inhis jacket pocket for awhile, then took out acigar and put

itin his mouth. Changing his mind, heabruptly put the cigar away with aslightly irritated gesture and dug out asingle piece ofhard candy from his pocket. Heunwrapped ithastily and, pulling afinicky face, put the sweet inhis mouth. Tom saw his facial muscles contract asthe mans teeth closed onthe mint-filled treat. The telescopic sights were sosophisticated that, had hewanted to, hecould have read off the brand name onthe sweets wrapping afew seconds earlier. Lvai adjusted the zoom onthe scope, choosing awider magnification level sothat they could take inthe man from head tofoot. The man was wearing afine shirt and asuit jacket ofelegant fabric, and anelemental coldness emanated from his gray eyes. The deep, characteristic grooves around his lips, the hawk-like nose, the contoured hairstyle, the neat, cleanly shaved face, and the oval head had been etched deep into the two friends minds, never tofade away. The scumbag! Lvai blurted out. We should have known! Atlast, wecan snuff him out! hesaid, with apparent pleasure, and afew moments later Tom saw the red light flick onon the sights ofthe precision rifle. The icon meant that the target isclear, the sniper isready and waiting for the order tofire. The whole situation was highly unexpected and incredible, not the least because they had been pursuing this man for weeks. Never inhis wildest dreams would Tom have thought that hewould simply amble into their sights, and practically present himself asatarget. Several thoughts raced through Toms head inasplit second. How easy itwould be. Asingle shot isall ittakes. This bastard would bewiped off the face ofthe earth. Heremembered how hehad seen him kill two men incold blood afew days before, infront oftheir very eyes. Heshot them asif they were mere manikins. Hethen vowed toget the man for this. And presto, here heis! And soare the bodyguards inthe car, bristling with guns, not tomention the hundreds ofsoldiers. Asingle shot and all isover. But all the other scumbags would scamper tosafety somewhere, and itwould take another fifty years tofind them. No, weneed totake them all, all atonce! Tom grappled with the voice ofreason and his urge toignore it. One shot and hes done for! Lvai seemed tobe voicing his own thoughts. And soare we! Tom answered. Look atall those soldiers! Awhole army! What onearth are they upto? Beats me. But theres going tobe trouble, Ican feel it! Tom peered atthe eyepiece again: the red icon was still on. Lvais finger, heknew, was still standing byon the trigger. Hemight even have pulled itback, ready tosend the 308 cartridge, with one last delicate movement, straight into the head ofGovernment Commissioner Marco Drakuli. Healso knew that the decision was all his. Leave it! hefinally said. We have noorders tokill him. Lets take the stuff weneed, and get out ofhere! Iftheres going tobe trouble, weneed totake care ofthe others.

Lvai grudgingly let the trigger slide back toposition, and started todig upthe equipment with lightning speed. Hepropped the diagram, drawn previously, against the rock, tosee where the weapons, the radio transmitter, the first aid kit, and the signal flares had been buried. Something told him that they would never beback here, sohe tried topack everything hedeemed important, and that hecould fit into the pannier. Lets get amove on! Tom said, himself picking atthe sods put inplace afew months before. The weather had bythis time leveled their dugout perfectly, the uninitiated would not have had any idea that they were standing ontop ofan arsenal ifthey did not know where tolook. Lvai looked upthe rifle first. Eight inches left ofthe rock, tothe north, atan angle of45 rifle- hekept repeating the details ofthe sketched map tohimself silently. Hemeasured off the starting point aspan from the rock, outlined the location ofthe weapon onthe ground with his finger, and started digging. The equipment was not buried very deep, itwas only about afoot under the ground. The disturbed sods were then easily dislodged. Hepeeled off the chicken wire from the rifle bag wrapped innylon, which was put inplace toeven out the weight and stop the ground over the hole being depressed ifsomebody should step over it. Hetook off the nylon bag and looked into the bag tomake sure. The disassembled Cover sniper rifle lay intact inits slots. Hequickly put itin the pannier, and started looking for the transmitter. Tom had meanwhile freed the flares and bandages, keeping aclose eye onthe road all the while. They could not pick upeverything, only asmuch ascould beinconspicuously carried away inthe panniers. Having secured what they could, they cautiously put the chicken wire and the sods back inplace. Nature would tidy itall upin time. This equipment might still beneeded sometime, perhaps years later. They shouldered the full bags and hastily made their way back. Ittook less time downhill, they reached the bicycles inten minutes, where they quickly took off their speckled fatigues, changed, and started off down the cliff side. They stopped for amoment before they reached the road, jerked their journalist IDs out from under their shirts, and started pedaling towards the town atarelaxed pace. This time, Lvai was infront, Tom followed him, staring atthe mudguard trembling infront ofhim, watching his environment from the corner ofhis eye. They knew they must not glance around too intently lest someone might get suspicious. They did not want tobe searched right now, they had more weapons than could beexplained away. They were wearing plain clothes, and chose old bikes toride, sothey did not stand out atall. They had their journalist IDs incase anybody did stop them, but they could not trust that international regulations would beobserved. The road was pretty run down, and the sudden military traffic forced them down onto the footpath along the shoulder, soit was only after more than half anhour that they reached the city limits again. Lvai slowed down abruptly, Tom managed tobrake just intime toavoid acollision.

Whats the idea? heasked. Look! Lvai indicated with his head. Tom noticed the trucks parked across the road infront ofthe town gates. This isabad sign! Ihave avery bad feeling about this, Tom responded gravely. Hetried todismiss his gloomy thoughts, invain. What should wedo? Lvai asked. Tom looked around. Large green trucks loomed atboth ends ofthe forking road, and more kept constantly arriving from behind their backs. We should pick upThe Resident and Little Cow, Tom decided. Little Cow can manage onhis own, but The Resident would never beable toget out once trouble starts tobrew. Lvai nodded inagreement, and rode ontowards the trucks. The Resident was the name they had given toFerenc Balsay, the intelligence officer working unofficially inthe area, commissioned bythe intelligence organization and the Ministry ofForeign Affairs, who was more spy than scout. Hehad amassed plenty ofcontacts over the preceding years, and was providing the Hungarian police and various departments ofthe Information Office with valuable information. Itwas Toms, Lvais, and Little Cows task toprotect Balsay. They were toescort him everywhere, under various covers whatever was necessary for The Resident todo his job. They usually worked with journalist covers, and thus were born Tom Cutter foreign correspondent, Georg Lvai photographer, and Kristian Hoff reporter, alias Little Cow. The latter was atthe moment holed upin the attic ofthe building opposite their base, watching the street and the flat where The Resident was located. Little Cow was the designated marksman ofthe team. Ithad been along time since anybody referred tohim byhis proper name. Heearned his nickname bybooking aTurkish money-forger named Mehemed. Mehemed, who knew nocow, isbusy nursing his wounds now, his companions teased him with the nursery rhyme for months, and Little Cow, the name ofacartoon character happily rocking about onhis tree-branch, stuck with him. Everybody liked the tall, brown-haired, athletic, easy-going lad, for hemade friends easily, and had aheart ofgold. Hespoke the Slavic languages well, was brilliant with every sort offirearm, aswell asbeing skilled inmartial arts. Hewas predominantly deployed for Serbian and Arabic missions. Hecould quickly win criminals trust, but could have his favorite PKM light machinegun ascompany ontop ofabuilding for several weeks onend ifneed dictated, always precisely aware ofwhere and when toshoot. This iswhy Tom designated him the sharpshooter ofthe team. The riders were now quite close tothe cordon where the soldiers were still sitting onthe cargo beds ofthe trucks, awaiting orders. The commander and the driver were standing beside the vehicles, smoking and chatting cheerfully, with the loaded AK-47s slung across their chests. Lvai slowed down, but was ignored. The outward-bound old woman was,

however, stopped, and made toturn back. Lvai eavesdropped ontheir conversation. Not allowed out now. Get back toyour house, one ofthe soldiers said, insolently blowing the cigarette smoke inthe old womans face. What happened? the woman asked, surprised. Train crash. Carrying some contagious material, the town might have tobe evacuated. Afew yards on, Lvai turned toTom. Did you hear that? I smell arat, Tom replied, shaking his head. Yeah, why cant they leave ifthe town isin danger? Its not that. Have you seen any trains round here? The realization struck Lvai. They had been scouting the area for six months now, and the nearest railroad was dozens ofmiles away. Hetoo became worried. Why should the towns entrances and junctions beclosed because ofan accident? Onthe main square they saw that all was quiet, their instincts nevertheless told them this might bethe calm before the storm. They finally reached the base. They had set uptheir headquarters onthe second floor ofahouse standing inadistant corner ofthe main square. The Resident was waiting for his contacts toshow themselves. Although the senior officer, pushing onforty, who had been appointed commander ofthe mission, hecomplied with Toms security decisions aslong asthese did not limit his activities. This was why henever strolled out ofthe house alone, orleft without notice. Healways let the team know about his meetings inadvance sothat they could prepare for his protection, and sometimes assigned them tasks the better tohold uphis cover story. Balsay was ahigh-ranking officer, and had been decorated several times for his services. Heknew his way around the spy world, was agood negotiator and could easily give false impressions about himself. Hespoke several languages and was well-acquainted with the workings ofthe criminal mind. There was one thing, however, that was beyond him: hehad noexperience inphysical combat, couldnt handle agun, and had always been exempted from PE. Heworked his way into the warriors world with his brains, not his physical aptitude. Lvai and Tom rushed upthe stairs two steps atatime. They rapped the agreed signal onthe door, which soon opened toreveal asleepy-looking Resident, his short brown hair disheveled. Tom did not wait for him tostep aside, but burst open the door and stormed into the room. We have toleave! hecame tothe point harshly, while Lvai took one last look down the corridor, cautiously closed the door, and, out ofsheer habit, stepped out ofthe line ofthe windows. What? Where? The Resident asked listlessly. Away from this place! Wehave toget away! Tom explained, even while already packing the most important stuff. Balsay was wide awake inan instant.

What the hell are you talking about? heburst out. I have ameeting this afternoon. Ittook mealmost two months toset itup. Were not going anywhere! hesaid, blocking Toms way. The town isbeing sealed off! Tom replied. The shit hit the fan, something real bad isbrewing. Wehave toscram while wecan. The Resident looked atLvai, who nodded inagreement, confirming what the other had said. Balsay stepped over tothe window. Tom instinctively grabbed him and pulled him out ofthe line offire. Chill out! The Resident looked athim with indignation. I just want toverify the intel. But hedidnt step infront ofthe window again, only peered out sideways. The sun shone down brightly inthe sky, with afew cirrocumuli tokeep itcompany. Children were chasing one another inthe cobbled streets. The circulated water babbled with afamiliar sound asit was piped into the pool from underneath the statue angels wings onthe decorative fountain inthe main square. Left ofthe fountain, inold Mirtis cafe, people were reading the days news cheerily, washing itdown with pastries and their morning coffee. Itwas business asusual atthe butchers opposite the flat, and the boss was talking amiably with some ofhis customers. The elderly Mrs. Mirti was sitting onthe bench bythe fountain, feeding the pigeons aswas her custom. See for yourself! Where isthis invasion, this blockade? Were staying! Tom reached for the transmitter, irritated. Cow, you there? heasked. Yes, chief, standing by! came Little Cows buoyant voice over the receiver. Put inyour earphones, Iwant you tohear our every word, Tom commanded. Can you see any military activity inthe town? Little Cow had made himself comfortable inthe loft ofthe tallest house opposite the flat, granting him aview ofthe whole area. All iscalm inthe town, nosoldiers anywhere. See? said The Resident cynically. And elsewhere? Tom pressed him. At the strategic points,, came the depressing answer. Trucks are blocking every exit. Icant see any movement yet, theyre probably sitting onthe cargo beds. Tom raised his eyebrows inasort ofWhat did Itell you?-fashion. What doyou think theyre upto? The Resident asked again. Well learn that from the six oclock news, hundreds ofmiles from here!,Tom looked athim, but saw that this was not good enough. You ofall people should know better! Were sitting onapowder keg, ready toblow. The Muslims and the Orthodox Christians are crying for each others blood. This wouldnt bethe first time inhistory that they clash. Its not the best policy tobe aBosniak around here nowadays. Were noBosniaks. Keep your shirt on, they cant touch journalists. Their only problem isthat theyre worried about their economy and scared shitless that distant Arabic relatives might come inand pocket their profits. Its not ustheyre

after. Were not intheir good books either. You know aswell asIdothats not how things goaround here. Ifchaos erupts, no-one will care what religion you are! Recent years have shown that. Alot ofCroatians, Serbians, and who knows what other nationals could tell you about it. Im not convinced, The Resident insisted. My task isto protect you. When Isay go, wego! Not sofast! the intelligence officer, sleepy just amoment before, was now incensed. As far asIknow, Im the senior officer around here! You are amere advisor, Im the one calling the shots. Iwont have you wreck two months work just because youve chickened out! Its your life atstake. All our lives, Lvai entered the discussion toback Tom up. The Resident continued inacalmer tone. My informant will come this afternoon, atthree. Ifhe cant find me, hell beback tomorrow morning, ateight. IfIm still not around, hell disappear for months, heexplained. I cant just call him next week totell him, Sorry mate, Iwas sick. You get me? You know how these things go. Ifyoure not there, theyll think you got caught, ortheres something you forgot totell them, and wont contact you again. Ittook mealot oftime and effort toget tothis man. Icant gorisking that they wont learn about the new drug route back home based onahunch. Tom knew the spy was right, perhaps even empathized with him, but the alarm bells kept ringing inhis head: Get out while you can! And Icant gorisking your life! heclung tohis convictions. Then bring mesome tangible evidence! What? Ahuman head? Anintercepted command? Are you out ofyour mind? Toms voice rang with anger again. Lets godown and ask them. Come again? Were journalists, arent we? They cant touch us. Wed just beinterested inall the hubbub. Wed becrazy tohand ourselves over onaplate. All right, then wewont budge. Tom nearly exploded with impotent rage. Fists clenched, heonce again drew closer tothe window, from the side, soas not topresent aneasy target. Hesaw two trucks turning into the street onthe opposite side ofthe square. Four soldiers were watching the street below them from amilitary jeep. Heknew their situation was worsening, and time was running out. Fine, hedecided, surprising both Lvai and Little Cow. Have your most important things ready. Iftheres trouble, beprepared tomake agofor it! hebriefed the victorious spy. Youre not coming with us. Im going down with Lvai. You copy, Cow? Copy that, Cow said, putting the 150-cartridge magazines next tothe PKM machine-gun. The PKM isareal chaos-generator and area-controlling weapon,

which iswhy Little Cow cherished itso much. Although itwas not agun for marksmen, this was noregular marksman task. Hewas tocover his companions from above, which required copious amounts ofammunition. His legendary calm had vanished Tom was making adangerous move, openly entering asituation inwhich they could be, atbest, captured, atworst, get engaged inarmed combat. His internal alarm bells had also been tripped bywhat hehad seen inthe town, but hehad kept quiet because hetrusted Tom. Heslowly emptied his mind, and, taking three orfour deep breaths, readied himself for the fight. Marco Drakuli was standing next tothe car, watching asthe green trucks, like bees from abeehive, swarmed out ofthe apiary athis bidding. The drivers drove around the black SUV parked atthe wayside, and when they noticed who was standing beside it, they saluted the government commissioner. Hewas the right hand man ofDrazen Gojkovi, the president reigning over Serbia. Why did westop here? Jaroslav Obradkovi, the young officer sitting atthe wheel asked diffidently. Hethought ofhimself asDrakulis sidekick. Headmired the commissioner, and looked upto him ashis mentor itwas the greatest day inhis life when Drakuli asked him tobecome his personal bodyguard. The commissioner had noreal need ofprotection, and considered itadrawback ofhis rank tohave tokeep abodyguard, but rules were rules, sohe appointed the first private hecame across tocomply with president Gojkovi. Marco, you play amajor role inshaping Serbias future. Itis appropriate that you protect yourself accordingly, the president had said tohim one day. I can take care ofmyself, Drazen. Ihave enough men atmy house, and know who tocall iftheres trouble. Idont want anyone breathing down myneck, Drakuli shrugged. Its not only about protection. You need someone for prestige. You have avery influential family, Gojkovi referred tothe extensive network ofcontacts incontrol ofthe Drakuli family. His brother was commander ofthe army, his sister-in-law dominated the construction industry, while the cousinhood held sway over the pharmaceutics industry and the real estate business. The war was making them all immensely rich. Itwas noaccident that the president had chosen him asspecial government commissioner. Such adelicate task called for atrustworthy man ofno mean influence. Hewas thus put incharge ofrequisitions inthe occupied territories, the selling off ofantique art and other seized valuables, and laundering the money that entered the treasury. Hedid not disappoint Gojkovi healways knew how much and when toinvest ortake away, and where the money should come from inorder that the war for the Serbian nation should end invictory. I dont want you getting hurt.

Drakuli did not want toargue with the short-tempered president over such atrifling matter, and soonce outside his door, appointed the greenest-looking young officer who crossed his path. This was Jaroslav Obradkovi, who thought his lucky star had shone onhim that day. Fresh out ofmilitary school, and already insuch adistinguished post. The commissioner had probably read his file, and must have noted his grandfathers name, who had been ahigh-ranking officer inthe Drina legion, hethought. Obradkovi was very proud ofhis ancestors, and studied with inhuman application tolive upto their names. Hewas atwenty-two-year-old, brown-eyed, brown-haired youth whose beard had just started. Hekept close toDrakuli whenever hecould, although the commissioner mostly only took him along when heneeded totravel somewhere. What did you say? Drakuli asked. Hecould hardly hear himself talk through the noise ofthe trucks. I asked why westopped, Obradkovi repeated. It isalways good tosee for yourself whether your orders are carried out properly, the commissioner answered inan educational tone. Hecould not shed his original profession; hewas ateacher incivilian life, and henever missed anopportunity tofurnish Obradkovi with some helpful advice. Not because hewas that fond ofhim, but only tokeep upappearances. Lets goback toheadquarters! heordered his driver, getting back into the car. Obradkovi looked athim inthe rear-view mirror. Hewas quite annoyed with his charge for not letting him get out ofthe car, and otherwise disregarding security regulations. Hewanted todo his job properly, but Drakuli frequently sabotaged his intentions. The vest, sir, hetried again, alluding tothe bulletproof vest. Nonsense, this isall Ineed, said Drakuli, taking his bone-grip Beretta 92, embossed with silver etchings, out ofhis shoulder holster. Lets hope that will not benecessary, said the boy, tightening his grip onthe downward-pointing Kalashnikov held between his legs. That iswhy youre here with me, said Drakuli, putting his gun away. One bodyguard isno bodyguard, Obradkovi muttered under his breath, scanning the road. Hewas agood soldier, trained bythe best instructors, but hecould work nowonders. Hewas fully aware that Drakuli only hauled him along out ofobligation, hewas nevertheless grateful that hewas the one chosen for this task. Whats that, myboy? asked Drakuli with ablack look. Nothing, its just that Icant make myself useful, sir, the boy answered. Well get you some suitable job, the commissioner said coldly. That will teach you. Alesson, hefinished the sentence tohimself. Headquarters were set upabout twelve miles from the town, inone ofpresident Gojkovis residences, because hewanted totake part inimportant decisions himself. General Milorad Vukovi and the president were already waiting for Drakuli inthe conference room.

What isthe situation like onthe ground? Gojkovi asked the government commissioner when heentered. Strategically important positions are being occupied, Drakuli answered. Although hewas nosoldier, Gojkovi was always interested inhis opinion onmilitary matters, ashe considered him anexcellent strategist. Not inamilitary but abusiness sense. What about the houses? Ive arranged everything, the commissioner replied. The houses wont beharmed. Gojkovi leant back with satisfaction atthe other end ofthe oval table. Tell the soldiers why were doing this, hesaid, taking adraw onhis cigarette. Yes, sir, General Vukovi jerked upright. The government commissioner bit into his third candy that day absent-mindedly, looking atthe paintings onthe walls. The china cabinets held devotional objects, the wall opposite was decorated with weapons. Drazen Gojkovi was personally ordering General Vukovi tocapture the town. The commissioner noted the developments contentedly. Precisely ashe expected. Hequickly convinced the president why itwas important tostart relocating the population assoon aspossible. Acquiring the goods and chattels and resalable valuables arguments duly laced with national ideology and appropriate national passion really made itan obvious decision. We can finally strike back! nodded the president. We shall commence sealing off the area atthe first opportune moment. The Russians have briefed me. The area isnot under spy satellite surveillance, President Gojkovi squinted knowingly, stood up, and walked over tothe map onthe opposite wall. Lure the press away somehow. And weneed atleast double closure. Triple closure, the general insisted. If you please, sir, weshall organize apress conference immediately. About the rail accident weagreed on... Marco Drakuli was watching the two men confer and itoccurred tohim how good itwas tocontrol everything without stepping into the limelight. Hewas the one who suggested the idea ofthe train crash asacover story. Heknew the town like the back ofhis hand, and knew inadvance where the fortification should be, where the relocation should begin, where the relocation camps should beset up, where from and where toshall the buses betravelling, and which corps would beordered tocarry out the dirty work. Itwould beafew days. Afew days isall itwould take. For Drakulis men, the peacekeepers were the easiest toget out ofthe way. Ittook nomore than afew bimbos, drugs, booze, and parties, inexchange for which the soldiers looked the other way. The national army could have brought the weapons across the border ontheir backs ifthey wanted to, and the articulated trucks carrying drugs came and went asif they had been moving

bread ormilk. The peacekeepers thought that here they were virtually cut off from the world, and that anything that happened during the mission would fade into oblivion once the war was over. How wrong they were! Marco Drakulis arms reached far, even over Western European borders. Our prior information? the president inquired, although hehad already settled that his men had long before leaked the deceptive information about strategic objectives that served tocover the relocating operation. We had been anticipating aBosniak assault... the general recited the bogus intelligence. We need nocollaborators. Wehad toturn the town into afortress, aswe had toprepare for amajor battle. Quite apart from this, due toan accident that occurred 14miles from the town, military presence isall the more warranted. The government commissioner was amused bythis farce, starring the heroes. Responsibility isalways shouldered bythe dumb, the know-it-alls, the martyrs, orthe heroes. Drakuli knew that when the war was over, the heroes would become targets. Take over the operation. The officers should continue preparations, the president now turned tothe government commissioner, putting anend tothe discussion. Marco Drakuli nodded inacknowledgement. Itwas apleasant feeling tospeculate that with the position hehad, and the deniability the presidential order allowed, hecould wield authority that might beimmensely profitable once the war was over. Hedidnt simply want tosurvive, hewanted the best possible life. Drakuli understood the possibilities inherent inwar hehad become atrue businessman! War does not only serve the weapons trade, the booming art business fueled bylooting, human trafficking, and the development ofmedicine. Inthe long run, itcan cement real estate- and land speculation all ittakes issome ethnic cleansing inthe right place atthe right time. President Gojkovi left, Drakuli and the general stayed inthe control room. Field officers from the operative department were continuously reporting toVukovi. The commissioner had nothing todo but make sure that unexpected developments were handled appropriately, and that everything happened the way itwas ought to. The first unit has hermetically sealed the town inaradius offive miles. Wehave nine checkpoints. Who have been stopped? There are altogether twelve individuals waiting topass. Let them through towards the town. The woods have been scoured, the field officer went on. Nobody has been found. Itis still early inthe morning. Following the radio traffic, Drakuli circled the town onthe map with ared marker along the second and third closure rings. They worked fast, lets hope there were noblunders, hesaid absently The

general turned towards him indignantly. My men know that they are not allowed tomake mistakes! Drakuli could sense ruthlessness inthe tone ofhis voice. Heknew that strict punishment was handed out toanyone not complying with orders perfectly. Hedid not care much for Vukovi, but hewas not shocked either. Heneeded leaders like this, who did not treat his men with kid gloves. And the population? heasked, with acertain edge. Completely unaware. Life isgoing onas usual. Soon there will benothing here, but... Drakuli muttered, but hedid not finish the sentence. Hecolored the town onthe map, now confined inside the centermost, red bullseye, white with correction fluid, asmeticulously asif his sole concern inlife was not going over the lines inacoloring book. There now was ahideous white stain where the town used tobe, with red edges spilling outward. Like anegative image ofagunshot wound. Asif nothingness itself were bleeding!