Alina's Revenge Page 3

  ~~~

  Valjevo was nothing like Sarajevo. This town was more rustic, rural and quaint, the architecture was not as modern. Instead, the buildings were of an older, classic Ottoman design—older but still clean. From the hillside overlooking the city, Alina thought it all very picturesque. A mountain stream ran through the city. Its grand statues and ancient churches lent an air of a slow-moving lifestyle.

  Alina immediately set out finding the military base, but after hours of driving in circles, she found nothing that resembled a compound. She eventually stopped and to ask a pedestrian and asked her about it. Fortunately, the Bosnian and Serb languages were virtually identical.

  The woman was very helpful and told her where to find the garrison. She then added with a sense of pride that Ratko Mladic once hid in the mountains nearby.

  “Who is Mladic?” Alina said.

  “Who is Mladic?” The woman’s eyes widened. “The Butcher of Bosnia, that’s who he is. Killed hundreds, if not thousands during the war, including the Srebrenica massacre. His army marched into Bosnia and killed and raped many women.”

  “Yes,” Alina said quietly, her eyes turned down. “I heard about that.”

  “But it’s all right now. We kicked him out in 2002. Not many of his men are left.”

  She looked up. “That’s a year ago. Do you think some are still here?”

  The woman nodded. “You won’t notice theirs because they blend in with the rest of the housing in that area. The government set up apartments for them near the edge of town. If you know what you’re looking for, you can’t miss them. They’re painted yellow and brown.”

  “Thank you,” Alina said, and drove in the indicated direction.

  She soon found the apartment barracks right where the woman said they would be. Hiding in plain sight were five separate two-story buildings, each painted alike in yellow and brown.

  She looked around for a place to stake out the complex. Constant surveillance was the only way she knew to find the men who raped her—if they were still there. Deciding on a spot in the woods nearby, she settled down to wait.

  Day and night, she kept watch. At about 2:00 AM, she wrapped a sweater around her neck and tried to get some sleep but was up at sunrise to search each face as the men went to work.

  After three days, she gave up. She did not recognize any of the men she had seen. Most of the men were too young.

  Dejected, tired, and hungry, she headed for a nearby tavern. She ordered a beer and sat down in solitude. Alina was not one to cry, but right then she was closer to tears than she had been in a long time. This failure had doomed her mission from the start. She did not know where else to look.

  Just then, a man with only one arm walked into the tavern. Alina became suspicious. His beard was shorter, his hair more gray. She stared as he sat down at the table next to her. She recognized him. It must be the one her father hit with the scythe. If so, he was not one of the rapists—but he had been one who killed her family.

  He caught her staring and said, “May I help you?”

  Alina looked at him, unrelenting. “How did you lose that arm?”

  “Lost it in the war. Someone hit me with a sword when I wasn’t looking, but it doesn’t matter now. That guy’s dead. He got what he deserved.”

  “And how is that?” she shot back testily.

  His head snapped up from taking a sip of his beer. “I said he chopped my arm off! Isn’t that enough reason? If it had been you, wouldn’t you have done the same thing?”

  “It depends. Was he defending his family at the time?”

  The man stared at her with hard, truculent eyes. Finally, he said, “Do I know you?”

  Alina shook her head. “Obviously not, but you look familiar. What’s your name?”

  “I don’t want to give you my name.”

  “What’s the harm in a name? Maybe it will jog my memory.”

  He gave her another hard look, took a big gulp of his beer and left without answering.

  Alina waited until he was out the door before following. She tailed him to the apartments, quietly hiding in the shadows to find out in which one he lived.

  Number 604—building six.

  “No wonder I missed you,” she said aloud. “I didn’t know there was another apartment back here.”

  She went to her pickup, trying to maintain a close watch on the room, and retrieved the knife she had taken from Egzon. She then walked up the second-floor steps and knocked on the door.

  The man appeared wearing a dirty pair of boxer shorts and a sweat-stained T-shirt. “It’s you again. What do you want?”

  Without a word, Alina powered through the door, knocking him back. She quickly closed it and turned on him, moving so fast he did not have time to recover before he was on the floor, the knife already at his throat.

  “What is your name?” Alina demanded.

  “Mirko. Mirko Halilovic. Why? What’s it to you?”

  “I know how you lost that arm, Halilovic. You lost it in the war, but you lost it when you attacked a family farm in northern Bosnia. Brčko, to be exact. Isn’t that right?”

  “Who are you?” he demanded.

  “I’m the girl your men raped.”

  He shook his head. “That’s impossible. That girl is dead. The captain slit her wide open.”

  Alina raised her shirt to show him the scar.

  Mirko’s eyes went wide.

  “Now I want names,” she said. “Who were the other men with you that day?”

  “I’m not going to tell you anything!”

  She pressed the knife harder against his throat. A thin line of blood appeared.

  “Yes, I think you will.”

  He clubbed her with his left hand, hitting her square aside her head. Alina reeled from the unexpected attack. She had been so focused, so intent on him that she forgot to protect herself. She fell to one side. The room swirled. She saw him rise and come at her, a malicious smile spreading across his face.

  “I didn’t get my turn with you ten years ago. Now, I will.”

  He grabbed her by the hair and pulled Alina to her feet, slamming her back against the wall. He held her with the stub of his right arm as he felt her.

  “You men may have had your way with a little girl, but not me!” she said.

  Alina reversed the blade and sliced up his left leg. The skin flayed wide open.

  Mirko screeched, going down to one knee. He held his injured leg extended, grabbing it with his one hand.

  “You, you cut me!”

  She kicked him onto his back and dropped on top of him, the knife once more to his neck. “I’ll do more than that if you don’t start talking. Tell me what I want to know or you’re dead.”

  “Edib!” he shouted. “Edib Gamic. He was there.”

  “Who else? Who are the others?”

  “Please, I need help. I think you hit an artery!”

  “I didn’t hit the artery or you’d be dead by now.” Her voice remained calm. “Now start talking. Give me those names and where I can find them.”

  “Edib left the army. He moved to Leskovac nine years ago.”

  “Okay, who else?

  “Naser was there, too.”

  “Last names, Halilovic. Give me last names.”

  “Del…Delic,” he gasped, wincing in pain. “And there was Javor Sokolovic. And Ivo Oric. That’s…that’s all.”

  “That’s only four men. You’re a few short.”

  “I’m telling you the truth! I don’t know about the others, just Edib, Naser, Javor, and Ivo.”

  Alina nodded. If he was lying, she could still find out from the other men. “Now where can I find them?”

  “Edib opened a butcher’s shop in Leskovac. Delic and Sokolovic joined up with some mercenaries. They’re in Iraq now, fighting the war down there.”

  “Is that all you know?”

  “Yes...” He groaned, holding his leg. “Yes, that’s it. It’s all I know. Now please, get me some help.”
<
br />   “The captain. Who was the captain?”

  Mirko hesitated. Alina pressed the knife harder. “Tell me who the captain was!”

  “I can’t. I can’t. He’ll kill me.”

  “Look at where you are now, Mirko. If you don’t tell me what I want to know, you’re going to die. Just give me one more name, then we’ll see about getting you a doctor.”

  “Okay! Okay. His name is Itsakovic. First name is Josuf. The Hague was after him for what he did to your family, so he escaped to Istanbul. Now that’s it. It’s all I know, I swear.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “You’ve been a big help.” She pressed the knife harder. “Now it’s time you die.”

  “But, but you said—”

  With a simple flick of the knife tip, she cut his jugular. Blood gushed through the open artery, but Alina barely noticed. She wiped the blade clean and walked outside, closing the door behind her.

  Chapter 4

  The next morning, Alina drove to Leskovac, a hours south. It was a moderately large city set in a broad, sprawling valley. Like most towns in the area, it also had a mixture of modern businesses, old Ottoman churches, and large hotels, but what set it apart were the rows of red barrel roofs that followed the winding river, giving the city the appearance of a Mediterranean town.

  Alina quickly went to work tracking down Edib Gamic. She parked her truck at the nearest telephone booth and opened up the phone book. She frowned. There were three listings for that name and no addresses.

  Next, she scanned for butcher shops. She skipped over the ones buried in a market store and focused on the independent ones. There were five of them, complete with addresses. She wanted to stay out of sight as much as possible, so it would be better to find Edib at work rather than calling on him at home. She ripped out the page containing the locations of the shops and set out looking for the first one on the list.

  She found the first butcher shop, but by the time she reached the store, they had closed for the day. She settled on finding a place for the night and getting some sleep. Between staying awake half the week in Valjevo and driving all day, she was beat.

  Alina checked into a cheap hotel and dumped her duffle onto the bed. Beside her, a small kitchen area lined the front wall to her right.

  She flopped on the creaky bed and went through the events of that evening. One of the men who killed her family was dead, so why didn’t she feel happy? She rolled over and shook her head. Mirko deserved what he got. She rolled the other way. He might not have raped her, but he had killed her brothers. That was reason enough for what she did.

  Alina tossed on her other side. The image of his blood spilling down his neck ran through her mind. She rolled the other way and covered her face with a pillow. Even then, she saw Egzon lying on the ground, blood staining the back of his shirt where she had stabbed him with the stick. She thought about how she had also stolen his money afterward. But he was a Serb. He deserved what he got. Still, reality overcame her. Up to this point, it had been padded poles and targets. She had never killed before and the feeling was not what she expected.

  Unable to take her thoughts anymore, she got up, stomping her foot with a grunt, mad at herself for feeling weak. She stormed out of the room, hoping a walk in the night air might do her good.

  She went down the switchback stairs to the small lobby. In the right corner was a bar lounge with no patrons. To her left, the front desk. In front of her, a man approached. He was of medium height and black hair with dark brown eyes. His neatly pressed button-down shirt matched his creased trousers.

  Alina took the last stair step to the lobby. She shook her head and said to him. “I don’t want any.”

  “Any what?” the man said.

  “Whatever you’re selling. I don’t want it. Just get away from me.”

  “But I haven’t said anything.”

  “You don’t have to. I seem to attract a lot of men like you.”

  “Well, you are pretty. Maybe that has something to do with it. My name’s Goran, by the way.”

  Alina stopped and said, “Goran what?”

  “Just Goran for now. That okay with you?”

  “Sure, whatever you say. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off for a walk. I can’t seem to sleep tonight.”

  “Maybe I can walk with you,” he said.

  “Uh-uh.” Alina shook her head, more cautious now. “I need to be alone.” She turned to walk away.

  Goran pulled a badge out of his pocket showing he was with the local police department. “Like I said, maybe I can walk with you. I’ve got a few questions you might be able to answer.”

  Alina stopped when she saw the badge. She snapped around and looked at him again. After a brief moment, she said, “All right.”

  He opened the door for her. Alina nodded and took the other door. The street was quiet. A few cars rolled by at the end of the block. The cool air flowing from the mountains made the night bearable.

  “What do you want to know?” Alina said.

  “How about your name to start.”

  “Alina.”

  “Alina what?”

  “Just Alina for now, is that okay with you?” She smiled.

  Goran grinned. “Yes, I guess fair’s fair. How about having a drink with me?”

  She looked at him. “A drink? Is that what that badge gets you, a drink with a woman?”

  “It usually works. I know a nice place that’s out of the way. Get in my car and I’ll take you.”

  Alina backed away, suddenly wary. She shook her head. “I don’t think so. There are many other places nearby to get a drink.”

  “But this place—”

  “I said no, and that’s final!” she snapped. “If that’s not good enough for you, then we can say good-bye right now.”

  His lips pressed tight. “Alright. Then you pick the place.”

  “Let’s go back inside. There’s a lounge in there. It isn’t much, but it will do.”

  “You don’t trust me,” he said. “Is that it? You just don’t trust me.”

  “Believe me, I have plenty of reasons not to.”

  “Even with the badge?”

  “Especially with that badge.” Alina stopped. Did she say the wrong thing? She hurried to add, “I didn’t mean that, Goran.” She looked up at the stars and groaned, “Oh, just come back inside.”

  They reentered the hotel and sat at a table in the lonely lounge. After getting their drinks, Alina said, “Now do you want to talk to me as a policeman or just Goran?”

  “Both,” Goran said as he smiled. He had handsome teeth that brightened his face.

  “What would the police want with me? I just got in town today. I haven’t done anything.”

  “I saw you driving around town. What were you doing?”

  “You know, taking in the sights. Were you following me? Is that how you found me tonight?”

  “Where were you yesterday?” he said, eluding her questions.

  This is it then, Alina thought. He’s onto me. “I was in Porodin. Why?”

  “Are you sure?”

  She gave him a withering glare. “Of course I’m sure. What kind of a question is that? I’m just touring the country. I’ve never been in Serbia before.”

  “Porodin, huh? Well, you must have seen the hanging gardens. How did you like them?”

  Alina took a short breath. She had a fifty-fifty chance of getting this right. “Gardens? What gardens? All I saw was a nice river, some statues, and bunch of old houses.” It was a safe bet. That description fit most of the cities in the area.

  He nodded and wrote something in a notebook that had appeared from his shirt pocket. “Where are you from?”

  “Bosnia.”

  He nodded. “Yes, I thought I recognized your accent. Where in Bosnia?”

  “Brčko. It’s a small village in the north.”

  He wrote some more and said without looking up, “Yes, I’ve heard of the place. A family was murdered there during in the war.”
r />   “There was?”

  He looked at her. “Yes. I’m surprised you haven’t heard about it. Made the news. I learned of it in school. There was a large public outcry over the atrocities of the war and that instance was one of the examples.”

  “Well, I was home schooled. My father didn’t get around to that part of history I guess.”

  “And your mother?”

  “What about her?”

  “Is she still alive?”

  Alina leaned across the table, bristling. “Listen, Goran. Where is all this leading?”

  He leaned back in his chair, arms spread wide with that big, bright smile. “I’m just trying to get to know you, that’s all. When I saw you drive by today, I thought hey, it’s worth a shot.”

  “Yeah? Well do you normally talk to a woman while writing in that notebook?”

  He shook his head and smiled again. He put the book back in his pocket.

  “And how did you come to pick me out of the line up?” she asked. “With all the women in this town, why me?”

  Goran didn’t answer right away, and when he did he changed the subject. “I’ve been here most of my life. I joined the police force when I was twenty. Started out on the night beat as most cops do. It was awful.”

  “Uh-huh.” Alina remained aloof.

  “Rose through the ranks pretty fast, though. I’m hard-working and diligent. I pay attention to details. Made captain in five years because of that. Most guys go ten years and before they make it—if they make it at all.”

  “Five years. That’s impressive.”

  “What do you know about a murder in Valjevo last night?”

  The sudden change in direction caught her off guard, which she suspected all the senseless chitchat was intended to do. She almost fell for it.

  “Where?”

  “Valjevo. Were you there?”

  “Of course not. Like I said, I was in Porodin. Why?”

  Goran leaned forward. “A man was murdered there,” he said. “Man by the name of Mirko Halilovic. Ever heard of him?”

  Alina paused as if deep in thought before shaking her head. “No, can’t say that I have. What does this have to do with me?”

  “An eyewitness says she saw a woman get into a white pickup truck about the same time of death as the victim. Says she had short blonde hair, just like you.”