Max felt better. “That sounds right up my street, guv.”
Chapter 16
“Mornin’ ma’am,” Dickie chortled as he entered the Major Crimes wing, carrying three cups of hot liquids.
Sandy waved to him to take a seat as she continued her phone call.
“That’s correct. Not a suspect, just a person of interest. Thank you, Sergeant.”
She turned to Dickie, “That’s our APW on Baywater. Both identities.”
“We need a different expression,” he said sarcastically. “All Points Warning doesn’t cover it.”
“APW. All Points Watch?” she suggested.
“Could work. Australia uses KALOF. Keep A Look Out For.”
“I like it. You’ll take this up with Admin when you take a desk job there?” she asked. “What did you bring me?”
“I didn’t know if you are a coffee or tea person in the morning?”
“Coffee, thanks. Cream and sugar?”
“I went black.”
“I’ll find some additives,” Sandy said as she walked around the corner.
“Any new ideas of our next step?” she asked over her shoulder.
“I like a re-visit to our favorite pawnbroker. I also can look up some CIs to see if they heard anything on the street about what went down.”
“What about the electrician, the person who shut down part of the power grid? We could look for past MOs on something like that.”
“Let’s divide that up. I’ll take the street work, you can dig through records.”
“No way, partner, we work it all together. Let’s go see Mr. Best.”
-----
“I noticed you are using your UK passport on this trip,” Chad said to Harry as they drove through the border check between Macedonia and Kosovo.
“Yes. It raises less questions to be a Brit in Kosovo, than to be a Serb.”
“Are you in danger here?”
Harry was quick to answer. “No, I don’t think so. However, when we meet with Dr. Siliki, see if you can find an opportunity to ask him about the situation here for Serbs and the situation for Albanians or Kosovars or Bosnian Muslims in Serbia. He might have a different perspective.”
“I see,” Chad said. “Do you know Dr. Siliki?”
“No, I don’t. Only by reputation. I think as a Muslim, he can give you a different perspective than you have heard so far.”
Chad changed the subject. “It’s beautiful in these mountains.”
The road into Kosovo led over the Sharr Mountains. June was a time of vivid greens on rocky hillsides that led to barren peaks. The road wound into valleys of fertile green fields and farms with mid-season growth of barley and sunflowers.
The rural area eventually became more populated. Signs told them they were within Prishtina’s city limits, yet it was still populated by as many animals as humans. The farms were small, just large enough to support a few families. Finally, the city. A mix of one-story and multi-story buildings and a scattering of high-rises. Chad commented on the newness of many and the touch of modern architecture. Late morning in downtown Prishtina was busy, with more pedestrians than the cars. It reminded Chad of Boston, except that in Boston, he admitted, the vehicles equaled the number of walkers.
They parked around the corner from the café, where they were to meet Dr. Siliki.
Harry spotted the archeologist from his picture. Siliki sat at a small table outside, in front of the café. His gaze was in front of him, enjoying the view of the Sharr Mountains to the south.
“Mjek Siliki?” Harry asked, in Albanian.
“Po,” Siliki said standing up and extending his hand.
Harry was able to introduce himself, his Albanian just basic.
“You speak English and Serbian, yes?” Dr. Siliki asked him in Albanian.
“How about English, so we can include Dr. Archer?” Harry asked.
“I think we will manage that,” Siliki smiled broadly. “He turned to Chad. “Dr. Archer, it is my pleasure to meet you.”
“Thank you, but the pleasure and gratitude is mine , Dr. Siliki. Particularly with the short notice we gave you. Please, call me Chad.”
“I will, Chad. Call me Valmir. And, Harry?”
“Yes. That will be great,” Harry responded.
Valmir signaled the waiter. He turned to Chad and Harry, “Coffee?”
They nodded. “Kosovar coffee,” Valmir smiled again giving the order to the server.
“Is Kosovar coffee something different?” Chad asked.
“Kosovar coffee is about the experience, Chad. It is to be enjoyed not just for the strong flavor or the gritty dregs at the bottom of the cup. It is a lubricant for laughter between friends and an absorbent of the life and vibrancy of the café, the streets, and the city.”
“I look forward to this,” Chad said.
“We sometimes take hours to enjoy our coffee,” Valmir suggested.
“We planned to return this evening, if that works for you,” Harry said with a note of worry.
“Certainly. The battlefield is only five kilometers from here. Maybe a fifteen-minute drive.”
The coffees came, and the café supplied a small plate of sweets. Chad pestered his host with questions about life in Kosovo. He found out that Valmir lived in Prishtina with his wife of fifteen years and with his two daughters, five and seven years old.
Chad asked, “Valmir, I was asked to take up this quest because Dr. Clark was dead, but he was the one that you asked for?”
“Yes. I am sorry to hear about Dr. Clark. A month ago, I was asked to do this quest. I quickly determined I could not do what was needed in the short time that we had. I had met Dr. Henry Clark twenty-five years ago at a lecture series in Cairo when I was studying for my doctorate. He impressed me with his skills of assembling facts from history, and from his digs, reaching accurate conclusions about events. I applied his methods in my work when I could. Last week I mentioned him to a colleague and to Minister Brajkovic. The next thing I knew you were here. Welcome. I hear you are as good as Dr. Clark.”
Chad answered. “I don’t think so. I learned from Doc, and now teach Forensic History, but his shoes are too big to fill.”
Harry and Valmir discussed this expression in Serbian and Albanian. They laughed.
“We disagree with you,” Harry said. “You have a reputation with Interpol and among historians. Information had been sent to both of us about you. In Serbian we have an expression ‘a splinter doesn’t jump far from a log.’”
“In Albanian, we say the pear falls exactly underneath the pear tree,” Valmir added.
“Sounds like I have a reputation to live up to,” Chad admitted with humility. “Valmir, will you let me join you on this quest?”
Chad noticed a brief look of worry in Valmir’s eyes.
“No, no. That is not necessary. It is all yours now, Chad,” Valmir said quickly.
Chad thought there was more to this, but he let it go.
“Tell us, please, what to expect at the battlefield,” Chad suggested.
“Almost nothing,” Valmir said.
Chapter 17
“I see what you mean,” Chad said as Valmir pointed.
There was a small sign that told visitors this was the Field of Blackbirds, the site of the Battle of Kosovo in 1389. The sign was at the edge of a well maintained property that contained a small dome shaped mausoleum, the Tomb of Sultan Murad.
“Murad, as you know, was the leader of the Ottoman army,” Valmir explained. “His internal organs are entombed here. His other remains are in Turkey. This site is always thought of as a special place for Christians, but it is just as important for those of my faith.”
“When was it built?” Harry asked.
Valmir answered, “It was built by his son and recently renovated. We don’t have an exact date, but Murad II died in 1402.”
“I am surprised the field is not walled off, or fenced.” Chad commented.
“Once the Ottomans came back
north and conquered this area it was under Muslim control so there was not the opportunity for Serbs or Christians to erect memorials or establish a church. The Ottomans sequentially conquered Serbia, Bosnia, and Croatia from 1450 to 1490. There are a few farms and homes scattered in this four by three kilometer area. However, it was not populated then, or now, because of what is buried here.”
“I wondered about that,” Chad said. “It was typical to bury the bodies near to where they fell?” He also did the mental math. The battlefield area was about two by two and a half miles in size.
“It was more convenient, certainly, not to move the bodies any distance.”
“How many died?” Harry asked.
“Many. You probably learned there were between twenty and twenty-five thousand Christian soldiers and thirty to forty thousand Ottomans. It was reported that both armies suffered severe losses. I saw one estimate that the Christians lost almost all of their six thousand cavalry and fourteen thousand infantry. That is eighty percent. The Ottoman losses were near twenty-five thousand.”
“Somewhere in this area there are forty-five thousand bodies?” Harry asked.
“Yes.”
Harry commented, “I can see why there would have been a reluctance to build your home or to farm near this field.”
Chad asked, “Have you excavated in this area?”
“I have. Several times. Small sections. I use it also to teach my classes.”
“You teach as well?” Chad asked.
“I do.”
“That’s great,” Chad replied in admiration. “What did you find in your digs?”
“The usual on the battlefield. Old weapons, old clothes. Bones. I also did a couple sections in the two areas behind the armies. Support wagons and trades like carpenters, iron workers, surgeons, and concubines would be close behind the armies.”
Chad asked, “What have you concluded about our quest?”
“If Lazar’s sword is here, it is… kashtë në mullar bari?”
Harry answered in Serbian, “Igla u plastu sena.”
“Oh,” Valmir said, “Gjilpërë. Why would there be a needle?”
Chad looked questioningly at the two of them.
Harry explained. “Valmir said it would be like looking for a straw in a haystack. I explained the expression was a needle in a haystack. He asks why there was a needle in a haystack.”
Chad jumped in. “I know the origin of this. Needles were made of bones, until Roman times. Then they began to make them from metal. Metal needles were valuable. Therefore, if a needle were lost, one would want to find it. It would be hard to find it in a haystack.”
“I can understand that,” Valmir said. “But why would someone sew or knit near a haystack?”
“You have me there,” Chad laughed. “I see your point about finding Lazar’s sword here. What about the clasp or buckle for his royal robes?”
“I thought perhaps there might be a support wagon or assemblage behind the lines, but I quickly concluded it would be… another needle.”
“Makes sense,” Chad acknowledged.
“So I went to Niš.”
“Niš?” Chad asked. “Where is that?”
Harry explained. “Niš is a large city in Serbia. The third largest. Over a quarter million people in the metropolitan area.”
Valmir added, “It is on the far side of the Southern Moravian River. Lazar stopped there to gather his forces. It was a sizable city. There were several churches and monasteries at the time. The Ottomans destroyed most of them over the next two centuries. However, it would be a logical place to leave valuables before battle.”
“No luck though?” Chad asked.
“No.”
“There are not many Albanians or Muslims in that area. Did you encounter problems?” Harry asked.
“The papers from the Minister opened doors to me. It was no more dangerous there than here.”
Chad detected the worry in Valmir’s eyes again. But, Valmir quickly asked, “What would you like to see here, Chad?”
“First I’d like to visit the Tomb of Murad. And, I’d like to see how the forces were aligned on the battlefield and maybe a couple of your dig sites. We were shown a drawing of the battle lines, but it will look different in person. Wish that we could fly over the battlefield at a low level.”
Valmir eyes lit up. “We can. We shall.”
Twenty minutes later Valmir had set up a drone and a viewing screen.
Chad was excited. “I have read about the use of drones at large excavation sites. I’ve not seen one.”
“This is courtesy of the Minister, from his private funds. He made a point of that. I should as well. I don’t know what this cost, but it’s not your average or even above average drone. Most civilian drones have a limited range of a few miles and a limited airborne time. This one is similar in specs to the one Amazon is evaluating. It can stay up for two hours and has a fifteen-mile range. I brought it here yesterday and took some pictures. Then I superimposed the Battle of Kosovo forces and alignment onto the pictures. I like the result, though it’s rough at the moment. Let me show you.”
Valmir booted his laptop and walked them through a power point.
“Fantastic,” Chad said. “You may think it needs polishing, but even as it is, it is so much better to visualize and understand the rivers, the elevation, and distances. Thanks.”
“Let’s fly this thing,” Harry prompted.
They spent the next hour flying the drone over the field, focusing on specific places that Chad identified. He followed the calculated location of Lazar as he attacked and was counter-attacked.
“Valmir, from what I read, it was not clear if Lazar died fighting or was captured and then beheaded. What is true versus what is in the epic poems? Do you know?”
“I don’t. It is all speculation.”
Chad proffered, “I don’t envision a surrender, knowing the casualties. Perhaps he was incapacitated in the battle, and then captured. But in either case the Ottomans would have prized his sword. If he died and one of his own army picked it up, the surviving soldiers would have made a point of it as he was canonized a few years later. Since neither of those happened, I think that perhaps he died fighting and someone close to him secured the sword. Someone who had no reason to build upon or destroy the legend of Lazar.”
“I follow your logic, but I don’t know who that would be.”
Chad explained, repeating what he had learned from Sonja. “The Knights Hospitaller, fighting for Croatia under John of Palisna. The Knights were Roman Catholic, and though they had a common enemy in the Ottomans, there was still animosity with the Orthodox Church. Any evidence where they were during the battle?”
Valmir brightened. “Chad, I have something to show you.”
Chapter 18
“What the bloody hell happened here?” Dickie asked as he and Sandy pulled up in front of Best Pawnshop.
They saw one detective car, one marked unit, and yellow police tape draped across the door to the pawnshop.
“Robbery?” Sandy asked.
“Hope for the best, expect the worst,” Dickie replied.
“What’s the worst?” Sandy asked.
“We just lost a witness and a source.”
They hurried across the street and flashed their IDs to the uniform at the door.
The uniform called into the shop. “Sergeant? Okay to let others in?”
A Detective Sergeant walked toward the door.
“Sure. We’re wrapped up here. You can take down the tape.”
The DS recognized Dickie. “Dickie. Didn’t know this was kicked to Major Crimes?”
“Maybe it has. Don’t know. We were coming to see Best. What’s up?” He looked around at broken display cases and missing items, the expensive ones. “Robbery?” he asked the west London station DS .
“Looks like it,” the DS said waving his arm to include the damaged store. “This and the safe in the office. It’s empty.”
“Can
we walk around?” Sandy asked. “I’m Inspector Sandy Moffatt.”
“Sergeant Atwood. Go ahead. Everything has been printed. They’re finishing up an inventory of what was stolen. But, Best isn’t here.”
“Where is he?” Dickie asked.
“The hospital. He’s in bad shape.”
-----
Valmir Siliki flipped through the files on his laptop, which sat on the hood of his car.
“Look at this,” Siliki instructed. “I collected these on one of my battlefield digs.”
Chad and Harry looked at several photos of metal artifacts. Spear points, arrowheads, and small plates.
“That’s the Maltese Cross.” Harry pointed at a round flat metal plate that could have been a buckle.
The images of four black arrows, just the heads, pointed to a central point from all four directions.
Harry explained. “Each arrow has two points that face outward. The eight points represent the eight pledges of the knights. Like ‘to live in truth’ and ‘to be merciful,’ to mention two of them.”
Chad looked with renewed respect at his short spectacled companion. His features were not extreme Baltic. His skin was not fair, but not dark. Harry’s roundish face was in contrast to a chiseled chin and forehead. His light brown hair was not what Chad expected. Certainly, it was attributable to his mixed heritage, but Chad had seen that similar mix in many people in Belgrade and Prishtina. And, he recalled, Sonja was blonde. There didn’t seem to be a typical Serbian look.
Harry definitely was intelligent, Chad thought. Not only evidenced by his depth and range of knowledge, but also displayed by his thoughtful analysis.
“Where did you find these?” Chad asked.
“I will show you,” Valmir said. He tinkered with controls on his laptop, linking a screen to the drone’s position. Then he powered up the drone and sent it flying over the battlefield. He switched screens to show what the drone camera showed. He moved it up in elevation and adjusted the camera lens to wide angle. They could see the rivers, streams, bushes, and trees.
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