Then he knew what he had done all those years ago was going to pay off.
Pavlic had always tempered actions with extreme caution. His profession nurtured the characteristic with a high degree of enthusiasm. Financial dedication engineered total observation of foresight. Noticing pitfalls meant avoiding them. Making provisions for possible hazards encouraged all forms of insurance against those hazards.
When the consortium’s scheme had been close to fruition and they were all committed, Lec Pavlic, ever diligent, had considered his options.
His friend, a struggling businessman who ran a video filming company, possessed the qualities Pavlic needed. Hac Tivik had no morals and even better he would do anything for money. Over a meal and several bottles of wine, Tivik listened to Pavlic’s proposal. He professed some shock when Pavlic told him what the group had planned, but his outrage faded when Pavlic named the price he was willing to pay to have the incident recorded, with the promise of more at monthly intervals.
Even so, as time went by and people began to die, concern over his own mortality had caused sleepless nights and Pavlic began to walk carefully when he was in the presence of the group. He allowed his concerns to guide him. He watched and listened, and it was soon obvious that a small cadre of people had quietly formed. People who outwardly still operated for the group, but who were, in truth, steadily building their own power base. Digging a little deeper, he realized that they were well-connected with the Americans who had been part of the original group that had planned and carried out the executions.
Still without solid proof, Pavlic knew that these powerful figures were manipulating the operations in order to further build their own power and riches. It was as simple as that. He began to suspect that his own position was at risk because his work meant he had access to and even control over the financial operations of the whole consortium. He was able at the touch of a computer button to move around vast sums of money. He knew where all the accounts were—the secret deposits, the offshore and Swiss accounts. It was a great deal of responsibility to be in the hands of one man, and though he had been a party to the slaughter on that fateful day—he was just as guilty—he realized it would mean little to the egomaniacs who were gathering themselves for total control.
As part of his survival plan, he started to siphon off money for himself. It was relatively easy. Pavlic routed the amounts back and forth between accounts, paying off contracts, using various sources to launder the cash, then placed it in numerous systems. He set up a number of dummy accounts, retaining passwords and numbers, and over a period of three months acquired substantial holdings he would be able to access from anywhere in the world. He felt safe because he still had an ace in the hole. The videotape that would implicate the whole of the consortium. As long as he retained that, he knew there was no danger of his being compromised and any threat was minimized.
Pavlic decided to consolidate his safety net. He met with Tivik and told his friend of his concerns. Tivik panicked. He looked on the news as if it was a death sentence about to be carried out immediately.
“We are dead,” he said. “Lec, we’re finished.”
“Only if we do what you’re doing right now. We’ve survived all this time. If we stay calm, we can come out of this fine,” Pavlic said.
“Easy to say.” Tivik reached for the bottle of wine on the café table and filled his glass. His hand trembled when he raised the glass.
“Listen to me,” Pavlic said. “We have something none of them know about. The video evidence. That’s our insurance. As long as we have that, they won’t do anything.”
Tivik drained his glass, wiping his hand across his mouth.
“There’s something you haven’t thought about, Lec. You have the evidence, yes, but they don’t know about it. And if they don’t know about it, how can it be a threat to them?”
Pavlic smiled.
“I’ve considered that myself. I plan to send them a sample. Enough to make them realize it exists, and any further accidents will result in the full tape being forwarded to interested authorities. That should make them think. Because they won’t know who sent it.” Pavlic raised his own glass. “We sow the seeds of confusion among our enemies.”
It was a thought that would remain just that. Things were about to occur that would banish that notion from Pavlic’s mind as he found himself struggling against more important matters. Like preserving his own life.
In a parked car across the street a camera was lowered and the photographer picked up a cell phone, quickly tapping in a number.
“I think we need to meet. Pavlic has been having an interesting conversation with that friend of his. Yes, Tivik. I have it on camera. Perhaps I’m being overly cautious but something worries me about that pair. Tonight? Of course. Eight o’clock? I’ll be there.”
Sarajevo
THE MEETING TOOK PLACE IN the apartment they always used for clandestine business.
When Karel Medusku arrived he saw that the other men were already assembled.
Milos Radin was a heavyset man, his thick hair streaked with gray, his coarse features offset by the expensive clothing he wore. Medusku had always considered the man out of place in civilized company. Radin was a peasant who sometimes allowed his base nature to show. Not that anyone would ever make any mention of such errors. There was latent violence lurking close to the surface, and Radin had little problem using that brutal streak if someone offended him. He was in charge of handling government contracts with regard to civic and military construction.
Maric Jatko oversaw the group’s security. It was a vague description for a violent man who would crush someone underfoot if need be. He was a man with few morals and no hesitation when it came to dealing with any threat to the group.
Sev Malik was the negotiator. He had gained a great deal since the massacre and the subsequent political advancement.
As soon as they were all settled, Radin turned to Jatko.
“We all know why we are here. Jatko has raised concerns over Pavlic that require addressing.”
Jatko handed out copies of the photographs he had taken of Pavlic’s meeting with Tivik.
“This isn’t the first meeting they’ve had. But the significance is that prior to these recent get-togethers they hadn’t seen each other for a long time.”
“I understand your concern, Maric, but are these meetings significant? Should it worry us?” Medusku asked.
“Pavlic only contacted Tivik after Ritka had his accident. And there is more,” Jatko said. “We all know Pavlic has been unhappy because he has missed promotions.”
“That’s because there was nothing to promote him for,” Radin said. “The man is just a money mover. He diverts and places our cash. And please don’t tell me it is a skilled profession. In the end Pavlic is a bank clerk.”
“A very accomplished bank clerk,” Jatko said. “Clever enough to skim off some of our money and divert it to a number of secure accounts.”
Radin’s face darkened with rage. “When did this happen? More importantly how did it happen?”
“Over the past few months. I have had my own people running random checks on our computer systems. One of them came across some embedded files hidden in program codes. It was pure luck he spotted them. He did some careful investigation and traced them back to Pavlic,” Jatko replied.
“Damn him. It seems we were right not to promote him.”
Medusku cleared his throat, taking a sip of water from the glass on the table in front of him. “What kind of money are we talking about?”
“Our initial check itemized over three million U.S. Pavlic is converting everything he takes to U.S. currency.”
“How could he do that without us knowing?” Medusku asked.
Jatko smiled at the ignorance of the question.
“Pavlic deals with vast amounts every day. With all we have going on money is flowing in and out all the time. The accounts are never at the same levels one day to the next. Unless you run
a full, detailed accounting, there is little chance of noticing money has been taken out of the system.”
“That little prick is stealing our money.” Radin banged his large fist on the table. “I want him skinned alive for this.”
“Are you forgetting something?” Malik finally spoke. “Pavlic was with us. He knows everyone who was there that day. He knows where the bodies are buried.”
“So?” Radin said. “Once he’s dead that knowledge is buried with him.”
“Perhaps not,” Jatko said. “I did some back checking on Tivik. We accessed his bank account. He has been receiving large monthly cash deposits from Pavlic. Those payments started immediately after the killings. For over ten years now Pavlic has been paying his friend.”
“Why?” Medusku asked.
“My guess? Tivik provided a service for Pavlic in 1995.” Jatko gazed across the table at Radin. “Do you know what Tivik does for a living?”
“I know nothing about this man. Why should I?” Radin was showing signs of mounting impatience. “Tell us, Maric. Who is this man?”
“Tivik is a professional cameraman.” Jatko did not embellish his statement. He allowed the fact to work its own significance on the group.
Radin held his gaze, almost willing Jatko to deny what he had just suggested. But the gradual realization dawning in his eyes told Jatko he had understood the unspoken possibility. “They filmed it? Pavlic has it on tape?”
“Logic suggests that could have been the outcome of such a collaboration.”
Radin spoke very quietly.
There was a collective sigh as each man in the group considered the implications.
“If this turns out to be true and the contents of such a document were exposed—” Malik said.
Radin held up a big hand. “Before we all commit ritual suicide, let us consider the options. First we have to establish whether this is true. If not, we simply have to deal with Lec Pavlic for stealing our money. If what Maric has suggested is true, then we still have to deal with Pavlic, but from another angle. Our main objective will be to gain possession of this video evidence. Destroy that and we neutralize Pavlic’s threat of exposure.”
“And what do we do if this theoretical video has been copied and placed in unknown locations? Or with trusted friends?” Malik asked.
“Sev, I never realized you had such a vivid imagination.” Radin turned his attention back to Jatko. “I don’t have to tell you what needs doing. Drop everything else and concentrate on Pavlic and this man, Tivik. I want to know if your theory is sound. If it isn’t, no harm done. I’m starting to believe you may have stumbled onto a truth hidden from us for too long. Find out. Maric, I don’t care what you need to do to get your answers. But maintain a low cover.”
Jatko nodded, pushed his chair back and left the room.
“You realize what this means if Maric is correct?” Medusku said. He had gone pale, sweat glistening on his face. “What they will do to us?”
Radin smiled. “I know exactly what will happen. Let’s hope Maric is wrong. If he isn’t, that’s the time to start worrying. As long as Pavlic isn’t scared into doing anything, we have the time to protect ourselves.”
“There is no point wasting more time here.” Malik stood up. “I have an early appointment tomorrow. Just keep me informed.”
“I will,” Jatko said.
As Malik left, Radin picked up his coat and stood looking down at Medusku. The man had not moved.
“Lock up when you leave,” Radin said. “And don’t make too much of this. As I said, if we handle it efficiently nothing will change. Pavlic can be made to vanish easily if the need arises.”
“And if that does not happen?”
Radin shrugged. “You see only the black side of everything. Don’t bleed until you have been cut.”
By the time Radin reached his car the light had gone out in the third floor apartment. As he drove away, heading back toward the center of town, he tapped in a number on his cell phone.
“Twenty minutes. You know where,” he said when Jatko answered.
THE CHILL WIND DROVE FINE RAIN across the empty lot. Jatko eased his car alongside Radin’s and stepped out, turning up the collar of his thick coat. He leaned in the open window.
“Is everything all right?” Jatko asked.
“I’m worried about Medusku. I have a feeling he’s not going to be able to handle this well.”
“You think he might talk?”
“He might get panicky enough. But I’m more concerned that he might do something to himself if he broods for too long. Unfortunately, he has a conscience.”
“It could be awkward for us if he did do away with himself,” Jatko said.
“Exactly what I was thinking. If that did happen, we could find ourselves being asked embarrassing questions.”
“You want me to deal with him?”
“Let’s be careful about it. Monitor him first. See what he does. If his actions threaten us—”
Jatko nodded. “I understand. Milos, we could be looking at a difficult time.”
“Only if we allow it to control us.” Radin started his engine. “Work as normal in the morning. I’ll call Billingham in Miami. We may need to fly over and talk to him. I’ll see you then.”
“Drive carefully,” Jatko said and walked back to his own car.
LEC PAVLIC SAW MEDUSKU CROSSING the parking lot in his direction. There was something in the way the tall, lean figure moved that prompted Pavlic to adopt a defensive posture. He studied Medusku closely. The man looked as if he hadn’t slept. His usually thin face was gaunt, with dark circles under his eyes. When he came to a halt no more than a few feet from Pavlic, he stabbed the air with a bony finger.
“Is it true? What I heard last night?”
Although Pavlic couldn’t be sure what the man was talking about, he felt a chill run through him that had nothing to do with the cold weather. “I’m sorry, I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“Don’t treat me like an idiot.” Medusku leaned in close and Pavlic could smell the alcohol on his breath. “We know what you have been doing. Skimming money off the accounts into your own. Stealing from your comrades.”
“Go home, Karel, you’ve been drinking.”
“Does it surprise you? After what I learned last night?”
“Some nonsense about me taking money?” Pavlic found himself denying the accusation. What else could he do? He needed to get away from Medusku. To work out what he needed to do—and do it quickly.
Medusku tried to gain some dignity. He pulled himself upright, swaying a little. “It’s more than the money, you bastard.” His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “We know about the video—how you betrayed us even on that day.”
Before more words were exchanged a dark figure appeared, crossing the lot in determined strides. It was Jatko. He walked up to Medusku and caught hold of his arm.
“What’s going on here?” he demanded.
“Ask your drunken friend,” Pavlic said. “Making a damn fool of himself. He should go have a nap. I have to go. I’m going to be late for my appointment.”
Pavlic turned and climbed into his car. He drove off without a backward glance, leaving Jatko struggling with Medusku.
“And what was that all about?” Jatko asked, steering Medusku toward the office complex. “What the hell have you been saying?”
“Nothing of importance.”
“Really? Is that why Pavlic looked so scared? Have you forgotten what we decided last night? To deal with this quietly. Not call attention to ourselves by arguing in a fucking parking lot.”
“If we don’t do anything, Pavlic could expose us,” Medusku said.
“He might do that if drunken idiots start provoking him.” Jatko maneuvered Medusku into one of the elevators, and they rode to the top floor and Radin’s office suite.
Radin was on the phone. He glanced across at Jatko, then to the flushed and unsteady Medusku.
“Someth
ing has come up that requires my immediate attention. I will call you back.” He cut off the call and stood up. “What’s happened?”
PAVLIC DROVE DIRECTLY TO HIS apartment and called Tivik.
“Listen and don’t interrupt. They may have found out about the video. We could be in trouble. We have to get out before they decide to move against us. You know what to do?”
“Yes,” Tivik said.
Pavlic hung up. He went to his computer and accessed the accounts, using the passwords he controlled. He activated a program that wiped everything, including the data on the hard drive. He packed a bag, taking only a few items of clothing. Anything he might need later he could buy. Despite the situation he smiled. He didn’t need to worry about money. He had plenty—and the disk he had in his possession would bring him more if he needed it. And he still had access codes to the group’s bank accounts. He considered the possibility that once his disappearance became known the codes might be changed, shutting him out. It would be a nuisance but not the end of the world.
A half hour later he was in a taxi on his way to the airport. He sat back and watched the drab outline of the city slip behind him in the gloom. France first, then on to America. The U.S.A. was so large and diverse he would be able to lose himself easily.
The taxi turned into the airport. Pavlic glanced at his watch. Plenty of time before his flight. Once he was in the air he would be able to relax. In a few hours he would be in France, able to enjoy a good meal and a bottle of wine. From there he would book a flight to Washington.
He opened the slim case he was carrying. He had documentation related to his work and a slim laptop. He had enough identification to show he was a legitimate businessman going on a trip to the French capital. He had contacts in Paris, as he did in London and New York. In that respect he was legitimate.
In the attaché case, among other items, was a leather case holding CDs. They were data disks concerned with finance, business projections, details of share holdings. One was marked New Financial Year Estimates. If anyone opened the disk that was exactly what they would see. However, if they accessed an encrypted file they would see a copy of the video Tivik had filmed. Pavlic’s friend, poor businessman though he might be, was a gifted technician when it came to handling the techniques of his craft.
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