He clicked off again and focused on the commotion before him.
Rivin’s men in the dozens—geared for combat—swarmed around their vehicles.
Ammunition was being loaded into the technicals for their bed-mounted weapons, and cans of fuel poured into all.
Rivin exited the blockhouse also geared for action and wearing a red keffiyeh to match his men. He held an MPT-76 assault rifle and a two-way radio.
Jäger approached Rivin. “I have a worrisome problem.”
Rivin shrugged. “What man doesn’t?”
“Our friends on the other side of the border just informed me that a large Turkish Army mechanized unit is now bivouacked less than one kilometer from our crossing point.”
“I know,” Rivin said. “My scouts watched them arrive this morning. The Turks do that from time to time to show our friends their flag, flex their muscles, and let them know they could invade any time they wish.”
“Then how will we get the general’s sample across the border tonight?”
“You won’t. But the Turks never stay in that area for more than 48-hours. Just wait them out here.”
Jäger frowned. “Just wait them out here?”
“Yes. Or…you and Fuchs can go to the refugee camp and stay at my brothel. All beautiful, fresh teenage girls. Get drunk and lay with them…or lay with all of them. I will tell them you are my guests, and you will be well taken care of, I can assure you.”
Jäger frowned again. “I planned on being back in Munich by tomorrow night. I hate being away from my restaurant for more than a few hours, let alone a few days.”
“We all have our worrisome problems. Now, if you’ll excuse me, your worrisome problem is my great opportunity.”
“How so?” Jäger said.
“Our friends on the other side of the border will be preoccupied watching that Turkish mechanized unit. This means they won’t be watching another smaller crossing point 10-kilometers away. The smugglers know this too and will try and push as much through as they can tonight.” Rivin grinned. “And I will be waiting there to take all of it from them.”
CHAPTER 29
Molka peered out her room’s little barred window and counted 26 vehicles leaving “The Red Lion’s Den” in a single line: 17 SUVs and 9 technicals. Each one transported at least four men, which meant over 100 left the fortress.
Must be something big.
Two knocks sounded on the door. It unlocked and opened to Omar. He entered carrying a small folding table with a wooden tray atop it, holding a big, covered bowl, spoon, cloth napkin, and small teapot and drinking glass.
Molka smiled. “Yeh! Food!”
Omar kicked the door closed behind him and placed the table next to the bed. “Jhara liked to sit on the edge and eat from the table. Would that be acceptable for you?”
“Omar, if you threw my food against the wall and I had to lick it off, it would be acceptable at this point.”
Omar chuckled. “Please come sit.”
Molka sat on the bed’s edge.
Omar moved the table in front of her. “I made this for you personally and hope you will enjoy it. The old cook who works here does not make food fit for a lady.”
Molka looked down at the covered bowl. “What is it?”
“It’s a local dish. Kind of a lamb stew.” Omar removed the lid.
Molka viewed the thick, chunky brown concoction.
Omar said, “I can guarantee you it tastes much better than it looks.”
“I hope so. Because this looks more like lamb poo than lamb stew.”
Omar chuckled again. “Humor in the face of extreme adversity shows extreme character.”
“Or extreme lunacy,” Molka said.
“I’ll be back in about 30 minutes to pick up these things.”
“Ok. Thank you, Omar.”
Wait. Always look to recruit useful assets, Molka.
“Wait,” Molka said. “I wanted to ask you what happened to Jhara?”
Omar stopped and turned. “Rivin got rid of her after she refused to give herself to him.”
“She was able to fight him off, eh?”
“No, he took her almost every night.” Omar put his massive hand over his heart. “But Jhara refused to give herself to him in here. So he put her to work in his brothel.”
Molka patted the bed beside her. “Please sit with me while I eat so I can give you my opinion of your cooking.”
Omar did.
Molka picked up the spoon from the tray and took a big stew bite.
Omar viewed her with hopeful eyes. “Yes?”
Molka nodded. “Mmm…yes!”
Omar smiled.
Molka swallowed. “Who are those girls in the dungeon?”
“Rivin calls them his harem. I look after them too.”
Molka swallowed another bite. “His harem. That’s disgusting.”
“Yes, but they are more than playthings to him. They were all abducted by him from Zoran the Great’s domain. And keeping them gives him a sense of power over the great man he could never achieve in battle.”
Molka wiped her mouth on the napkin. “Don’t take this the wrong way because you feed me, and we’re becoming good friends, but why would a kind, thoughtful, strong man like you want to work with a weak, deranged animal like Rivin?”
“You keep eating, and I will tell you my story.”
Molka smiled and dug back into the stew.
“I come from across the border,” Omar said. “Not the border to which you are going, the other border attached to this country. My family is very poor, and the jobs are very few.”
“Eight years ago, my father agreed to smuggle a small amount of narcotics into this country for Rivin. My father was not proud to do this, but six starving children made him do things he is not proud of.”
“My father was stopped by the border police. He managed to escape them, but he lost the narcotics Rivin had already paid for. Rivin came to our home with his men and many guns. He threatened to kill me and all my brothers and sisters in front of my parents unless my father made good on the debt he owed. But my father could never pay that amount back.”
“So Rivin took me instead. Now I must stay here and work for Rivin until he decides my father’s debt is repaid.”
Moka swallowed. “And you’ve been here eight years?”
“Yes.”
“How much longer will it take to repay the debt?”
“I do not believe Rivin will ever consider the debt as repaid.”
Molka nodded. “And that’s why Rivin also considers you his most trusted man. He’s holding the lives of your family over your head to keep your loyalty. For life.”
Omar’s face showed resignation. “Yes. I am a prisoner here as much as you are.”
Molka swallowed the last stew bite, wiped her mouth on the napkin, exhaled, and smiled. “You were right. It did taste much better than it looked. Much, much, much, better.”
Omar smiled again. “I am so happy you enjoyed it. Would you like to take a walk in the yard around the interior walls before you sleep? Jahra and I would do this. I still do every evening. I find walking in the fresh air before bed helps me to relax.”
“Is that allowed for me? I don’t want to get you in trouble.”
“It will be fine. When Rivin is away, I am in charge of the garrison in ‘The Red Lion’s Den.’ A great responsibility to uphold since this fortress has never fallen to an outside attack in its 1,300-year history?”
“Wow,” Molka said. “That is an impressive responsibility. I saw many men leaving. Where are they going?”
“To do the things such men do in the dead of night.”
“And how big is the garrison left here you’re in charge of?”
“That would be me, a single guard on the front gate, a single guard on the walls, the old cook, and a single guard looking after the dungeon hostages.” Omar grinned. “I was only being playful. The responsibility of the garrison when Rivin is away with his men is
not that great. Now may I ask you a question?”
“Of course,” Molka said.
“How do you plan on escaping?”
Molka’s eyebrows rose. “Why do you think I’m going to try and escape?”
“Because you have humor in the face of extreme adversity and because you have a healthy appetite. These are two things which tell me you have not accepted your fate.”
Molka smiled. “You’re right. I haven’t. Because I’m counting on you letting me go.”
Omar frowned. “Molka, I wish I could. But my family would pay a horrible price.”
“I understand.” Molka poured herself a glass of the hot sweet tea and took a sip. “Well, with that option off the table, obviously getting out of a locked room and then getting out of a guarded fortress is not ideal. So my one chance to escape is when they take me to the border. I’ll make a move then. There’s no way I’m crossing that border. Not alive, anyway.”
Omar’s face saddened. “I truly hope it does not come to that.”
“Thanks. I would like to take that walk now, my friend.”
CHAPTER 30
Tariq entered the blockhouse’s common room to find Jäger sitting at a table watching a German football match on the big screen.
Tariq sat across from him. “Good evening.”
Jäger frowned. “Is it evening already? It is hard to tell inside this concrete tomb.”
“Yes, it’s already dark and ‘The Red Lion’ is out on the hunt.”
Jäger frowned again. “And I am stuck in his den.”
“I heard you and Fuchs will be staying for a few more days.”
“Regrettably.”
“I’ve known a few men in your profession, and they usually get a nice, guaranteed fee upfront. If this type of indefinite delay had happened, they would leave and move onto the next job.”
“Unfortunately, I do not have that option.”
Tariq grinned. “On the good side, I also understand Rivin has given you and Fuchs VIP access to all the beautiful teenage girls at his brothel in the refugee camp.”
Jäger used a remote to mute the television gone to postgame commentary. “I never take my enjoyment until I take care of my business.”
Tariq grinned again. “Well, I’m sure Fuchs will gladly enjoy your share.”
“Ernst Fuchs would never even consider going to such a place.”
“Oh, he’s a virtuous man?”
“In our line of work?” Jäger raised a sarcastic eyebrow. “Not possible. He just does not want to have any friendly or intimate contact with indigs.”
“What are indigs?” Tariq said.
“The indigenous people. The locals.”
Tariq nodded. “So he has racial issues.”
“No. The only people he really hates are the Russians. And that is because several of his relatives are still buried there in lost unmarked graves from the Second World War.”
“Then what’s his issue with indigenous people?” Tariq said.
“During our special forces service, we did 18 months in Afghanistan together. Our zone was supposed to be relatively quiet. The Americans got all the shit areas. But it was their war. Our job was to train indigs into police officers.”
“The men they sent us to train had to be approved by certain government officials in Kabul. A government which at that time set a new standard for corruption.”
“The first class we graduated went off to their assignment in an area north of us. Then one morning, about a month later, we received a distress call from them that they were pinned down by a superior force of insurgents and needed help. Our 15-man unit choppered up there.”
“When we arrived, our friends in distress quickly melted away, and we found ourselves surrounded and caught in a classic ambush. We called for air support. The Americans sent an A-10. Thank goodness for the A-10. We were able to be extracted but had two killed and four wounded. The men who died were very close to Ernst.”
“Obviously, we had been set up by our former trainees. Most likely for money or ideological reasons. They claimed they only withdrew to a better cover position. We knew better. We filed a formal complaint with the Kabul government officials, who promised there would be a thorough investigation. They concluded these friends of ours did not act improperly. Preposterous, of course. We later learned most of them were related to the officials who did the investigation.”
“Ernst was enraged and heartbroken. And not just by the loss of his two friends. Also, by the betrayal of the indigenous people he’d trained and grew to admire and respect. Something changed in him after that. A coldness came over him. He was never the same.”
“Not long after that, it came to my attention Ernst had recruited several men for an unauthorized operation. They would disguise themselves as insurgents, carry captured insurgent weapons, and pay our old friends a visit at their police station one night and make sure none of them woke up the next morning.”
“I canceled the operation, quietly, as I did not want Ernst to be brought up on charges. But I also, quietly, and behind Ernst’s back, requested he be sent home and recommended for an early discharge. He was sent home and given an early discharge for medical reasons.”
Jäger gazed past Tariq and rubbed the back of his neck with his right hand. “Ernst knew I was behind his discharge. He said he understood my reasonings. But I do not believe he has ever forgiven me for it. Or ever will, for that matter.” His eyes refocused on Tariq. “But enough old soldier stories. How goes your dilemma?”
“My dilemma is your dilemma. Until the general’s DNA sample gets confirmed, Rivin said the money will stay secured in his safe.”
“And if it is confirmed, he will give the money to you?”
“Of course not,” Tariq said.
“Then what will you do?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
Jäger smiled. “You impressed me today.”
“I did?”
“Yes. Very few men have stood that close to Ernst in a threatening manner and lived to tell the tale. You were very courageous at that moment.”
Tariq’s face hardened. “Killing those men was wrong. You should have done something about that.”
Jäger’s face hardened. “Killing those men was tragic and not the outcome I wanted. But they were armed combatants with a mission to safeguard the general. They should have employed advanced scouting. They should have been more cautious. You all walked within two meters of our concealment spot on the hill leading to that ravine. Those ghillie suits are very good camouflage systems but not infallible to the vigilant eye. Those four men failed themselves.”
Tariq’s hard face fell to resignation. “Maybe you’re right. Although, it sounds like you’re trying to rationalize to yourself as much as you are to me.” His eyes viewed the silent television screen. “But if I was really courageous at that moment, I would have shot Fuchs in the head.”
Jäger smiled. “Let us change to a less threatening subject, like idle gossip. Do you not think it a shame about what Rivin has decided to do with the Israeli woman? Very pretty. Very spirited.”
Tariq looked back to Jäger. “Yes, I hope her people have some captured operatives from that country they can exchange for her.”
“Then you have not heard the latest,” Jäger said. “Rivin’s decided to keep her as his personal concubine and then when he is done with her, put her to work in his refugee camp brothel. What do you think of that?”
Omar opened his bedroom door to a knock.
Tariq waited in the hallway. “Omar, my friend.”
“Tariq, my friend.”
“How are you on this night?”
“I am well.”
Tariq smiled. “And how is your beautiful new woman prisoner?”
“She went to bed.”
“May we talk a moment? In private?”
Omar nodded. “Of course, my friend. Please come in.”
Tariq entered the room, and Omar shut the door behind him.
> “What do you think of the two Germans?” Tariq said.
“The captain is quiet, professional, polite. The tall one, though, he is…not a nice man. He is very dismissive.”
“That’s Fuchs and a very good description. When he turned in his weapon, did he also give you a Glock?”
“Yes,” Omar said.
“He took that from me, and I would very much like it back.”
“Are you leaving?”
“No,” Tariq said. “I’m staying, which is why I want it. I may be a guest here, but I’m not sure how welcome I am. Could you get it for me?”
“My friend, you know Rivin requires all weapons to be secured in the armory unless you are leaving ‘The Red Lion’s Den’ for an operation or are on guard duty.”
“I know about his paranoia. Perhaps we can make a deal between friends, though. Did you enjoy that bottle of Arak I brought you a couple weeks ago?”
Omar smiled. “It gave me great comfort, my friend. Thank you again.”
Tariq’s face teased with an ultra-charismatic smile “How about if I sneak over to the camp now, get another bottle, and bring it to you. We can drink together, and you can tell me stories about your days as a great young wrestler. And at the end of the night, if my Glock happens to be sitting on that dresser, and I take it with me when I leave, who will be the wiser, my friend?”
Omar smiled again. “Make it two bottles, my friend.”
CHAPTER 31
Was I dreaming?
I swear I heard the door unlock.
Molka looked toward the door in her darkened room.
It opened a crack.
She tossed back the covers and sat up. “Omar?”
No answer.
The door opened further.
“Omar?”
No answer.
A male form stepped into the room.
Much too small for Omar.
Rivin come to rape her?
Not without a fight!
Molka leaped from the bed—clothed except for boots and socks—took one big step, and launched a flying side kick at the intruder.
She connected with his chest.
The intruder groaned and crumbled backward to the floor.
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