Dead in a Week

by Andrea Kane

  Ellie obviously heard them, as well, because, speaking in Croatian, she asked Helena if she and Ivan also spoke English.

  A rueful look crossed Helena’s face and she answered Ellie’s question. At the end of her explanation, she angled her head to gaze proudly at her children.

  Ellie turned to Philip. “In a nutshell, Helena said that she and Ivan know only what they’ve picked up from their girls. Only half of Slavonians speak English—the younger half of the population. Her girls are being taught English in school and are now fluent in both languages. They also know some Albanian.”

  “That’s very impressive,” Philip replied.

  Hearing the sound of voices coming from the entranceway, Ivan Flego looked over and realized that Jozef and their guests had arrived. He said something to his daughters and then rose, walking over to join the group. He wore dark jeans, a striped button-down shirt, and leather shoes, rather than the informal American sneakers.

  He gave Jozef a hug and then turned and extended his hand to Philip and Ellie.

  Once again, Ellie introduced herself and Philip and then explained that she was multilingual and spoke both Croatian and Albanian, so the choice of language was theirs.

  “And Philip?” Ivan inquired in Croatian.

  A small smile played on Ellie’s lips. “He speaks only English. So I’ll be the communicator.”

  Ivan nodded his understanding.

  “These are the people I told you about,” Jozef interjected, switching to Albanian. “They’re friends of my nephew and they need your help. Please let them stay with you today and overnight. As soon as possible, drive them to the two deserted farmhouses I referred to in our conversation so that they can get a good look at them—but from enough of a distance so you won’t be seen. Philip will probably need to return to the area on his own. I want you to have no part in that. He’ll have to arrange for a rental car.”

  Once again, Philip was following the conversation via Ellie’s translation. And once again, he remembered Marc’s gut feeling that Jozef knew exactly where he was sending them. At this moment, he had to agree. The two deserted farmhouses had to be safe houses used by Sallaku’s men—something Jozef had clearly learned from the information-gathering of his own organized crime family.

  “I’ll make sure to keep this initial trip short, but it won’t be a quick drive-by,” Philip qualified to Jozef. “We’ll need a few hours at those two farmhouses. Then we leave and it becomes my problem.”

  “I understand,” Jozef responded to Ellie’s translation, meeting Philip’s eye with an awareness that said he did. “Just so you know, Đakovo isn’t large. You’ll get to the farmhouses you’re looking for in twenty minutes. Once you figure out your target location, Ivan will drive you to Osijek to collect your rental. You’ll be back in position soon after.”

  Philip nodded, waiting while Jozef made his requests to Ivan and Helena.

  “What is it they’re looking for?” Ivan asked.

  “Neither you or I need to concern ourselves with that,” Jozef assured him.

  Ivan’s dark brows rose. “And the reason you can’t do this yourself is because you might be recognized in this particular section of abandoned farmhouses.”

  A quick nod. “You’re very shrewd, my friend. I’m asking you to be a host and a guide. What this couple is looking for and why they want it is their business, not ours. We’ll be well paid for our help.”

  “You’ll want this arrangement to remain private,” Ivan said. “That will be a problem. Everyone here knows everyone else. Newcomers, especially ones who look like tourists, are instantly recognized as such.”

  Clearly, Jozef had thought that one through in advance. “You’re right that no one can know why they’re here. So if anyone asks, the woman is your cousin from Germany, visiting with her British husband.”

  Ivan glanced from Philip to Ellie and back again. “I suppose that would work.”

  “Do whatever is necessary to make them fit in.”

  “We will. And you’ll stay in contact?”

  “Of course.”

  Jozef turned to Ellie and Philip, intentionally dropping his voice so only they could hear as he did. “As I’m sure you’ve guessed, I’ve gotten the information I need to narrow down the search for you. Two farmhouses. Both Sallaku’s safe houses. Like all the farmhouses in the area, they have roughly the same layout.” He took a folded sheet of paper out of his pocket, then paused. “You have something for me?”

  Ellie passed along Jozef ’s pointed demand—one that Philip had already figured out, given the expectant look on Jozef ’s face.

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out twenty one-hundred-dollar bills, subtly tucking them into Jozef ’s hand. Sifting through them long enough to determine the amount, Jozef ’s eyes glittered with approval and he handed over the folded page.

  “I drew you a diagram to ease your way, including the points where you can get in and out. Doors are rarely locked. And the people inside get lazy and relaxed. Use that to your advantage. I hope you find the girl and kill everyone in Zarik Sallaku’s family.”

  Philip took the diagram without responding to Jozef ’s words. He skimmed the layout, which was simple and straightforward—a one-story building containing a kitchen with an attached dining area, two or three bedrooms, and a single bathroom. A front door and a back door. No side entrances. Pretty much what he’d expected.

  “Thank you for this,” he said.

  “You can thank me when you’ve avenged my nephew’s death.”

  * * *

  Forty-five minutes after Jozef had driven away, Ivan’s sedan backed off the patch of concrete and into the street. Helena sat beside him, with Philip and Ellie in the back. To the average onlooker, they appeared to be two couples, out for a ride.

  With the Flegos’ assistance, Philip and Ellie had changed clothes to modify their appearance. Gone were Philip’s silk shirt, designer sports coat, and Patek Philippe watch. Now, along with his tight-fitting dark-wash jeans, he wore a modest cotton button-down shirt and equally modest sports jacket beneath a plain wool overcoat and a matching scarf wrapped around his neck for warmth. He carried a long, black canvas duffel bag containing Jozef ’s hand-drawn maps of the farms in the area and his own surveillance gear. And Ellie wore a cotton blouse with her jeans, together with a similar wool coat and multicolored print scarf that was pulled down just enough to show off her Croatian silver filigreed earrings. They might not fool the locals, but at least they didn’t stick out like sore thumbs.

  Ivan drove for a short while, then veered left off the main road. Immediately, the road transformed into a rutted dirt path, making the ride bumpy and rough. The suburban houses disappeared, replaced by acres of undeveloped land—endless stretches of green with patches of snow, punctuated by brown underbrush and leafless trees made naked by winter. Watching intently, Philip spotted more than one neglected farmhouse, set far back from the road. Their exteriors were rotted, their shutters were hanging, and their windows were cracked and falling apart.

  He reached for his bag, ready to grab his binoculars and begin his surveillance the moment Ivan stopped. The Audi A4 sedan had enough windows to give him multiple angles from which to view the buildings and any visible occupants. His job right now was to find the precise farmhouse he was seeking and scope it out. After that, he’d return to do static recon at the site.

  To his surprise, Ivan stopped at none of the passing farmhouses. He just continued along, ignoring the structures entirely, never slowing down or even glancing around.

  Philip remained quiet. But he eased forward on his seat, keeping his hand on his duffle bag, studying everything they passed.

  A minute later, Ivan made another left-hand turn, saying the last thing Philip wanted to hear Ellie translate but knew he couldn’t argue with.

  “Before we go on, I want to show you something. I’m a proud Croatian, and I want you to see the best of Đakovo before I show you the worst.”

 
As he spoke, a cluster of buildings appeared—not a tiny farmhouse like the one Jozef had drawn, and certainly not a replica of the ramshackle buildings they’d just passed—but a veritable compound that covered both sides of the road. On one side was the main house and a large barn, surrounded by multi-acres, with a dirt driveway on which several parked cars stood. Inside the barn’s open door, Philip could see a good-sized silver tank, clearly a storage tank of some sort.

  On the other side of the road, a Claas tractor roared along, pulling agricultural machinery in its wake. Men in work pants, winter jackets, and baseball caps called out to one another as they made their way about—some of them weaving their way through pens where cows were grazing and others walking in and out of adjacent outbuildings, at least one of those buildings giving the appearance of an additional barn or stable. There were women working, too, and children—some young ones who stayed close to their mothers’ sides, others older and working right along with the adults. And three dogs—the size and shape of sheepdogs but with fur that was jet-black, curly, and silky-looking—who were literally herding people along.

  “What breed of dogs are those?” Ellie asked in Croatian, clearly sharing none of Philip’s urgency. “I’ve never seen ones quite like them.”

  “And you won’t outside of my country,” Ivan replied. “They’re Croatian sheepdogs, unique to here. They herd animals and people as well.” His eyes twinkled. “Everyone here is hardworking, even the dogs.”

  “This place looks huge.” Ellie was looking around, taking everything in.

  “It’s one of Đakovo’s larger dairy farms,” Ivan explained, pointing to the side of the road where the action was taking place. “The dairy operations are underway. The stables are where the cows are kept. And that large tank inside the barn is where the milk is stored.” He raised his voice as the roaring of machinery got louder. “The process becomes very loud. The family can barely hear one another, even if they yell.”

  “The family?” Ellie asked.

  Ivan nodded. “The farm is family owned and operated. The husband and wife live and work here with their children and grandchildren. I think there are about twenty people in all.”

  Despite Philip’s urgency, his curiosity was aroused. “Is there particular training they have to go through, or do they just learn from each other?”

  After hearing the question in Croatian, Ivan smiled. “I think I’m going to surprise you. The owner of the farm graduated from Osijek University with an agricultural degree, as did his wife. His children are studying to do the same. This is a very common path to follow here. As for their food production, the farmer supplies milk commercially and meat for McDonald’s.”

  Philip blinked, realizing he’d been put in his place—and rightfully so. “I apologize. Thank you for setting me straight.” He glanced down at his Urban Watch—a uniquely Croatian brand that Ivan had loaned him.

  Okay, it had only been a ten-minute setback.

  As if reading his mind, Ivan made a quick swerve around and reversed his path. “I apologize for the brief detour, but as I said, I wanted you to see the best of my town, not just the worst.” He turned onto the road and continued along toward their destination. “We’ll reach the farms you’re interested in seeing in five minutes.”

  24

  Jítuán Headquarters

  Shenzhen, China

  1 March

  Thursday, 6:35 p.m. local time

  The view from the CEO’s office in the towering modern skyscraper was striking, overlooking a city now often referred to as China’s Silicon Valley.

  New technology companies were popping up everywhere, and overseas companies were building subsidiary offices here. Jítuán was one of the original entities, headquartered right here in Shenzhen and having grown from a small business to a thriving corporation.

  With the addition of this new, industry-changing acquisition, they would become a corporate giant.

  Xu Wei sat at his desk, his fingers steepled in front of him and his mind rapidly assessing his options based on what he’d learned.

  He was a hard man who had no tolerance for disobedience. However, he was also a practical man—one who knew that achieving the ultimate goal was all that mattered. There was a great deal at stake here, a groundbreaking technology to acquire and to release prior to any further announcements from NanoUSA. So he had to rapidly assess any potential threats and to deal with them accordingly.

  Pennington had involved someone else in the process. By doing so, he had violated his instructions.

  That angered Xu—but in this case punishment would do more harm than good. He was well aware that, were he to communicate the situation to the Albanians, they’d kill Pennington’s daughter on the spot. That was not Xu’s intention. He wanted no blood on his hands. He’d made that clear from the onset. Partly because he wasn’t a man who achieved his goals through violence, and partly because, should Lauren Pennington be killed, there was every chance the international investigation might find its way to his company and to him.

  No, that was untenable. Which meant another direction needed to be taken—one he would have to determine on his own.

  True, Pennington had sought assistance. But the man was desperate. His daughter’s life was on the line. And the help he’d solicited hadn’t been law enforcement. It had been his most trusted corporate source—his personal assistant. Gallagher had the skills required to transmit the photos they’d demanded. And he’d have the skills to complete the job in the requisite amount of time. It was the least egregious violation Pennington could have made—a logical solution to a near-impossible task.

  As for Gallagher, the man was being paid for his work and for his silence. He was greedy and he was smart. He’d stay quiet as long as he was receiving his money. He’d gain nothing by alerting anyone else to his actions. And once the transfer of data was complete, he no longer represented a threat. Anything he decided to share with law enforcement would only serve to implicate him.

  Time was short. Pennington had under two days to deliver the remainder of the technology. Given that, Xu decided, a mild but outright threat would be enough to frighten Pennington into unassisted and immediate compliance.

  Xu reached for his private cell phone.

  He had to act now.

  The next communication between father and daughter was just a few hours away.

  Đakovo, Slavonia

  1 March

  Thursday, 12:45 p.m. local time

  Ivan drove his now filthy car up the rutted dirt road and parked behind a stand of trees. An acre of land wrapped around what was ostensibly a deserted farmhouse, surrounded by nothing but soggy ground dotted with an occasional ice patch, all with a perimeter of unkempt brush and a crumbling stone wall. In the distance, there was the outline of a second farmhouse.

  Instantly, Philip whipped out his binoculars and did an overall scan of the area.

  “Where does this road ultimately lead to?” he asked. “And are there other ways to get in and out?”

  Ellie’s answer to the first question was: “to a dead end” and to the second question: “no.”

  Philip grabbed his Nikon D-850, removed the AF-S FX Nikkor eight-hundred-millimeter lens from its protective case, and attached the massive lens to the camera body. He’d be able to see a fly’s nostril hairs from a hundred meters with this thing—or so the salesman had said.

  At the time, he’d wondered if a fly even had nostril hairs.

  Quickly, he took a few shots. The place was a ramshackle structure that looked like it would collapse to the ground if given a hard shove. There was a barn outside but no animals in sight. Given the house dimensions, window placement, and one-story height, Philip suspected that what Jozef had said was true—this farm had the same layout as the one he’d provided in his sketch.

  Long minutes passed as Philip continued his scrutiny. There were absolutely no signs of life and no sense that anyone had been here in months, maybe more.

  Phili
p’s gut told him they should move on, making sure to stop a substantial distance away from the farmhouse. The deserted, barren road would make it far too easy to spot an approaching vehicle.

  He made the request through Ellie, and Ivan nodded, pulling back onto the road and traveling closer to where the second farmhouse was located. Once again, he pulled his car behind a stand of trees, keeping it hidden from view.

  Philip repeated his procedure. This farmhouse could have been cloned from the first. Same surroundings—unkempt brush, soggy ground, and crumbling stone fence. Same dilapidated appearance. Same construction. Same dimensions and exterior appearance. Same barn—or not.

  Philip’s gaze locked on the side of the barn closest to the house, and he peered intently through his camera lens, moving from the barn to the house and focusing on an overhang of naked trees. Parked against the building—length-wise, headlights facing out—was a black sedan. The combination of its proximity to the house and the shadows cast by the tree branches—black on black—made it practically invisible, unless someone was looking hard.

  Which Philip was.

  He took some photos, then picked up his binoculars and resumed his surveillance, studying the house from different angles, making mental notes of concealment spots for the team to use during the rescue, and ultimately waiting to see what comings and goings might take place.

  It took a while, but eventually his patience paid off. One muscular guy who had to be over six feet tall left through the back door, got into the black sedan, and pulled out.

  As the car passed their secluded location, Philip had a good view of its driver, even without his binoculars.

  “Is there anything distinguishable about him that suggests he’s of Albanian descent?” he asked Ivan.

  “Tan skin, dark features aren’t just Albanian,” Ellie translated Ivan’s reply. “But he’s tall. That’s a trait of Albanian men.”