Heart of Danger by Gerald Seymour

Author:Gerald Seymour [Seymour, Gerald]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2010-10-14T20:03:15.634000+00:00

He wondered if it was shame that he saw, or whether it was fear. He imagined his quiet voice as a knife between the blades of Milan Stankovic's shoulders.

'.. . I nearly forgot to say. I'd have kicked myself if I'd forgotten to say it. There are questions being asked about you, your name is mentioned. I suppose if you hadn't been in Belgrade then you would have been able to prevent it, but you were in Belgrade when they dug for the bodies of our wounded that were killed after Rosenovici fell. That was a mistake, you being away in Belgrade. I'm told they're filling a file on you, Milan .. . There was a bigger mistake .. ."

The Intelligence Officer was bent over Milan Stankovic. Good sport. He whispered the words into the ear of Milan Stankovic.

"Time I was getting on, time I was back in Karlovac. Not too bad there because we've got power. Please tell Evica that my wife wanted to be remembered to her .. . They're asking questions, filling a file. Killing the English girl, Milan, that was a serious mistake .. ."

They talked quietly in the guardroom. They sat away from the scratched steel door of the cell.

Branko, passing his cigarettes: "It was the same bag in the police jeep .. . the same bag, white plastic, as was in the Dubelj hag's home. The goddamn bastards brought more food."

Milo, stubbing his own cigarette, taking another: "It wasn't that fucker's hands. You saw his nails, I saw his nails. Wasn't his bastard nails, was a woman's."

Stevo, striking the match: "We go back tonight, skip the music shit, we go back tonight until we find her, until she comes back down into that pig place .. ."

They smoked, they flicked their hands of playing cards on the table, they ignored the man behind the steel door of the cell, they waited for the return of Milan Stankovic.

She had come back to the crossing point at Turanj.

She had again left the Transit Centre and driven to the crossing point and parked her car, and waited. The convoy of the aid lorries, returning empty, should have been through an hour before. If the convoy had left Knin promptly and made good time, then it might have been through an hour and a half before. She stared up the road from where the Croat militia stood, and the light had started to dip. She looked up the hill, up beyond the small san gar of whitewashed sandbags where the troops of the Nigerian battalion had their machine gun, up towards the defence positions of the Serb militia, where their flag flew, and on the hill, greying in the low light, would be their trenches and their strong points and their mortars and artillery. Each time she glanced down at her watch and realized the convoy was delayed, then the fear tripped in her. If the convoy was late then it would be because of a security alert... if there was a security alert it would be because of a discovered infiltration .

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