As the two cars began their ascent up the hill towards Dot and L’Eboueur, Dot immediately pulled out his phone to call the Belgrade number in the hopes of speaking directly to Anton in the BMW. The phone call was brief, the standard, ‘Who is this?” before the line went dead.
The two cars stopped roughly 50 meters from where the two had positioned themselves, although now sighting the dangerous reflection, if only for a moment, the two had taken up a position placing their vehicle between them and the potential sniper.
The lead vehicle, a Jeep not unlike that belonging to Dot and L’Eboueur, flung open its doors to reveal four men exiting, two brandishing modern assault rifles, the newer AK-101. The driver and passenger both exposed what appeared to be CZ-99, 9mm handguns. The four men were relaxed in appearance, these types of exchanges must have been common to them based on their behaviour, casually lighting cigarettes and talking amongst themselves.
The doors of the BMW behind the Jeep also opened, Anton and what looked like a bodyguard exiting the vehicle. As Dot and L’Eboueur observed, Anton pulled out a phone and began dialling.
Dot’s phone rang, the exchange was even briefer than the call to Belgrade, Anton asking about the location of the laptop, Dot asking if the sniper belonged to him. As if the question sparked a mix of panic and frustration, Anton hung up the phone, reached into the BMW and started waving a backpack around at the two men up the hill.
L’Eboueur was getting impatient, waving his arm for them to walk up the hill, still gripping his AK-47 in his primary hand. After watching some exchanging of words, the two were shocked that one of the men in the group of four began trudging up the hill, pistol in hand and cigarette still hanging from his mouth.
Both L’Eboueur and Dot were wary of the man who approached them, clearly out of breath from his brief walk up the hill; he demanded they come down to collect the money. Both Dot and L’Eboueur refused, demanding that one of them bring the money for the laptop. After a few moments of raised voices leading nowhere, the man began his trudge down the hill, both Dot and L’Eboueur doing their best to remain as shielded from the sniper's position as possible.
As the man spoke to Anton upon reaching the two vehicles, Anton began motioning violently for the two to walk down the hill.
L’Eboueur and Dot looked at each other with similar expressions, as if thinking the same thing, Dot opened the rear door of their Jeep, leaving it open as he sat with one leg in, one leg out, his submachine gun across his chest. L’Eboueur climbed in the driver’s seat, also with his door ajar, his AK-47 braced against the rear view mirror. The Jeep came to life and began a slow drive, almost a roll down the hill towards the two parked cars.
A flurry of panic came over the men standing at the front Jeep, not knowing how to respond. The speed of the oncoming vehicle was in no way a threat, just an unexpected response, L’Eboueur constantly looking at his surroundings found what appeared to be a perfect place, roughly 20 meters from the two vehicles, a large mausoleum blocking the view from where the two had noticed the potential sniper. Bringing the Jeep to a halt, L’Eboueur exited the driver’s door, Dot remaining where he sat, ready to move should anything untoward take place.
Anton waddled forward, exposing a stack of money in the backpack he still had in hand, shouting to see the laptop. Dot leaned across the car, grabbing the laptop from the back seat and showing it to Anton. At the sight of his prize, Anton became even louder in his verbalisation, shouting and demanding the laptop, L’Eboueur responded, also demanding the money.
Dot could see that something was not right with Anton, he seemed ill, bloated, wheezy, red rashes appearing from the collar of his shirt and from under his sleeves every time he choked out expressions of anger.
Anton’s patience had run out, stumbling backwards as he gave the order for his men to open fire. The back and forth shouting of Anton and L’Eboueur ended quickly as Anton gave the order, L’Eboueur was the first to respond, his AK barking to life as he had already chosen his targets.
Within seconds, the two men armed with assault rifles who were standing by the front Jeep were cut to pieces, glass shattering as clouds of red mist exploded from their backs as the 7.62 rounds cut straight through them.
Dot dove into his Jeep, scrambling to the driver’s seat as the slightly less audible sound of the 9mm handguns fired in the direction of L’Eboueur, clipping the door near his arms and head, forcing him to pause ever so briefly.
Anton’s bodyguard also stepped from the BMW, also firing at L’Eboueur, the familiar whistle of high speed projectiles sounding in his ear as he felt his hair blow with the proximity of the missed shot. Turning his AK towards the bodyguard, L’Eboueur let out another burst, watching the bodyguard recoil as the bullets slammed into him through the BMW door that he was trying to take cover behind.
Dot slammed his foot against the accelerator, his Jeep bucking forward towards the parked cars, in a panic at the oncoming vehicle, one of the men using it for cover dove away into the brown grass of the cemetery. As the two vehicles collided, the driver of the parked Jeep had been using the door as cover, a fatal error as the impact forced the door to close on him, bashing him to the ground while the car rolled backwards, over his waist, his gurgles of pain silent as the air was knocked from his lungs.
L’Eboueur was in the open, the mausoleum still shielding him from the sniper, he steadily marched towards the three vehicles now in front of him, the BMW his primary target as he watched Anton stumble in his attempts to reach it. The driver of the BMW, who was yet to appear outside the car had responded well to the sudden change in events, able to reverse the BMS just enough to avoid the oncoming collateral collision.
Noticing that the BMW was being primed for escape, L’Eboueur let out a hail of bullets at the bonnet of the car and let his recoil rise towards the driver.
Dot shook off the impact trauma of the collision, taking his pistol from its holster and looking for the man who dove out of the way. He was on all fours, crawling towards the AK-101 that had been dropped by his former associate. Dot quickly fired at him, almost too soon, his two shots kicking up dust in the man’s face as the bullets landed right in front of his head.
The man grabbed the rifle and immediately sprayed wildly at the figure marching down the hill with the assault rifle blazing.
Dot paused for the slightest of moments, letting the last daze of the impact leave him before firing again, two more shots grouped at the base of the man’s skull, leaving a pattern of blood around his neck like an exploded water balloon.
Anton had reached the BMW, desperately trying to climb into the back seat. His bodyguard, while not dead, was sitting in the front passenger seat, blood flowing from his mouth as he raised his pistol towards L’Eboueur who was almost on top of them.
Without pause, L’Eboueur sprayed the front seats of the BMW through the windshield as he strode up the bonnet, raking the driver in broken glass and bullets. The bodyguard managed a single shot that grazed L’Eboueur’s hip, barely a scratch before he too was almost cut in half.
Dot could see him reaching for something, the glint of a nickel plated pistol catching his eye. Again Dot’s shot missed his target, his bullet slamming into the rear seat, mere millimeters from Anton’s nose. L’Eboueur knew too well that Dot would not have fired without reason, he himself emptying the last six rounds of his magazine into Anton who fell flat across the back seat.
L’Eboueur and Dot met each other's gaze, Dot stating only a time, 15 seconds. L’Eboueur rushed to the mangled Jeep, grabbing anything that looked useful, arms, ammunition, anything he could use. Dot also reacted quickly, scooping up the bag of money Anton had dropped after scanning the interior of the BMW.
15 seconds later, their Jeep roared to life as L’Eboueur did his best to drive controlled, yet wild enough for the sniper to have major difficulty.
*
Dot pulled his phone from his pocket as L’Eboueur sped away in the direction of Sarajevo, Rudek’s voice was reserved as it came down the line. Dot cancelled his request for additional men, explaining that he was done accepting jobs from Rudek before hanging up the phone abruptly.
L’Eboueur and Dot exchanged frustrated comments and frustrations in the car before coming up with a plan. They would head to Zepa, a town on the way to Sarajevo, dump the Jeep, gear and everything not essential, steal a vehicle for the remainder of the trip to Sarajevo and book flights to wherever they wanted to go in order to disappear.
The switch had been quick, the two men now driving towards Sarajevo in an old Yugo beater, their packs, sidearms, laptop bag and what they discovered was a pack full of newspaper with a few Euros over the top was all that was in the car.
Dot’s phone began ringing again, he refused to answer. On the third attempt he answered with an angered tone. Whoever it was on the line, they were angry, Serbian, and clearly someone higher up the food chain than Anton. Putting the phone on speaker, the voice demanded that the laptop be delivered to Belgrade and that Anton had gone rogue, L’Eboueur scoffed back, refusing any such order, Dot was far more reserved, not agreeing to the task, but not disagreeing either before hanging up the phone.
The phone rang again as the Fiat pulled into a small hotel on the outskirts of Sarajevo, Rudek’s voice was far more staggered than usual. He had received a similar call, Rudek explained that there was not going to be a Belgrade meet. He had negotiated the same location, only not in the cemetery, in a warehouse, no open ground and that Dot and L’Eboueur would set the time.
Rudek wanted to remain professional, explaining that the only reason the voice was willing to deal was that it was his own man Anton to blame, everything else had gone to plan. After taking time to distress, drink and recover from the events of the past hours, L’Eboueur and Dot agreed to the second meeting, Rudek informing them that he would be sending two additional men for support, they just needed to know when and where to pick up Dot and L’Eboueur.
Time had dissolved into a series of moments rather than hours, looking at the clock in their hotel room, the two noticed it had only just gone 1pm. Dot had finished pulling the shards of glass from L’Eboueur’s shoulder and cleaned his hip wound as if it never happened. L’Eboueur was growing more and more frustrated, wanting the job to just be done. He didn’t want to wait, arguing with Dot about the option for surveillance and planning. Not willing to get caught up in the argument with a man who had just shredded five men, Dot agreed and sent a text to Rudek to get his men to pick them up at 2pm.
The car was standard, a dark Sedan, two men inside. L’Eboueur signaled first, announcing his presence to them, entering the back seat and guiding them around the back of the hotel where Dot was waiting in case anything had gone sour. L’Eboueur nodded to Dot that it was safe to enter before the four men drove away in the direction of Zepa.
The drive felt like an eternity to all occupants of the car, the two Serbian men in the front seat speaking to each other freely, but showing clear signs of nervousness. Dot did his best to assure them that they would be safe after discovering that they spoke English, the two men advising that their stress came from not making it home alive. After a few minutes of conversation with Dot, one of them seemed slightly more at ease, the other remaining dubious.
The familiar view of Srebrenica opened up ahead of the car, Dot and L’Eboueur both felt themselves shift in their seats out of tension. The car approached the coordinates given to them by Rudek for the new exchange, the warehouse was large and plain, mostly stripped of anything valuable, leaving rusted vehicles and burnt timber across the main floor. Dot and L’Eboueur walked the perimeter, taking note of any possible threat, both agreeing that they would not set a time until they were convinced they were not walking into another ambush. It took some time, but they were convinced. They opened the trunk of the sedan to find assorted small arms, one assault rifle, a pair of sub machine guns and light body armor.
It was agreed that the two Serbian men would remain as purely support, one would take the rifle and head upstairs to the office that overlooked what was once the factory floor. The other would remain inside the main door, but off to the side and out of view with a submachine gun. Dot held the laptop while L’Eboueur took the other submachine gun as they would be the only ones in view of whatever was coming their way.
Dot called the number in his phone that had called previously, advising that the exchange was to happen at 7pm, an hour from the time of the call. The voice on the other ned of the line advised he will be sending one man with the money.
As time ticked closer to 7pm, a single car approached the warehouse, a black sedan, driving cautiously and in no way threatening. The Sedan came to a stop a couple of meters from the main roller door of the warehouse where it had a clear view of the car Dot and L’Eboueur had arrived in, pointed directly back at the main door. Dot was leaning against a rusted tractor, his hand oh his pistol that was tucked away in his back. L’Eboueur was leaning against the car, his submachine gun on display as to appear the main threat.The driver’s side door of the black sedan opened, the entire car lifted as the weight of the driver stepped out. The driver, at least six foot and built like someone you would not be surprised to see in a Mr Universe competition, exited the vehicle. Dressed in full military fatigues, heavy armour, balaclava and combat boots. In his chest rig holster, a huge pistol, the Russian Rsh-12, the revolver designed to fire heavy rifle cartridges, a large combat blade strapped to his thigh.
The monster of a man made all of his moves slow and intentional, taking the bag of money from his car, taking slow and purposeful steps towards L’Eboueur and Dot. L’Eboueur moved first, his submachine draped across his chest, ready to be raised at a glance. As the two came within 5 meters of each other, the large man raised his hand to signal for them to stop. Dot also approached, placed the laptop on the ground and stood back, waiting for a response. The large man threw the bag of money at Dot’s feet before picking up the laptop bag. His eyes met with L’Eboueur who couldn’t help but squint, the eyes he was looking at were wrong, there was something off about them that he could not make out clearly. The holes in the balaclava allowing him a clear view, but the failing light of the evening making it more difficult to see.
The large man started the laptop, the standard start-up tone however glitched and seemed to repeat itself for a few moments. Dot could also here his phone at the same time begin to beep repeatedly. The large man closed the laptop, placed it in the back and began taking steps back towards his car before turning and entering his vehicle.
As the sedan took its time to leave, Dot pulled his phone from his pocket, inspecting it to see why it had started beeping at that moment, and stopped when the man stepped away with the laptop. Satisfied that his paranoia was adequate, he pulled the back of his phone off, took the battery out and destroyed every other part of the phone before signalling the two support men to come back to the car.
*
Getting out of Bosnia proved far easier than getting in, once back in Sarajevo, the flights were booked, Charvert flying directly back to Paris, Marek choosing to go a less direct route, opting for a flight to Munich before heading the rest of the way to Poland by land.
Marek received his package in the mail, the flash drive full of files from Lennart’s computer, he uploaded it to his secure server before concealing it in a safe he had installed behind several layers of wall, something not easily found by even the best of thieves, a place for his most secure of insurance policies from former clients.
An incident like the one encountered in Bosnia, always had fallout and consequences, for Marek and Charvert, it was a decrease in work. Marek’s usually busy schedule or requests dropped by almost 25% overnight, where Charvert’s usual handler, Alex, who would call an average on twice a week, was barely once, and it was usually for small jobs, nothing like the main stream action he was used to receiving.
After two weeks in Poland, Marek received a message on his usual online forum, as single line of text, a pathway to a file.
Curious, Marek entered the pathway into all known internet havens for illicit activity, before it dawned on him, this was for the laptop files. A flash of panic struck him, who knew he had a copy? Who was watching? Who could crack his software?
He logged in to his secure network, pasted the pathway into the folder, and waited. The folder had files of manifests, missing shipments of US arms in Iraq and Afghanistan, missing supplies and shipping routes across the Black Sea and Caspian Sea. Personal notations of Brigadier General Lennart regarding references to someone or something with the initials DC. Marek’s first thought, something to do with Washington, however after spending some time reading through the notes left by the General, DC sounded more and more like a person, a source, a fact checker of sorts.
As the notes from Lennart went on, DC became a name, Donald Carrol, a source for Lennart on his crusade.
Uneasy that someone out there knew he had a coly of the files, Marek couldn’t shake the feeling that this was possibly an invitation from this same source to reach out. Marek could think of nothing else but the interest that his partner in crime on the job, L’Eboueur, he had a keen interest in finding out what was on the laptop. Marek thought it more of an obligation, if they knew he had the data, whoever sent the email would certainly know of the Frenchman’s involvement.
Marek sent an email to the only contact he knew had a direct line to L’Eboueur, a middle man named Alex, inviting his compatriot for coffee in Berlin, a middle ground with no chance of ambush.
*
Charvert’s phone rang loudly, it almost startled him as he relaxed in an armchair after a long day with former acquaintances, doing his best to brush up on his skills regarding silent entry into places he shouldn’t be. Answering it he heard Alex’s voice give him the details of the proposed meeting in Berlin. Apprehensive but itching to get out of the house, Charvert accepted the meeting, wondering to himself why he was being contacted directly, assuming it was some sort of ambush.
The Cafe was busy, a steady flow of pedestrians in an ever flowing motion of random directions, sitting at a table alone, drinking coffee and reading the local newspaper, was his Polish accomplice. Charvert’s monocular not picking up any signs of strange behaviour, ambush, or even alarm. There was Dot, plain as day, in the open, waiting for company. Charvert was pulling the seat out from the table before Marek even noticed him, the pleasantries that were exchanged were social in nature, even if they were under dubious circumstances.
Dot began to explain the series of events regarding the email, his digging into the files and alarm of someone knowing that they had stolen a copy. L’Eboueur was strangely enthusiastic about pursuing the lead. His attitude focussed on finding out more about Donald Carrol and the part he had to play, a curious behaviour in Dot’s eyes for someone of his skill set.
After two espresso and a pretzel, the two decided to spend the night in Berlin, find out what they can and meet at the same place for lunch the next day. A nervous calm between them, both understanding the strange nature of their meeting, but the genuine concern gestured by arranging to meet.
Gorman sent Marek a packet of information regarding Carrol, an American born Russian citizen, based in Crimea. He was an information library for those who could afford his knowledge.
Carrol sold to everyone, Russians, Americans, Ukrainians, however he was trusted by no one.
It was only earlier in the year that Russia had seized the Crimea again, putting a strain on the region, making information a gold mine for those who took the opportunity. Carrol was that exact type of opportunist.
Carrol was based in Sevastopol, now back under Russian control. Carrol was known as an expert on the Geopolitical situation, a good friend to have for strangers in the region.
*
Explaining all he had discovery with l’Eboueur, Dot and his accomplice agreed that meeting with Carrol was the best course of action to discover who may be after them, or at the very least, be profiting from it. Marek pulled out his laptop as the two of them ate, emailing the address he had received from Gorman. Imitating contractors with US affiliations ,the email exchange that took place over a very brief 20 minute period had seen both men booked on a flight to Sevastopol the next day.
Dot would use one of his many identities to be best prepared for the region, Florin Balan of Romania, a relatively plain ID to attract minimal attention. l’Eboueur would do the same, Sasha Volkov, a Russian ID he had used only once to get through a border checkpoint in Chechnya which felt to him like a lifetime ago.
The two of them landed at Sevastopol at 10pm to see a man in a suit holding a card with their names on it. Moving to him calmly, he explained that he was to drive them to their hotel and would pick them up the next day at 12 noon for their meeting with Carrol. Dot and l’Eboueur both were put off guard, it was not something they had experienced before, a driver who was well dressed, climbing into a car that was barely a month old, a Mercedes E350, arriving at accommodation at the Hilton, this all seemed very strange to them both.
Spending the night in five star accommodation can cause many distractions, something Dot and l’Eboueur couldn’t afford, and they knew it. Both men spent the evening eating well and drinking light, waiting to see if someone would come for them in the night.
The morning sun bathed the rooms in a dull glow through the curtains, both men rose to hot showers and fresh coffee before meeting in the dining area for breakfast. Deciding what to with the hours until their scheduled pickup, both men first ate a good breakfast before Dot found an online local retailer of clothes that would be more appropriate for their first meeting with Donald Carrol. This was a freshly capitalist place, the Riviera of the nation, they could not meet Carrol dressed in jeans and polo shirts, more was expected. Arranging for an employee to pick up the order and have it to their rooms by 11am, L’Eboueur used his morning to look into where he may find a willing seller of contraband that he desired, mainly firearms to protect himself if in need to make a quick exit. Dot however spent the rest of his morning scouting out ways to escape, if this beautiful city by the sea turned on them, he needed to know how to get out.
As 11 am arrived, their clothes also came in long plastic covers. By 11:30am, they felt like they had just walked out of a scene from Miami Vice, the summer suits worth more than they were comfortable spending, even on their lucrative incomes.
Exiting the elevator with a few minutes to spare, the driver of the Mercedes spotted the from his seat in the lobby, ushering them to his car that was waiting in the valet zone. The picturesque drive showed them the city and surroundings, lavish homes built on sea side slopes, glass from ceiling to floor mixed with European architecture.
The Mercedes pulled into a large driveway, the tall security gate opening as the car approached, through the gate the car slowly traversed the long driveway, coming to a stop on the circular parking area outside the main entrance. The Driver opened the doors for L’Eboueur and Dot to exit, ushering them through the front doors and across the polished marble floors of the foyer towards large double doors filled with stain glass, a view of the sea beyond. Heading through the doors, the sun bounced off the terracotta outdoor tiles and shimmering of the crystal clear water in the large swimming pool. The smell of meat over hot coals made both Dot and L’Eboueur look around them for the source of the aroma. The driver pointed them towards the far side of the pool, as he turned to head back inside, both Dot and L’Eboueur noticed sidearm appear for an instant under his jacket.
The conversation was full of tests and prompts, Dot opening with how the information they had led them to Carrol. Teasing that the information could only have been obtained through the files of Lennart. Carrol was just as playful, taking every opportunity to bask in his self-made success and the poor budgets of those he sold information to. It was when Carrol wanted to know who the two worked for that he became further curious, he could tell the two men in front of him were not intelligence men, they were something else. As Dot answered without answering, Carrol shifted his gaze back to the meat he was cooking, another single work spoken, ‘Burgers’.
Standing at the barbeque, L’Eboueur took it upon himself to have his own conversation with Carrol. His tone was not aggressive, but direct, discovering that Donald did little more than confirm the suspicions of Lennart, there was not enough money changing hands for Carrol to take the information further.
Piecing together what he was learning about his two guests, Carrol could tell that the reason they had come was a mix of personal and self preservation. Sitting back down at the lounges, the three of them with burgers in hand accompanied by scotch.
Carrol took the lead in the conversation, explaining his interest and role, his current interest being missing shipments of arms that are disappearing once they arrive from the port of Samsun in Turkey to Odessa. His man on the ground in Odessa was recently discovered with his insides professionally put on his outside. Carrol needed men with skills to track the arms once they land in Odessa to where they are being delivered. The arms are trackable only at short range with radio frequency tracking devices installed. Sharing his knowledge of Russian smugglers doing most of the heavy lifting, the tight knit crews of the freighters carrying the arms would be impossible to infiltrate, offering the support he could by way of alternative transportation to Odessa.
Carrol’s deal was simple: he would provide additional information regarding what Lennart was looking into in exchange for first hand intelligence on where the missing shipments of arms were going. A simple exchange of information, however getting out alive would always be at the front of the minds of anyone stupid enough to take on the Russian Mafia running the show.
Carrol’s way in, a friend in the Russian navy, Kostya, able to provide additional men for support and a small navy vessel to deliver them to Odessa.
Agreeing to the exchange, both Dot and L’Eboueur didn’t taste the scotch burn their throats as they gulped it down. Nothing about this was going to be easy, turning to leave, the Driver met them at the door, Carrol had introduced him as Yuri. Driving the two men back to the Hilton, he did not open the doors for them this time, instead handing them a phone each and uttering ‘Dasvidaniya’.
