Read Evil Deeds (Bob Danforth 1) Online
Authors: Joseph Badal
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Thrillers, #Spy Stories & Tales of Intrigue, #Espionage
“I’ve tried to reach you for two days, General,” Olga Madanovic said, leaning toward the man standing in front of her. She put her hands on her hips and gave him a challenging look, as though demanding an apology. “I chalkmarked the fire hydrant, just as I always do. What happened?”
General Darius Alexandrovic took a seat and smiled at the blond American agent. “You Americans are so damned impatient. What do you think? I wait all day for you to leave me a signal?”
Olga turned away and looked around the bungalow she rented in the Yugoslav capital. She reached over and pulled the curtains aside a couple inches and peered out the living room window at the General’s staff car parked out front, and then at the Belgrade skyline in the distance. She inhaled deeply and brought her anger under control. “Things are getting critical. I need you to respond to my signals as quickly as possible.”
“I’m managing logistics for the whole Serb Army. NATO’s bombing us every day and blowing up our supplies. It just makes my job more impossible. On top of everything else, I’m helping you, but only so this civil war doesn’t escalate into a worldwide conflict.”
“Yeah, General. Do you think your assistance might also have something to do with the million dollars we put in a Swiss account for you over the last eighteen months?”
Alexandrovic leaned back and stared, grimfaced, at the CIA field agent. Finally, a smile creased his features. “Well, you’ve got me there, Olga, darling. So why did you want to see me? I can’t stay much longer. Have you finally decided to go to bed with me?”
Olga frowned at the Serb general, keeping the disgust she felt from showing. Their cover was that they were having an affair. In reality, that would never happen.
“You know, my dear,” he said, “it would be better if we
did
fuck once in awhile. There’s nothing better than authenticity in a cover story.”
Olga smiled at him. “Tell you what. I’ll do it if you sign over your Swiss bank account to me.”
“You’ve an inflated opinion of yourself. But it’s helpful to know you have a price.”
Olga dropped her smile. “What do you know about Antonin Karadjic meeting with a Gypsy woman?” she said.
“That’s what this is all about?” Alexandrovic laughed. “You wanted to see me about Karadjic and his Gypsy fortune-teller? What Washington idiot sent you on this mission? So what if the great Karadjic is superstitious – he likes to get his fortune told. If I recall correctly, Nancy Reagan consulted with a fortune-teller.”
“You’re telling me it’s common knowledge Karadjic consults a fortune-teller?”
Alexandrovic laughed. “No, not common knowledge. No general wants people to think he’s sharing secret battle plans with an ignorant Gypsy woman who rides around in a horsedrawn wagon. Only a few members of the senior command know about this. Whatever the woman tells him seems to make him happy. It’s harmless, Olga. Nothing to get excited about.”
“Tell me when he meets with the fortune-teller,” Olga said.
“Before he goes into action,” Alexandrovic quickly responded. “You know, before a battle, or . . ..” He stopped. “Oh, now I understand. You think there’s a connection.”
“I want to talk with the Gypsy woman. Can you make it happen?”
Alexandrovic stared at her. “What a shame!” he said. “That long, blond hair, those green eyes, those breasts bulging like cantaloupes beneath your sweater.” He cupped his hands under his chest. “Someone should be making love to you. Instead, you’re risking your life for madmen.” He sighed.
Olga let her anger get the best of her. “Thank you for the inventory of my physical attributes. But don’t worry about whether or not I’m getting laid. And get it out of your head once and for all that you’ll ever have a chance. This is a purely business relationship.”
“All right, Miss Olga. Be in Dusan Park tomorrow at sunset. If I can arrange it, the Gypsy woman will be there. Don’t approach her. She’ll act like she’s peddling something and will come to you.”
“How will I know which Gypsy woman she’ll be? That park’s always full of Gypsies hawking their goods or begging and stealing.”
Alexandrovic rose from his chair and walked across the room. Turning back to Olga, he said, “She’ll ask if you want to look at some jewelry. You say yes. Her name’s Miriana. Miriana Georgadoff. Hot little number, that Gypsy girl.” He paused and stared at Olga’s breasts.
“Concentrate, General.”
Alexandrovic smiled at Olga. “Tie a blue scarf around your neck. Oh, by the way, I’ll tell the woman you’ve agreed to give her a thousand dollars.”
Alexandrovic left the room, laughing.
“Mr. Danforth, Cooney here in the Ops Center. There’s coded message traffic for you.”
“Where’s it from, Cooney?”
“Zone thirty-two. Field Agent Bessie.”
“Be right down.”
Bob rushed out of his office and quick-walked down the hall to the elevator. Bessie – Olga Madanovic’s code-name – was one of the agents he’d personally recruited. That gal’s got bigger
cajones
than most men, Bob thought. But the thought didn’t make him worry any less about her safety.
He took the stairs down to the Cryptography Operations Center, punched his personal access code into the keypad by the center’s entrance, and entered the long narrow room. An assortment of cryptographic machinery occupied tables on both sides. Bob shivered at the cool temperature in the room. A thirtyish, pimply-faced-man with spiked blond hair looked up from his chair when Bob opened the door.
“Hey, Cooney.” Bob said.
“Good to see you, Mr. Danforth.”
“How do you stand it?’ Bob asked, staring at the man’s short-sleeve shirt. You could hang meat in here.”
Cooney patted the machine in front of him and said, “Gotta take care of my babies. Can’t have them overheating.” Cooney then reached for a sheet of paper on the table next to him. “I’ve got your message decoded.” He handed the paper to Bob.
Bob scanned it, then went over it again.
Gypsy fortune-teller to K. stop. Relationship known to only a few in military hierarchy. stop. Connection between K meeting with Gypsy and Serb military campaign. stop. Meeting set with Gypsy sunset tomorrow. stop. Bessie. End Message.
Raymond Gallegos breezed into Bob’s office. “What’s up, Bob?”
Bob pointed at a carafe sitting in the middle of the table. “Help yourself to some coffee. We’ll wait ‘til the others get here.”
Tanya and Frank arrived together just when Raymond settled into a chair. “We got information on the Gypsy woman Stein picked out in the photographs,” Bob told them. “She
is
a fortune-teller. Bessie meets with her at sunset tomorrow – about noon our time. Let’s make some assumptions based on what we know and develop contingency plans.”
“This fortune-teller business is intriguing,” Frank said. “Stein told us each time Karadjic met with the Gypsy a Serb military action followed within a week. I checked it out. She’s right.”
“And Bessie confirmed that,” Bob added.
Frank paused, got up from his chair and walked over to the window. Hands in his pants’ pockets, he rocked back and forth, heel to toe to heel.
“Let’s assume Karadjic uses this fortune-teller like the ancient Greeks used the Oracle at Delphi,” Frank said. “He asks her questions about the timing of major offenses; schedules attacks based on her answers. Let’s also assume he’s not crazy enough to give her details about his plans. How can these assumptions help us?”
As Tanya and Raymond mulled over Frank’s question, Bob sat back and waited. They worked best when they brainstormed without interruptions from him.
“We don’t want Karadjic dead,” Tanya said after a thirty-second pause. “There would just be another psychopath in the wings waiting for his chance to take over. But we have to make an example of the general. And interrogate him.”
“So?” Raymond asked. “What do you have in mind?”
Tanya massaged her forehead. “I think we need to expose the bastard.”
“And how the hell are we going to do that?” Raymond asked.
“Hold on,” said Bob. “Maybe we can do more than expose him.” He chewed on his lower lip and steepled his hands in front of his face. What he was about to propose would be difficult to execute. “Maybe we can use the fortune-teller to put him in the hands of the War Crimes Tribunal at The Hague. Karadjic on trial would be a perfect way to show the world what sorts of people make up the Serb leadership.”
“Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself?” Raymond said. “The last I knew, Karadjic was safe and sound in Yugoslavia.”
Bob put his hands flat on the table and leaned forward. “We’re just going to have to kidnap General Karadjic and deliver him to The Hague.”
Jack Cole gaped at Bob Danforth. “Let me get this straight. You want to snatch Karadjic. Then, you want to mount a massive information campaign against the Serb leadership based on testimony you
think
Karadjic will give. This is supposed to embarrass the Serb hierarchy and dissolve international support for the Serbs. You want this campaign coordinated among the Pentagon, the State Department, Congress, and the White House over here, and among NATO, the European Union, The Hague, and God knows who else overseas. All to convict one lousy Serb general. Does that about summarize what came out of days and days of meetings with your resident group of geniuses?”
Bob smiled and nodded. “That was a damn good summation.”
“Why don’t we just send in a Special Forces team and blow the sonofabitch away?” Jack shouted.
Bob smirked and said, “I can’t believe you’d even suggest such a thing. You know the answer to that, Jack.”
Jack caught the look on Bob’s face and groaned. “Yeah, I know the answer to that. We’d be violating U.S. and international law. Demonstrations would start up outside every one of our embassies. Some other cowboy would replace Karadjic – maybe someone worse than him. And the ethnic cleansing would just keep on happening. Does that about cover it?”
Bob sighed and dipped his head.
“How do you propose grabbing him?” Jack asked.
Bob looked at his watch. “I’ll give you my answer in three hours, after our agent in Belgrade reports in.”