Black Flagged Redux

Chapter 32





5:25 PM

United Nations Detention Unit

The Hague, Netherlands





Srecko Hadzic stared at his image in the small mirror on the wall of his private cell. He looked like shit. Thick, bruised bags hung under his narrow brown eyes. His eyes were bloodshot and his face looked drained of blood. His stomach growled, adding to the misery and reminding him that his ulcer was acting up again. He hadn't slept or eaten well for nearly three weeks. Ever since his nephew visited with news that the traitor Marko Resja, or whoever he claimed to be, had been discovered in Argentina.

Finding him had been a stroke of pure f*cking luck, but he'd take it. A higher power wanted this to happen, and the fact that that whore Zorana had been discovered at Marko's side proved it. Srecko clearly remembered the day that Marko raised her decapitated head out of the gym bag. He even recalled seeing the nose ring through the thick, blackish blood on the head's battered face. Nobody forgot it, especially the cowards that had recounted the story to the war crimes tribunal in exchange for a reduced sentence or their freedom. He'd deal with all of them eventually. His nephew, Josif, kept track of everyone.

He rubbed his eyes vigorously and ran both of his plump hands through thick silver and black hair. He really needed to try and eat something at dinner, but he'd need to visit the infirmary first to see if they could give him some form of stomach medication. Maybe the purple pill he had seen on television. He caught motion in his peripheral vision and turned to the door. One of the guards had just passed the small window located three quarters of the way up the dark green door. He turned to his desk unit and stared at the computer screen. He had forced himself to postpone checking his email account.

As a designated e-Court, the International Criminal Court (ICC) had mandated that each detainee have a computer in their cell, which was linked to a single computer at The Hague Court. Only Srecko's defense attorney had access to that computer, and the communications were designated as privileged. Still, they were cautious when using the electronic link, as neither of them fully trusted the detention center personnel. Pressure to convict high level members of Milosevic's regime had intensified.

He sat at the desk and activated the monitor. He waited a few moments, and typed in the passwords required to access his mailbox. A new message awaited him, titled "Recent Developments." This might be it. He clicked on the message, which was brief.



"Z in BA again. No M. Proceeding at first opportunity. Will supervise video production on site. J."



Srecko realized his fists were clenched. Zorana was alone in Buenos Aires. He'd prefer to grab them both at the same time, but this would work just fine. He could use Zorana to draw out Resja and dispose of them both…after long, unending torture sessions. He felt better knowing that Josif had flown out to personally handle the entire affair. He still had a few trusted Panthers in Argentina, but nothing compared to the comfort he took in knowing that a loyal blood relative had his best interests at heart, and Josif was as capable as he was loyal. He responded to the email.



"We'll need Z to find M. Proceed with filming, but don't terminate production. Expect to watch first cut shortly."



He deserved to watch her suffer for the hell they had put him through. The gang war between Mirko's "Avengers" and his own Panthers had turned Belgrade into a bloodbath. He'd lived like an outcast, running from one safe house to the next, trying to stay one step ahead of Mirko's assassination teams. He should have spent the time figuring out how to escape Yugoslavia and enjoy what remained of his criminal fortune. Instead, the NATO bombing campaign kicked into full gear, and the threat of NATO ground intervention drove Milosevic to accept the terms of a NATO peace plan.

The plan involved the withdrawal of Yugoslavian forces from Kosovo and the presence of peacekeeping forces along the Kosovo border. Since most of his Belgrade staff had disappeared, either killed or gone into hiding, he was forced to travel to the Kosovo front in an attempt to personally order the withdrawal of his paramilitary forces. He had managed to locate the senior field commander and give the order, but Srecko was intercepted by American commandos on the way back to Belgrade. He never saw Serbia again, and Zorana would pay the worst for his forced exile.

He wanted them to work her over using every form of torture and sexual assault imaginable, but he needed her alive to lure Resja out of hiding. He couldn't wait to watch her suffer. Maybe Josif could smuggle a thumb drive into the prison. He had managed to smuggle more than that over the past few years. If not, he was willing to risk having it sent over the computer. The thought of watching Zorana on film stirred something in his pants that he'd suspected had gone dormant over the past two years. Maybe he would add the little blue pill to his pharmacy request. He could imagine watching much of Zorana's movie debut with his pants down. He pressed "send."