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."
Chapter 33
Jessica held both hands high in the air and closed her eyes, letting the deep rhythmic beat pulse through her body. She could still see the lights flashing in sync with the music through her eyelids. The sensation left her excited and slightly dizzy, so she opened them to the same scene. A cloud of synthetic smoke enveloped the dance floor, temporarily adding another layer of anonymity to the darkened, frenetic environment.
She had been dancing in the club for nearly three hours and could keep going all night. She loved the energy, the people, and the free abandon of writhing shoulder to shoulder with hundreds of strangers. She was in her element among the hip, chic crowd at Angels, by far her favorite club off Serrano Square. The music switched between house and techno, never stopping, and she only took the occasional break for a quick drink. As the music shifted speeds, she took this as her cue to take another break and made her way to the sleek bar.
Set toward the back of the club, a layer of low tables and plush chairs shielded the packed cocktail area from the thronging mass of revelers jammed onto the dance floor. She broke out of the chaos and walked confidently through the maze of tables, completely aware of the attention she attracted leaving the relative safety of the pack. Her hypnotic dancing and apparent self-absorbed demeanor on the dance floor kept all but the most persistent or drunk men from bothering her. The bar area was a different story. Most of the club sharks operated in these waters, and despite the fact that she didn't mingle or flirt while refueling with a quick drink, few of them could resist her presence.
She wore a black sleeveless cocktail dress snugged tightly against her athletic body, accentuating her sculpted arms and legs, which gave her an advantage over the endless ocean of gorgeous women in the club. Jessica's daily regimen of running, calisthenics and classroom physical training gave her an unmatched physique among the typical nightclub crowd that dieted and rode machines at a gym in order to squeeze into their slinky outfits. Her organic level of fitness turned heads everywhere, male and female.
She could sense that the shark population had grown around the bar, so she didn't plan to linger for very long. She ordered a shot of high end tequila, which was delivered promptly, compliments of someone watching her at the bar. She downed the shot, skipping the salt and lime ritual, and winced slightly as the tequila burned going down. She felt the warmth radiate outward, pleasantly drifting and buzzing her head. A glass of water accompanied the shot, and she squeezed the lime into the water, gulping half of it down before heading back onto the dance floor. She never glanced around to see which one of her many admirers was vying for a moment of eye contact in return for the shot of tequila.
As she melted back into the crowd of dancers, she picked up the electronic dance beat and started to move, keeping an eye on the bar area. She wouldn't be surprised if a few of the sharks tried to follow her out into the fray, but she was pretty sure that she would be safe for now. 3:30 was still early for Buenos Aires, and the heavy drinking hadn't really started. With Daniel, they never stayed out much later than two in the morning, so she had limited experience in the pre-dawn party hours. She had stayed out past dawn the night before and had found the experience distasteful. She loved to party, but hated fighting off the desperate men during the dreaded final hour around last call. Tonight, she would dance for another half hour and suddenly disappear.
Fifty minutes later, she stole a glance at her watch and decided to walk out. It was later than she had expected, but still too early for Daniel to call. She didn’t expect to hear from him until the operation had ended, but remained hopeful that he might sneak in a call to her. Pushing her way through the dense crowd, she broke through near the entrance. VIP booths lined the windowless wall to the left of the club's vestibule, packed with an exclusive-looking crowd. She ignored the blatant stares and a purposeful nod from a man surrounded by champagne bottles and supermodel-beautiful women.
The humid, slightly polluted warm air was a welcome break from the stale, sweaty air inside, but the respite was short lived. The Buenos Aires air was immediately ruined by dozens of smokers, either standing in the endless line snaking down the sidewalk, or huddled in a small designated smoking area on the other side of the entrance. Buenos Aires had gone smoke free in public buildings the year before, which created a gauntlet of smokers outside of most buildings, day or night.