Page 34 of Croatia Collateral

Giva strapped on a shoulder holster and tucked her Glock 19 semi-automatic pistol in place. After pocketing three additional magazines full of bullets, she checked the meager contents of her backpack.

The flashlight, a small toolkit suitable for picking locks, unscrewing hinges, cutting wire or removing surveillance cameras, a miniature can of black spray paint, a small roll of duct tape, and some zip ties didn’t seem like enough of an arsenal to stop World War III.

It would have to be enough.

She shrugged into her black leather jacket, slipped her arms through the straps of the backpack and glanced out the window.

Dax and Fearghas were just leaving the hotel on foot.

If she hurried, she could catch up with them before they entered Old Town.

As if Fearghas knew she was thinking about them, he spoke into her earbuds, “Comm check, Sasha.”

“Sasha, here. On my way down now. Don’t wait on me. I’ll catch up.”

“Roger,” Fearghas said. “Comm check, Peter.”

No response.

“Comm check, Peter,” Fearghas repeated.

Again, nothing.

Not a good sign.

Giva’s lips pressed into a tight line. She hoped Peter wasn’t answering because he was afraid he’d draw attention to himself when trying to follow the German and Italian without being noticed.

Giva left the room and took the elevator down to the second floor and the staircase to the ground level, emerging from one of the side entrances, avoiding the main lobby and other people.

She took off at a quick walk, her hands tucked into her pockets. Straining to catch a glimpse of Dax and Fearghas ahead, she hurried down the street, weaving between pedestrians and people going in the opposite direction to get home.

Not until she was close to Pile Gate did, she finally catch up enough to see them enter Old Town.

Knowing how narrow and twisting the streets were, Giva couldn’t let the two men get too far ahead, or she’d risk losing them in the still-crowded streets.

She entered through the massive gate built in the fifteenth century just in time to see Dax and Fearghas pass between two buildings on the right.

Giva hurried after them, head down, not wanting to draw any attention to herself. All the while, she remained aware of everything around her.

Though night had fallen, Old Town was still alive and bustling with people looking for places to eat or to enjoy a drink with friends.

Dax strode quickly through the streets, not slowing until they neared the Jesuit Stairs.

Giva weaved between people, thankful that the men she was following stood head and shoulders above so many others in the crowd.

When they came to a halt at the bottom of the Jesuit Stairs, Giva stopped a block and a half short of their location and took out her cell phone.

She leaned against a stone pillar and pretended to be interested in her emails and texts. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the young people walking arm in arm, laughing about something...or nothing. Filled with the joy of youth and the world they all shared.

The scene was such a dichotomy of how things were and how they could change so quickly. The teens went on about life with no expectation that their lives could soon be changed or ended, depending on the plans the Nexus Collective had in mind.

Two men appeared wearing black jackets. Large men with broad shoulders and dark hair like those they’d seen on the wall earlier. Because it was dark outside, with only the streetlights shining at every corner, the men weren’t wearing the sunglasses they’d worn earlier that day.

Fearghas spoke softly, “Game on.”

Giva could hear the faint sound of one of the men quoting the challenge, “Fall down seven times.”

Dax’s faint response filtered through Fearghas’s mic, “Stand up eight.”

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