Page 101 of Tom Clancy Line of Sight
Two masked policemen in tactical gear stood down by the river where the dirt road ended. The tall one had a Heckler & Koch MP5 submachine gun on a sling. The shorter carried only a pistol on his hip. He pointed to a spot just in front of him, indicating where Aida should park the van.
“This doesn’t look friendly,” Jack said, wishing like hell he had his Glock 19 with him.
“Just scare tactics. No worries.”
Unless these are hitters for the Iron Syndicate.
As Aida slipped the van into park, the tall officer crossed over to Jack’s side and the short one approached Aida’s window.
The other police car pulled up behind the van, blockingtheir escape route, Jack noted, wondering if Aida was thinking about it.
The short cop yanked Aida’s door open and jerked his head, indicating she should get out. The tall cop did the same on Jack’s side and the four of them walked to the back of the van, where the third cop was already standing.
The short cop barked a command and Aida opened the van’s rear doors. He glanced inside. Nothing but two pieces of luggage and a couple cardboard boxes. He ripped them open and found used baby clothes, which he flung out piece by piece like he was searching for something.
Nothing. He tossed the empty boxes back into the van, frustrated.
The short cop turned back to Aida, firing questions at her in Bosanski, starting with her name, which she repeated.
The short cop’s voice got more heated with each one-word answer Aida gave,daorne—yes or no.
Jack kept his eye on the other two cops, and their hands, touching their weapons. Their eyes shifted back and forth between Aida and him. Something was going down.
Finally, the short cop pulled a photograph from his vest pocket and showed it to Aida. He asked,“Da li znaš Tarika Brkica?”Do you know Tarik Brkic?
“Da. On je mehanicar. Ponekad radi za mene.”Yes. He’s a mechanic. He works for me sometimes.
The short cop nodded, satisfied with her answer. He shifted his gaze over to Jack. He asked Aida a question in her language. Aida translated for Jack.
“He wants to know who you are.”
“Tell him I’m nobody.”
“He won’t like that answer. He wants to know your name.”
Jack hesitated. But what choice did he have at his point?
“Jack Ryan.”
The cop’s eyes shifted to his taller partner standing beside Jack. They exchanged a few words. He turned back to Jack and stuck out a gloved palm.“Pasoš.”
“He wants to see your passport, Jack.”
“Yeah, I figured.”
Jack reached for his back pocket. Two pistols snapped up, pointing at his head.
“Hey, fellas. Just doing what the man asked.”
He handed the short cop his passport. The cop flipped it open. Read it. Handed it to the tall cop, who read it, too. He nodded at his short partner and pocketed it.
“I need that back,” Jack said. “It’s private property.”
The short cop told Aida to keep translating. She did.
“He says your name is familiar.”
“It’s a pretty common name where I come from.”
