Page 29 of Tom Clancy Line of Sight
KOBARID, SLOVENIA
Detective Oblak watched the vehicles pull out of the police station parking lot from his private office on the second floor. Struna, Ryan, and his attorney would arrive in Ljubljana in a little more than two hours.
Oblak had a lot on his mind tonight, and not all of it good. He had Jack Ryan’s contact information, and also his address in Sarajevo.
The detective picked up his encrypted cell phone and dialed the number of a colleague working in the Bosnian Intelligence-Security Agency (OSA-OBA).
“Dragan Kolak here.”
“Dragan, it’s Valter Oblak.”
“Yes, of course. I didn’t recognize the number.”
“My apologies. A new phone. A precaution.”
“I understand. But it’s rather late for a call, isn’t it?”
“A man is arriving in Sarajevo tomorrow. I thought you might be interested in him.”
“If you’re calling, Valter, you know I’m interested.”
16
SARAJEVO, BOSNIA AND HERZEGOVINA
Ambassador Topal sat in the deputy director general’s office, flipping through the documents and photographs in the intelligence folder on the table. Topal was homing in on the deputy’s anxious tone of voice more than the content of his briefing, the substance of which he was already familiar with from his own sources.
The deputy director general of Bosnia’s OSA-OBA was a competent but unimaginative political appointment in an underfunded intelligence agency tasked with the internal and external security of perhaps the most dysfunctional country in the heart of Europe. The Bosnian government itself seemed incapable of imagination or vision; why should this poor fellow be expected to exceed the limits of his political masters?
Topal understood the man’s anxiety, however. In fact, he expected it, partly owing to the deputy director’s own traumatic experience during the Yugoslav wars. As a youngerMuslim man, he’d been trapped in the crossfire of the siege of Mostar, surrounded on both sides by Serb and Croat armies relentlessly pummeling the historic city with mortar and artillery fire. The man had every right to be nervous this morning, and his calling Topal into this private briefing was a good sign.
“As you can see, social media activity by the extremists has exploded in the last few days. Everybody is accusing everybody else of perpetrating this vile act,” the deputy said. “But according to the police transcription of the two surviving witnesses, it was clearly an act of war by the Serb militia.”
Topal read the last statement again out loud: “‘Croatia for Croats, Bosnia for Serbs.’” He nodded grimly. “Any other evidence?”
“Turn to the next page. See the artist’s rendering? Both girls confirmed that this was the shoulder patch on each of the uniforms of the men who raped them.”
Topal turned the page. He recognized it immediately as both the national symbol of Serbia and the unit insignia of the infamous White Eagles, one of the most vicious of the many paramilitary units that fought in the genocidal Yugoslav wars. This particular unit included Orthodox Serb militia, armed, trained, and directed by the Serbian government to carry out its policies of ethnic cleansing in an attempt to create a pure Greater Serbia devoid of Catholics and Muslims. The White Eagles were forcibly disbanded after the war and some of the leaders tried for war crimes. The news that they had reassembled caused enormous concern among the other ethnic groups, who were now reconstituting their own militias in response.
“And if that wasn’t enough evidence,” the deputy said, “there’s this.” He slapped an ace of spades playing card in front of Topal.
The Turk picked it up and turned it over, revealing the same White Eagles logo.
“A death card,” Topal said. He shook his head grimly. “This is bad news.” He set the hateful thing back down on the table. “I’m surprised your government allowed this information to get out.”
“Believe me, we tried to keep a lid on it. The police reports were sealed and the officers sworn to secrecy against their formal protests.”
“Perhaps they leaked it.”
“No. It was the Serb criminals themselves who took credit for it on Facebook and Twitter.”
“Then you must be hunting them down.”
“We are searching high and low, in cooperation with the Ministries of Security and the Interior, of course. But so far, we haven’t been able to find them.”
“What about tracing them through their social media?”
“Dummy accounts, untraceable e-mail addresses—these guys know what they’re doing, or they have help from someone who does.”
