Page 58 of Tom Clancy Line of Sight
Either way, Trieste was the next stop.
Jack was in trouble, and this was their only shot.
30
SARAJEVO, BOSNIA AND HERZEGOVINA
Jack stared at his hands, silently fuming. He knew he was under observation by the camera unit shielded in a translucent dome in the ceiling of the small interrogation room. No point in giving anybody any ammunition to use against him. He glanced around the room for the umpteenth time, bored out of his mind. A desk, a couple chairs, industrial carpet, acoustical tiles on the walls. Not exactly a torture chamber, unless you counted annoyed frustration as inhumane psychological duress.
What was taking so long? It felt like he’d been in there for hours, but without his iWatch and iPhone, he couldn’t know for sure. They’d been taken from him for security purposes.
The electronic lock clicked and the steel door swung open. Dragan Kolak, stepping past a uniformed guard, carried two cups of steaming coffee in his hands. The guard shut the doorbehind him as Kolak set the coffees down on the table and took the only open seat.
“Black coffee, yes?” Kolak said, not really asking.
“Thanks,” Jack said, not really meaning it. He took a sip. Not bad. Agent Kolak was straight out of central casting for an American cop show: rumpled suit; loose tie; thin, graying hair, badly cut; and cheap leather shoes, slightly scuffed. Only Kolak wasn’t a cop. He introduced himself as an agent of OSA-OBA, the Bosnian version of the CIA.
“Everything check out?” Jack had provided Gerry Hendley’s direct contact information, along with his own passport and wallet containing his international driver’s permit, an ATM card, two credit cards, and about a hundred dollars in Bosnian convertible marks. He knew Kolak had been running background checks since he’d last seen him.
“Your passport appears up-to-date and valid. So let’s get down to business, Mr. Ryan.” He blinked his overly large, sad eyes.
“The sooner, the better. I hadn’t planned on spending my vacation in the basement of a security facility.”
“Then perhaps you shouldn’t have attacked my agent.”
“He took the first swing.”
“If my other agent hadn’t been there, I wonder what else you would have done to poor Višca?”
“I was just defending myself.”
“Quite skillfully, for a...” Kolak snapped his fingers, trying to prompt his memory. “Ah, yes, a ‘financial analyst.’”
“You obviously believe me or you would’ve had me arrested—or whatever else your agency does with criminals.”
“I believe what my agents reported—and lucky for you,they’re honest. But if I were you, I’d stay away from Agent Višca. He wants to return the favor of the broken nose.”
“Tell him I’m sorry about that. And the shirt.”
“So you came here for vacation? Tourism?”
“Yes.”
“And what led you to pick Sarajevo as your destination? It’s not exactly high on most Americans’ lists of places to visit.”
“I’m a student of history. Always wanted to come here. As your guys probably know, I was just visiting the assassination museum.”
“We have a lot of history here, for sure, Mr. Ryan. And not all of it pleasant, as you must know.”
“Very complicated, too.”
“Just like my job here.” Kolak took his first sip of coffee. “Your passport says you were just in Slovenia.”
“I didn’t stamp it myself, I promise.”
“Another history tour?”
“Business.”
