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It was a festive, joyous gathering, judging by the laughter and wide smiles. Heaping plates of steaming food and ice buckets full of beer and champagne were shuttled from the stucco two-story house across from the dining structure to the guests by servers in dark slacks, silk vests, and red bow ties.

Brkic lowered his monocular, preparing to give the order.

He paused.

These were Sunni Muslims, like himself, celebrating a wedding. The joining of two families in the presence of God. This was a sacred time, a holy thing, wasn’t it? He had no qualms about shedding the blood ofkafirSerbs and Croats. But this? Wasn’t everything he was planning designed to bless and save these very people?

Several champagne corks popped all at once to cheers and clapping down below, followed by the tinkling of long-stemmed fluted glasses, a reminder to the fervent Chechen that these were secular people for whom Islam was a mere cultural expression with no more meaning than a guide for manners. If they had faith at all, it was weak, and tempered by the pagan culture that surrounded and infected them.

Red Wing was right. This was a hard thing, but necessary. The plan to save his people from the predations of the Christian West must move forward. Tonight, these Muslim people of such little faith would bring glory to Allah in their unwilling martyrdom.

Brkic raised the radio to his mouth, gave the first order, then the second, unleashing the fires of hell.


Ten kilometers away, a small charge of C-4 plastic explosive decimated the unoccupied blue-stripedPOLICIJAvan parked next to a roadside bar.

The two officers on duty that night were inside. This was their regular stop in the middle of the shift, to consume their free meal of flaky beef-stuffedbureks and strong coffee to get them through the rest of the night.

They dashed outside at the sound of the thundering explosion, the catchlight of the wrecked and burning van dancing in their eyes.

The firelight blocked the sight of the two masked White Eagles militiamen in camouflage stepping out of the shadows, but they caught the flash of their suppressed pistols. Both Bosniak cops crashed against the cinder-block walls in a spray of blood from the force of the slugs slamming into their unprotected chests.

They crumpled into a heap where they fell, and White Eagles death cards were shoved into their gaping mouths.


Brkic watched the unfolding mayhem as gunshots sparked inside the dining porch and echoed inside the restaurant. He barely heard the radio confirmation of the police assault above the plaintive screams of the wedding party. Men begging for their lives were shot in the mouth as their women were dragged outside by the hair to suffer the brutal frenzy of unleashed animals.

He checked his watch. Another fifteen minutes would be enough to finish the assault. His men had orders to spare thelives of the women but not the men. They had already cut the one phone landline they could find, and a portable cell-phone jammer in his van would take care of any guest who might try to call for help.

Red Wing would be pleased that his loathsome orders had been carried out tonight.

But soon Red Wing would discover that he wasn’t in charge after all, when his world burned to the ground.

44

NEAR DOLVICI, BOSNIA AND HERZEGOVINA

Aida picked Jack up the next morning at his building. He met her at the curb. She was driving the same Volkswagen T5 Happy Times! tour van they had ridden in yesterday. She greeted him with a smile, obviously glad to see him.

She was as beautiful as he remembered. Maybe more so. It would be well worth the verbal ass-whooping Gerry would be handing him sometime later today for not getting on that plane.

“I’m so glad you decided to come.”

“Me, too,” Jack said, as he climbed into his seat.

Thirty minutes later they were up in the pine-covered hills surrounding Sarajevo and pulling up to the entrance of the refugee center with a banner proclaimingPEACE AND FRIENDSHIPCENTER! WELCOME!in Bosanski, English, and Arabic. It hung from the newly installed cyclone fence that surrounded the refurbished facility. The dated buildings were mostly made of rough-hewn logs and stacked stone, recently repairedwith concrete, and were laid out in orderly fashion on relatively flat, open ground surrounded by trees.

“What was this place?” Jack asked as Aida pulled through the front gate.

“It was a summer camp for the League of Socialist Youth. It was abandoned years ago, after the socialists evaporated. It’s perfect for our needs. Let me show you.”

She parked the van and led Jack into the first log-and-stone building, the medical clinic. Inside, there were examination rooms, a nurses’ station, and doors markedX-RAY,LAB, and the like.

“We renovated the original, adding some basic medical equipment. We can perform routine health, dental, and eye exams, X-rays, and bloodwork.”

“No surgeries?”