“Me? I’m on Elysium. What could possibly happen to me?”
Minutes after touching down in Nikola Tesla Airport they were escorted to an ancient Serbian Army FAP 2026 transport truck and a round of quick, professional introductions was made. Eden and his contacts had called ahead and deals were struck. Elements of the Serbian authorities were keen to terminate Dragan Korać’s mercenary business and now they had the pressure of Eden’s contacts in the British Government to push them along.
The ECHO team hurried through the frozen air and climbed into the back of the truck and moments later they were crossing the Sava into the old part of the city.
Following behind them was an original, battered, mustard yellow 1983 Lada Riva driven by one of the soldiers. Korać’s compound was built on the site of a medieval fort in a village eight kilometres southeast of Belgrade, nestled in the wooden hills near Kaluđerica. When they reached the woods Hawke and Reaper would take the Riva into Korać’s compound.
Hawke peered out the back of the FAP at the 1.3 litre Lada with more than a dash of scepticism. “Is that really the best they could find?”
“At such short notice, yes.”
He turned to see Captain Jelena Karapandža scowling at him. She was the ranking officer of the small army contingent the local authorities had offered to escort them to Korać’s compound. She was beautiful, with sparkling brown eyes and blonde hair discretely tied up and tucked away beneath her beret, but the Englishman guessed cracking a smile on those red lips would be like climbing K2.
“It’s just that if we have to make a break for it and Korać and his men give chase, they could catch us with a ride-on mower.”
“Then you’d better hope they have very long grass at the compound,” Jelena said with no trace of a smile.
“That’s of great reassurance to me,” Hawke said. “Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome,” she said. “Now, what is all this about? My colonel told me only that we were to take you to the Korać compound at Kaluđerica.”
“Korać is meeting with a South African archaeology looter and diamond smuggler named Dirk Kruger. We think Kruger’s going shopping for some mercs and if you know Korać then you’ll know he only does business face to face.”
“Korać is a very dangerous man,” Jelena said. “Anyone in the army here knows all about him. He was an incompetent army officer who turned to brandy after the war and then after that he degenerated into a ruthless warlord. Not a man to play with. This Kruger I have never heard of, though.”
Hawke shook his head. “Me neither — not until the last few hours anyway. He was contacted by a third party, a Mexican cartel boss called Silvio Mendoza who’s now out of the picture. Now Kruger is looking for some muscle to take on a treasure-hunting expedition. I can’t say much more, sorry.”
She shrugged. “I understand, naturally. We all have our secrets.”
And there it was — the first hint of a smile, but then she turned away to cadge a cigarette off one of her soldiers and Hawke drifted away as they made their way through the southern reaches of Belgrade. It was somewhere here, in this labyrinth of broken-down streets and former Soviet housing projects that he’d almost died all those years ago. It was here where he had gone dark and infiltrated a small band of Serbian radicals and their assorted Mafia cronies.
Beside him, Lea felt her fate looming ahead of her as the truck raced through the busy streets of the Serbian capital. From here, in the safety of the speeding vehicle, she watched the traffic and pedestrians as they flowed through Senjak like blood in one of the city’s most important arteries.
She closed her eyes. She didn’t know what it was, but life was starting to feel heavier these days. It felt like every day she was dragging more and more baggage around behind her and it was just slowing her down and stopping her from getting where she wanted to go. She sighed and opened her eyes again to see a different street, but the same faces and cars… the usual blur her life had become.
Less than half an hour later they left the city behind and entered the wooded hills south of Kaluđerica. They were getting closer to Korać and his hidey-hole now, so Jelena banged on the back of the truck’s cabin and the driver pulled over to the side of the road. Behind them the little Lada Riva followed suit and parked up on a muddy verge.
“This is it then,” Maria said, uncertainty coloring her voice.
Using a pair of powerful army field binoculars they monitored the compound for anything unusual. They saw only the regular comings and goings of a few vehicles and a handful of bored-looking men who were clearly supposed to be on guard duty but seemed to spend most of their time smoking cigarettes and joking.
No sign of Kruger yet.
Hawke watched the scene with care as he pieced together the final parts of his strategy for the operation. It was true, the place reminded him of the location in Zemun where he had almost died, but he shook it off. Memories could only bother you if you dragged them up to the surface. Nevertheless he double-checked his comms signal to Alex back on Elysium.
“You reading me, Agent Nightingale?”
“Gotcha safe and sound, Joe.”
“Good stuff, Alex. We’re going in soon, so I’m signing off.”
“You’re keeping the comms, right?”
“No can do, Alex. If we’re searched and they find earpieces we’re dead on the spot.”
Hawke popped out the earpiece and handed it to Maria. Then he gave Jelena the word and she ordered her soldiers to take up their positions around the compound’s outer perimeter but to keep well back and out of sight.
It was up to Hawke and Reaper now, and they handed over their side-arms before climbing into the Riva and firing the tiny engine up.
“Monique’s hair dryer has more power than this,” Reaper said, casually flicking his tattooed hand toward the engine compartment. “It would be quicker if we got out and pushed it.”
“Our mission is simple, Vincent,” Hawke said. “Get in the compound and infiltrate Korać’s private party. Then we can get close to Kruger, secure the idol and take him out before things get out of control. All we need the hair dryer for is to drive us into the compound.”
“If you say so,” Reaper said, his voice heavy with doubt. He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply as he tossed the match out the window and wound it up against the cold air. “How many did Jelena say were in here?”
“Korać has a regular force of around a dozen or so men here usually, so now Kruger’s here with Van Zyl we’re looking at no more than maybe fifteen, absolute max.”
“Us two versus fifteen?” the Frenchman said with an evaluating nod. “Doesn’t seem fair — on them.”
Hawke smiled but said nothing. Even though he had distrusted him at first, he liked Vincent Reno. He respected the French Foreign Legion but Reno’s work as a mercenary, especially in Fallujah and Sierra Leone had made him wary when he’d first met him. But that was a long time ago — they’d done so much that it felt like forever — and because of all the battles they’d fought together he now trusted him with his life. Whether or not the feeling was mutual was hard to tell. Reno wasn't the kind of man to share his feelings.
They drove along a series of winding lanes, flanked either side by heavy Serbian spruces until eventually turning onto the main approach to the compound. Up ahead they saw the main gates and seconds later two men with rifles swung over their shoulders ambled casually toward them and gave them a hand signal to stop. Something about the way they moved told Hawke they would make pretty slovenly soldiers, and he hoped all of Korać’s men would be the same.
As Hawke gently pressed the brake, a powerful spotlight from the top of the wall over the gates swung around and shone into the Riva, blinding both of them and forcing them to cover their eyes.