Noble Sacrifice in Belgrade

1. Chapter One

Chapter one

Milena Kova? sat in the passenger seat of a rented sedan with her bare feet up on the dash and a notebook computer open on her lap.

At fifty-eight, Milena could still pass for forty.

She took care of herself through a combination of yoga and Pilates.

The same could not be said for her husband Bill.

Long hours at Langley had given Bill a gut along with deep-set wrinkles and a head of gray hair.

Milena frowned at the laptop while she typed, deleting a turn of phrase, exchanging it for something with more punch, something that would capture the reader’s attention.

Outside the car, majestic silver birch, known locally as breza, streaked past the windows.

Summer was in full swing, and Bosnia was a vibrant tapestry of color.

Milena saw none of it. She was too focused.

“You’re missing some amazing scenery,” Bill said from the driver’s seat.

He had one hand on the wheel and the other cradling a thermos of coffee.

A pair of sunglasses rode down his thin nose.

He pushed them back into place with a quick jab from his driving hand before returning his grip to the wheel. The sedan momentarily drifted.

Milena made a non-committal grunt.

“You raking muck?” Bill asked as he navigated a sweeping curve in the mountainous road.

“Always,” Milena said with a smile.

Bill sipped his coffee and settled the thermos on his thigh while he drove. He said, “Why not take a break and be present with me, babe? After all, we came a long way.”

Milena saved her document and closed the laptop. “You’re right.”

“Always,” Bill said.

“Oh, oh! Are you so sure?”

“Always.”

“Uh-huh, smart guy.” Milena reached over to massage the back of his neck. Her fingers threaded into his hair. “What about the time you took that ‘shortcut’ in Egypt. Remember that?”

Bill laughed. “I contend that one wasn’t my fault. I can’t be blamed if Fodor’s gave me bad intel.”

“I still can’t believe you actually wrote them a letter.”

“They have to know they’re giving outdated information to tourists,” Bill said.

“And did they ever write you back, Mr. Secret Agent Man?”

“That’s beyond the point.” Bill grinned. “I did my part.”

“My boy scout.” Milena proceeded to needle him.

“Hey.” Bill shrank away, pressing himself against the driver’s door. “Knock that off. These roads are treacherous. Want to crash us?”

Milena clicked her tongue. “You Americans, and your six lane freeways. I grew up driving these roads. Want me to take over?”

“Your driving terrifies me under the best of circumstances.”

Milena pouted. “I’ve never understood, what’s the difference between a freeway and a highway?”

“Synonyms,” Bill said. “Aren’t you journalists supposed to know the difference?”

“That’s why we have editors.”

“How is Cathy?” Bill asked.

“Impatiently waiting on this one.” Milena tapped the laptop. “I’ve only gotten three emails from her since we left.”

“Only three?” Bill smiled but the smile collapsed when he looked in the rearview. “What’s this guy’s problem?”

An ancient van with a dented bumper and a cracked windscreen was riding his tail.

Milena glanced in the side mirror. “Slow down and let him pass.”

“There’s barely any room—” Bill started to say and then his eyebrows shot up. He let go of the thermos. The container tumbled down into the floorboard. Bill clamped the wheel in both hands. “Hang on!”

Behind them, the driver of the van mashed the gas. The vehicle surged forward, closing the gap with breathtaking quickness. Milena saw the old van suddenly large in the sideview. The little inscription at the bottom told her objects are closer than they appear.

The van appeared huge.

The smell of spilled coffee filled the inside of the rental. All the moisture vanished from Milena’s mouth. She tried to scream but a squeak issued from her lips instead.

The bumper of the van smacked the left corner of Bill and Milena’s rental. It was a textbook pit maneuver. The impact sent the sedan into a sideway swerve that carried them off the road and into the long grass. Tires howled and the engine gave a plaintive noise. Gravel skipped up from the wheels.

For several horrifying seconds, her world was chaos. Sticks and branches swiped at the windshield. Milena reached out with both hands, desperate for something to hang onto.

The rental crunched against a tree with a shuddering boom, on Bill’s side, bringing the terrible carnival ride to a sudden halt. Bill pitched against the door in a bone jarring thump. His head drooped forward and his body slumped against the safety belt.

Milena felt her legs snap against the dash. She heard bone break with a hard wet pop, pain tripping up her legs in crippling waves. Her mouth hinged open and the sound finally escaped. It was a long, low mewling noise, like a cat in heat.

Her right leg hurt worse than the left, by orders of magnitude. Milena reached down to grip it in both hands. Her face went through a series of emotions, starting with shocked surprise and ending with misery. Stabbing bolts raced up both appendages.

“Bill,” she managed to gasp through the hurt. “Bill, baby, are you okay?”

Bill hung against the safety belt making non-sensical noises. The left side of his head was slick with blood.

“Oh, Bill, honey, Bill.

There was a tap on the window.

Click-click-click.

Milena turned and found herself staring down the barrel of a gun.