32. Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter thirty-two
Noble hiked back to Strazarska Kosa and found his rental car burned to the ground.
Captain Zeqiri and his goons must have set the car ablaze shortly after they picked him up, because police and fire crews had already come and gone.
The only thing that remained of the rental was a blackened frame and yellow caution tape fluttering in the wind.
A sign had been taped to the burned-out hulk.
Noble couldn’t read the page, but assumed it was notice saying the wreckage would shortly be towed.
With a curse, Noble kicked the smoldering remains of the automobile. In addition to his wallet with his dummy ID, credit cards and cash, Zeqiri now had the pages from Bill Handley’s slip.
Noble had been in Belgrade less than—he checked his watch—seventy two hours and he’d managed to thoroughly screw up the investigation into Bill and Milena’s disappearance. All because he hadn’t taken Matthew Burke’s suspicions seriously.
It was a mistake and it had nearly cost his life. Burke was a former Delta operator who’d spent nearly fifteen years running covert operations for CIA before going into business for himself. He had experience and good instincts, and Noble should have trusted him.
He raked both hands through his hair with a sigh. No phone. No wallet. No ID. All he had was a pair of handcuffs in his pocket and bruises forming on his belly.
The sun was coming up. The first tinges of pale yellow rimmed the eastern ridgeline and a gentle breeze swept up from the south. Cicadas still buzzed in the long grasses around the plum trees.
He needed to call Burke. Dejan Pavlovi?’s house had a landline.
Noble was tempted to head inside and give Burke an update, but Captain Zeqiri might have tapped the investigator’s phone.
Noble wouldn’t put it past him. The former Albanian military commander knew how to cover his bases and certainly seemed to have a long reach.
Noble turned and started back toward the city.
It was close to noon in Belgrade when he finally reached his private room at the hostel.
By that time, every step felt like iron spikes driven into his heels.
His toes cried out in agony. He lowered himself onto the narrow bed in the cramped space, put his back against the wall and let his eyes slip closed.
Exhaustion pounced on him like a mugger.
He needed to use the courtesy phone in the lobby to call Burke.
He even told himself to get up and get moving, but the long black arm of Morpheus reached out for him, and before Noble even knew what had happened, he was sliding down into a deep sleep.
He woke up with his back still against the wall and his chin on his chest. Every muscle in his body ached.
His head felt like the Tampa Bay Rays entire starting lineup had used it for batting practice.
A grunt escaped. Someone had scrubbed his throat with steel wool.
He desperately needed a jug of cold water, ice packs, and all the aspirin in a Proctor and Gamble warehouse.
He’d settle for water and a bottle of Tylenol.
Rubbing sleep from his eyes, Noble checked his watch. He’d been sitting with his back to the wall in dreamless slumber for nearly seven hours. His stomach let him know, with a loud rattling groan, that it had been far too long since his last meal.
With some difficulty, Noble reached under the bed for his bag.
The slightest movement sent ripples of exquisite pain tracing along his spine and set the razorblades in his skull dancing.
He pulled out a fresh change of clothes, convinced his leg muscles to stand, and shuffled down the hall to the bathroom.
He didn’t even bother to run the shower on hot.
He stood beneath a chilly spray and let the cold trace lines down his body, while he gulped water from the spigot.
Probably a bad idea to drink straight from the municipal source.
Noble seriously doubted a country like Serbia had adequate filtration, but he was thirsty to the point of feeling faint.
He stood in the shower far longer than he should have while the cold eased away the pain.
Then he turned the water off, stepped out and snagged a soggy towel from a hook.
One of the other travelers had left it there to dry.
Noble used it to get most droplets off his naked skin before dressing and letting himself out of the bathroom.
Downstairs, he waved at the teenager working the front desk and stopped at the courtesy phone.
It was an old-fashioned dial tone unit hung on the wall with a yellow wicker basket underneath asking visitors to kindly pay for any calls they made.
A handful of coins lay in the basket. Noble cradled the handset between his shoulder and ear, then actually had to think about the correct way to make an international call on a landline.
Funny the things you forget.
He managed to dig the information from his brain and dialed. It rang a dozen times and then Burke came on the line. “Global Security Solutions, Matthew Burrows speaking. How can I help you today?”
In the world of counter intelligence, cellular phones are considered risky under the best of circumstances.
There’s always a chance that a rival intelligence agency has the number and is listening in on the call.
With landlines, it was all but assumed someone, somewhere, was listening.
Even if it was just the local operator. Which meant Noble had to be careful with his words.
“It’s me. Things haven’t quiet panned out the way we hoped. In fact, local business here is really cut throat.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Burke said. “You okay?”
“Took a bit of verbal punishment in a boardroom yesterday evening. Nearly got crushed. The Captain of the negotiations turned out to be a real hard case.”
“I see.” Burke’s words came out slow as he sorted through Noble’s code. “And what about our friends Bob and Melissa who arrived before you? Have you heard anything from them?”
“Unfortunately, no,” Noble said. “I suspect they met the same hostile reception I did, only they didn’t fair nearly as well.”
There was a long pause and then Burke said, “That’s unfortunate. I had been worried about that very thing. Do you think you have any room to negotiate? Or do we need to bring you home?”
Noble stood there with the phone pressed against his ear.
Burke was giving him the option to bail.
Noble wanted to take it. Captain Zeqiri and his goons meant business.
They’d likely already killed Bill and Milena.
They tried to kill him. It would be wise to walk away, but that didn’t sit well with Noble.
There was still a chance, a small chance, Bill and Milena were alive.
And there was still the question of Zeqiri.
What was the captain up to? Why had they disappeared the ICTY investigator?
Could it be as simple as revenge? What was really going on?
The more Noble thought about it, the more he wanted to get at the truth.
He had no money and no phone, but he had one big advantage. Zeqiri and his men now thought Noble was dead. That gave him leverage.
He said, “No, I’d like to stay awhile and see if I can make some progress.”
“Got a plan?”
“I’ll go back to the hotel and have another talk with the clerk.”
“Fine, but play it safe,” Burke cautioned. “We don’t need any more collateral damage.”
“Speaking of…” Noble switched ears with the phone. “The rental car sort of caught on fire.”
“How does a car sort of catch on fire?”
“It burnt to the ground,” Noble admitted. “Must have been bad wiring or something.”
“Tell me you took the optional insurance.”
“No.” Noble winced. “Didn’t expect problems like that.”
“You’re killing me,” Burke groaned. “Know how much that’s gonna cost me?”
“Your concern for my own safety is touching,” Noble said.
Burke fetched a heavy sigh. “Get a new phone and make sure you check in every twelve hours.”
“Will do.”
“And try not to burn down any more cars.”
“No promises.”