CHAPTER ELEVEN
His escape route out of the United States would have been trying even for someone in excellent health. West Virginia, then Mexico, Spain, and finally Belgrade. But Vitas realized he was in far from excellent shape. His fever would spike, then the chills would start, and then he’d feel the fever again. He stumbled on the tarmac at the small airstrip outside Belgrade. One of the pilots on his private aircraft caught his arm.
Vitas grunted at the man, pulled his arm free, and walked unsteadily toward the square block building that served as the flight center. Got to get some rest, he thought. But first I need to see a doctor. This leg is killing me.He limped into the building and slowly made his way across a cracked tile floor toward the exit door on the opposite side. He had been here before and knew the structure was no more than ten meters across, but the walk to the exit door felt like a journey through a tunnel with no end.
“Artyan! Over here.”
Vitas looked around, trying to find who had called his name. There were only three people in the building, but their faces blurred as though seen through a distorted lens. It wasn’t until Luka, the President’s driver, slapped him on the back that Vitas recognized him.
“What are you doing here, Luka?” Vitas asked. “Some bigwig flying in?”
“No one bigger than you, Artyan. The President sent me to pick you up.”
“How the hell . . .?”
“Our Washington Embassy told us you would be on that plane.” He jerked a thumb toward the Gulf Stream resting on the tarmac. “I’m your welcoming committee.”
“Luka, I never thought I’d be happy to see your ugly face. Where’s your car? You must take me to a doctor.”
“What’s wrong?” Luka asked.
“I’ll have to wait for the doctor to tell me.”
Vitas couldn’t keep up. Luka had to keep stopping to wait for him.
“You look like crap,” Luka said. “Why are you limping?”
“It’s a long story, my friend,” Vitas said, not offering any further explanation.
Luka shrugged.
Vitas followed him through the terminal doors and slid into the front seat of the bulletproof sedan parked at the curb.
“You have a doctor you want to see or will the President’s physician do?”
“Sounds fine.”
Vitas closed his eyes and pressed the side of his face against the car window. The glass cooled his cheek. While they drove along Belgrade’s rutted roads, the only sounds were the thump-thump-thump of the tires.
How do I tell the President I failed? Vitas thought. A spasm of pain suddenly shot into his thigh, and he rubbed the swollen area around the wound, noticing that his pant leg was damp. “That Danforth bitch,” he murmured.
“What was that?” Luka asked, taking his eyes off the road for a moment.
“Nothing!” Vitas said, bringing his hands to his face and rubbing his weary eyes.
“That stink? What is it?” Luka asked, wrinkling his nose.
Vitas ignored the question. That’s one of the reasons he needed to see a doctor. He’d noticed the odor coming from the wounds in his leg for the past three days.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The sun’s upper edge peeked over the eastern hills. Michael got his first real look at one of the results of the Serb government’s ethnic cleansing campaign. Thousands of people spread before him in a valley bisected by the road. Their crying and wailing sounded like thousands of bleating lambs. Gaunt, dirty, and dispirited, possessing only what they could carry, they formed a human river from one end of the valley to the other, waiting to be processed through to an uncertain future in Macedonia.
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EVIL DEEDS
Misterio / SuspensoEvil Deeds is the first in a 4-book series that follows the Danforth family from the kidnapping of their 2-year-old son in Greece in 1971 to present day. The book (and series) is a roller coaster ride of action and suspense. This book, as with all o...
