DAY 7
“One of the things you may not know is that my family has a summer villa just up the road.”
“This close to a military base?”
“The villa was built decades earlier,” she replied. “It’s the base that ruined my view.”
Heather was in a jeep with Marija. For the first time in a week, her life was not in imminent danger. Marija had negotiated her relative freedom. She could finally see her surroundings fully. The rebel base was on top of a large plateau with the Dinaric Alps on one side and a single road on the other. It was very much a fortress, with strategic control over two mountain passes and able to withstand a long siege.
“We came here every summer,” she continued. “Sometimes we came in winter to ski.”
The stone structure loomed into a view. It was a massive building at the edge of the cliff. Heather liked the thought of a warm room inside.
“Do you bring all your prisoners here?”
“Only the ones who I need to. I saw the risk that one or more of my men might take their chances with you. You wouldn’t be much use to me dead.”
The inside of the villa was suitably opulent, albeit empty.
“Home sweet home. The one place I can still call that.”
Heather walked to the main wall where there was a life-size portrait of a man with his two daughters. The man held them protectively and the older daughter had her arm around her sister.
“Our official portrait from when my father became President. It isn’t protocol to have family members in the portrait, but he was adamant about it.”
“I’m sorry for what happened to him.”
“You’re the first person to say that to me in a long time, Heather Franklin.”
Perhaps if she peeled back all those layers of camo, Heather felt that the woman who ordered the assassination of several EU diplomats might disappear, leaving behind a grieving daughter.
* *
“We have just one demand. Free General Savic. He does not deserve to be imprisoned.”
“The war criminal?”
“Your western media would like to think so, but no. The General is a good man who fought for the rights of his people.”
“Do you know what he has been accused of at The Hague tribunal last month?”
“All lies,” declared Marija. “Lies invented by Crispin Salinger and peddled by his pet media houses.”
Heather shook her head derisively.
“I’ll tell you what I told Jigsaw earlier. We don’t negotiate with terrorists. It’s Uncle Sam’s party line. Releasing someone who has been accused of what Zeljko Savic has been… there is no chance of that, no matter how many hostages you take.”
“I’ll worry about that. You record the statement with our one demand. An exchange – you for the General.”
Heather had another snarky remark cued up, but restrained herself. She could see the mention of this man had touched a nerve inside Marija.
“All right. I’ll do it. I just want you to know it has no chance of working.”
Marija nodded. She understood, even if she did not acknowledge it.
* *
“I’ve just emailed the video to a newspaper in Belgrade. It should be all over the world by the time we wake up.”
Marija poured out two glasses of red wine. The abandoned mansion had a well-stocked cellar. A remnant of better times.
Heather took a sip and surveyed Marija over the rim of her glass. Still in military gear with a holstered gun, Up close, she looked so… normal. Like a woman she might bump into jogging in Central Park or at the gym of her Upper East Side apartment building. Even the steely look in her eyes did not indicate she could be involved in a military plane being downed a few months earlier.
“Don’t enjoy yourself too much. You’re still my hostage.”
“Do you usually wine and dine your hostages?”
“Not always,” chuckled Marija. “But I made an exception for you. You’re not just another hostage, Heather Franklin.”
“And why is that?” asked Heather, leaning forward curiously. “What do you want from me?”
“To talk to someone else for a change.”
“So you brought me here to have someone to talk to?”
“I love Anja with all my heart, but she is no longer the sister I grew up with. The soldiers are loyal and the refugees, grateful, but not exactly great at conversation. Dr Salinger is busy all the time.”
“You do know there are easier ways to get a friend to chat with than ambush, murder and abduction. Perhaps try Tinder first next time. Or OkCupid if you’re desperate.”
Marija laughed so hard she almost dropped her drink.
“Let’s try something. Humour me, will you?”
Heather nodded in agreement.
“Close your eyes. Think of this house, this room, and me. Forget about how you got here, just be in the moment.”
“Easier said than done,” Heather muttered while her eyes remained closed.
“In this moment there is no war, no refugee crisis, no rebel army. We are two women sitting in a room overlooking a gorgeous view with a glass of wine each.”
Heather did her best. As instructed, she strenuously avoided the elephant in the room. Her breathing slowed and her head fell back.
In that moment, she felt wet lips pressed to her own and opened her eyes. Marija loomed over her, her large eyes trembling in the light and her lips waiting for an answer before making contact again.
“You could have just asked…”
* *
DAY 8
Heather was up first, admiring the scenery outside her window. The first rays of the sun painted the mountain range bronze. The very peaks were snow-capped, followed by lush, viridian forests down the slopes.
In another universe, maybe Heather had met Marija under different circumstances. Maybe her firm was contracted by the US government to help frame a treaty with Serbia. Maybe the sparks between her and Marija were too much to ignore, and Marija whisked her away to her summer villa for a whirlwind weekend.
Cigarette in hand, she was still ruminating when she felt a pair of arms clasp her from behind. She felt hot breathing on her left earlobe before she heard the words.
“You keep making me cum like that or else I’ll send you back to the camp and let my sister and my men know it’s open season on you.”
Heather chuckled as she took a long pull. Tendrils of warmth reached through the crisp mountain air. As far as the eye could see, green forests stretched on, flanked by mountain ranges on either side.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” said Marija. “Now picture all those trees cut down and all the land covered in fracking rigs. That’s what Crispin Salinger wants.”
“That’s what I was sent here to ensure he is getting.”
“Enough about that greedy fucker. Come back to bed, Heather.”
Heather turned to see her walk back to the bed. Her ass swayed from side to side with every step of the way. Her ass was taut and firm, like the rest of her. She turned around and sat on the edge of the bed. Her legs raised and parted, displaying her glistening wetness. Two of her fingers went south and gently toyed with her protruding clit while she beckoned Heather over with the other.
“Do you need an invitation, Heather Franklin?”
She stuck the index and middle fingers of her left hand out. Heather saw them glistening with her liquids. She walked to the bed and took them in her mouth. Her captor’s taste and smell were intoxicating, like a drug more potent than any known to man.
“That’s it,” said Marija, moving her fingers in and out of Heather’s mouth.
Heather closed her eyes and let her senses focus on the taste and smell. She licked the fingers from tip to knuckle and back again.
Marija smiled and drew her head to her breast. Her nipple stuck out invitingly for Heather. A pale pink areola atop her alabaster pale skin. Heather obliged by locking her lips around the nipple and sucking hard. Simultaneously, her free hand found the other nipple and twisted it hard. The unexpected sensation elicited a yelp of surprise followed by a low moan of pleasure.
Heather interchanged her hands and mouth like a pro, giving both nipples equal time and pleasure. In the meantime, Marija’s fingers had returned to her pussy and gathered enough moisture for another taste. Without warning, she yanked Heather’s head back by the hair and fed her her soaked fingers once again.
“You’re enjoying yourself far too much for a prisoner of war.”
Heather chuckled as best she could with the fingers in her mouth.
“In case you’re wondering, there is a lot more where this came from down there.”
Saying this, she lowered Heather’s head between her legs and spasmed with pleasure the first time her tongue made contact.
* *
DAY 14
“Did you hear back from your negotiator?”
“They have still not agreed to free General Savic.”
Heather sympathised with her plight. She wrapped her arm around Marija’s naked shoulder and buried her face in her neck.
“At least you tried.”
“It’s not over yet.”
Heather kissed her collarbone and licked a line up to her ear. She groaned, but looked steadfastly ahead.
“He served with my father many years ago. The two of them fought shoulder to shoulder in Bosnia in the nineties. My father left the army and joined politics and he stayed and rose through the ranks. There was never a time they did not keep in touch. I played with him when I was a child. I mourned with him when his wife died. He is family to me, as much as Anja is. As much as my father was.”
Heather kissed her on the cheek and got up. Marija needed to be left alone for a while.
* *
DAY 25
Marija led Heather out to the jeep. The atmosphere in the rebel camp was different. Most soldiers averted Heather’s gaze as she walked past. They knew she was off-limits.
The tent city was not nearly equipped for the coming winter. Soldiers tried their best to consolidate the tents and fortify them with bricks and wood. Already, a chill had taken hold of the plateau with gusts of wind rippling through the tents frequently.
“I have to discuss the state of our medical supplies with Dr Salinger. You try not to wander off.”
Heather looked around for familiar faces. Not Undertaker and his crew all but ignored her as they marched past. A criss-cross of clothing lines went from tent to tent. Mothers tried in vain to fasten the line at either end, their efforts frequently undone by the wind. Clean clothes were at a premium among the squalor.
“Well. Well. Look who’s all alone and vulnerable once again.”
Heather sighed. The face with the familiar scars sidled up to her.
“I’ve missed you as well, Jigsaw.”
“Funny,” she remarked. “I like that about you Americans. I suppose my sister does too.”
“Shouldn’t you be out scaring kids into cleaning their rooms? I’m sure somewhere mothers tell their children about you.”
“Marija has done this before. I’ll give it a week before she’s bored with you and kicks you out of the house. Then I’ll finally be able to finish what we started that day.”
To emphasize her point, Anja took out her gun and placed it against Heather’s chin.
“I don’t mean to tell you how to use that thing, but the safety is still on,” Heather said with an eye-roll. “If you are going to threaten my life, you can at least be competent in it.”
“I’m going to enjoy your wisecracks one last time before I kill you.”
She leaned forward until her scars were less than an inch from Heather’s face. Her face was a portrait of pain, but her eyes blazed with rage.
“Anja, enough!”
She took a couple of steps back. Marija stood a few feet away with her arms crossed.
“Did you get a response from your contact?”
“Yes, but you’re not going to like it,” said Anja. “They’re offering four soldiers and a student activist who was caught in the protests.”
“That’s it? That’s all we get for a prisoner exchange for the American?”
“Hey! You got them to the table,” chimed in Heather. “That’s a start. Now keep the dialogue open. Keep negotiating and you might even get your General.”
“For your sake,” said Anja. “You had better hope we do.”
* *
DAY 40
Marija lay back and stared up at the ceiling. Her legs remained loosely wrapped around Heather’s neck as her breasts rose and fell with her breathing. Her torso was covered in a sheen of sweat from Heather’s recent efforts.
“We should have heard something from them by now.”
“It’s a waiting game. A staring contest and they’re hoping you will blink first.”
The offer had increased to include a politician who supported the former President, but there was no indication the General would ever be free.
Heather pulled herself up and opened the bedside drawer. There was a whole carton of cigarettes. She took out one and took a long drag.
“I’ve spoken to the UN negotiator and confirmed that I am unharmed and well-fed. I’ve also told them that I would remain so if they complied with your demands.”
“You haven’t asked to talk to anyone since you arrived here? No family or significant others?”
“I’ve already told you, I don’t have any family worth a damn left. As for relationships, I broke up with my girlfriend a month before coming here. She isn’t exactly pining by the phone waiting for me to call.”
“You have no one who misses you, Heather?” Marija asked curiously.
“If you shoot me right now and send my body back to my employers, all I can expect is a stuffy funeral and a few headlines. The way I’ve lived and the things I’ve done – no one will mourn for me. No one will cry when I die.”
Marija shook her head and rose from the bed. Her raven black hair fell in cascades around her head. She walked over to the side Heather was sitting on and put a palm on her shoulder.
“Is that why you tempt fate with my sister? You put yourself in front of her gun hoping she will pull the trigger.”
“I can’t say it would be a tragedy. In the larger scheme of things, it might even be a net benefit for the world.”
Marija bowed her head and pressed her lips to Heather’s.
* *
DAY 45
“You were a lawyer?”
“A damn good one at that. I was at Erskine, Knight and De Vries. They’re the best international law firm in Europe and I was the daughter of a head of state and at the top of my class at Oxford. It was a win-win if there ever was one. I spent many years after law school living in a swanky townhouse in the most upscale part of London. I helped countries negotiate treaties and corporations negotiate trade deals. I took human rights cases, even arguing alongside Amal Clooney once.”
“Sounds like a good life.”
Heather refilled their glasses of wine. Marija had her arm draped around her captive. She took a sip from her glass and went on.
“Anja stayed with me too. She was going to culinary school to be a chef.”
“I vaguely remember her mentioning it before threatening to mutilate me,” said Heather. “How did she go from port wine reductions to… whatever she does now?”
Marija chuckled and planted a soft kiss on Heather’s hair.
“The same way I went from preparing opening arguments at The Hague to having a UN resolution declaring me a global terrorist.”
“One man’s hero is another man’s terrorist.”
They clinked their glasses and locked lips. They were familiar with each other now, the contours of their mouths and the feel of each other’s tongue.
“The day of the actual coup, Aleksander betrayed us. He led a squadron of armed men to the palace to capture Dad. I barely escaped, but they found Anja. She begged me to leave her and run while she held them off… and I did. I did because she didn’t want me to see what his men were going to do to her.”
Heather closed her eyes and briefly remembered the hatred she had seen when Anja first saw Mr Aleksander in the car. By all accounts, it was well earned.
“Others may be scared of her, but she’s terrified of them. Terrified that they might see past the fearful exterior and see the real her. The her that cried and begged Aleksander’s men to stop that night. Only they didn’t. Over and over again.”
* *
DAY 60
“Looks like the news cycle has well and truly moved on. Now all that remains are back-channel negotiations with the State Department as to who can be exchanged for me.”
Heather came to this conclusion after seeing only scant mentions of her predicament on the internet. Much to her chagrin, her kidnapping was now relegated to the bottom of the sixth page of the New York Times website, below a mundane story about a woman from Florida who had drugged her husband and his mistress and fed them to alligators, and above an overloaded ferry that had capsized while crossing the Limpopo River in Botswana, drowning all on board.
Heather knew she was not newsworthy any more. She was now on par with poor people dying in poor countries and they never made the front page.
The look on Marija’s face indicated they were in no immediate danger of releasing the General either.
“You must have a plan B,” Heather insisted. “Anyone else. Just tell me and I’ll make the video.”
“The General saved my father from Bosnian soldiers in Srebrenica. I’m not abandoning him. There must be a way.”
“I hate to interrupt you lovers, but we have more pressing problems.”
Heather and Marija turned around to see Anja standing a few feet behind them. Not Undertaker stood beside her.
“We’re running low on supplies.”
“What supplies?”
“Everything. Weapons. Ammunition. Food. Medicine. Blankets. In case you have been too busy making love to notice, it’s almost winter. In a few weeks, this place will be covered in snow.”
“How much do we have?”
“Not nearly enough, sestra. Our black market contact says it’s getting harder and harder to smuggle the goods to our rendezvous. Too much heat.”
“I’ll think of something.”
* *
DAY 68
“I still can’t believe you’re doing this.”
Anja looked at Marija with a look of exasperation.
“You said it yourself, we don’t have supplies to last the winter.”
“I meant looking for a new smuggling route or a new black market contact. Not this. This is insane.”
“I never thought the day would come when you, my sister, would say I was insane,” said Marija. “It’s like I said. I was not getting any better smuggling routes. The only other way is this.”
Their jeep was on a winding mountain road that snaked its way through a narrow pass. According to the contacts Marija still had in the military, a supply convoy would be coming through that path towards the joint base with the Serbian Army held with the NATO peacekeeping forces.
“That convoy will be crawling with soldiers. Not just unskilled guards from Aleksander’s private security, but actual soldiers with actual training and much better arms. There’s no way our men could take them on.”
Marija closed her eyes and looked deep in thought. Underneath her black hair was a razor-sharp mind which was currently busy calculating their odds. The more she thought about it, the more her sister made sense. Her men, for all their courage and loyalty, were hopelessly outmatched.
But did they have a choice?
“If I may…” Heather began, earning a glare from the scarred woman.
“Remind me again, why did we get your girlfriend here? She’d look more in place in a department store than in combat.”
“I’ll have you know that negotiating Black Friday at Macy’s is no less than combat,” Heather replied. “I have an idea how we can persuade the soldiers to hand their supplies over without a shot being fired.”
Both sisters turned to look at her with incredulous disbelief.
“If this is another wisecrack, I swear to Saint Sava I will throw you off the cliff.”
“I suppose killing me is the easy answer to all your problems, Jigsaw, but no. This might actually work. It has a better chance than the certain doom you are about to lead your troops into.”
“Go on,” said Marija.
“You see, I have something far more powerful than any gun or missile or armour.”
“And what is that?”
“I have an American passport.”
* *
The lead truck of the convoy had to be on guard. After the incident with Mr Aleksander, no one was taking any more risks. The convoy was armed to the teeth to repel any attempts by the rebels to attack it. The terrain made it difficult for a lot of supplies to be airlifted in. Thus, the majority of the supplies would have to come by road.
Thankfully, the truck was equipped with ground-penetrating radar to keep scanning the road ahead for IEDs. A few miles back, the radar had picked up something and the explosives specialists had stopped the convoy for an hour while they dug up rocks and eventually gave the green signal. No one was going to take any chances.
There were two officers in the back of the truck continuously watching the live feed from the radar. Any moment, they felt, another explosive device would come to view. They were surprised when the truck came to a halt, double-checking their screens if anything suspicious had popped up.
“There’s a woman standing in the middle of the road.”
The driver and the soldier beside him exchanged glances. It was almost certainly a trap. They scanned their surroundings, expecting to see machine guns pointing at them from behind the rocks.
They checked and re-checked, before making sure they were not in immediate danger.
“Who is she?”
The question hung over them, but neither knew the answer. A pale woman with reddish-brown hair wearing a jacket and trousers stood in the middle of the road gesturing at them to stop.
The driver immediately called it in on his walkie. A few minutes of conversation later, the commanding officer wanted to know what the obstruction was about. The young soldier took the walkie and got out of the truck and began walking towards the woman.
“Stand back. A safe distance back.”
The soldier stopped in his tracks. The woman was an American, judging by her East Coast accent. Trembling, she lowered the zipper of her jacket halfway to show a network of wires.
“Holy – ”
“Don’t come any closer or she will blow me to pieces.”
The soldier, clearly out of his depth, relayed the information back. He remained at a distance when she spoke again.
“Capshaw,” Heather read off the man’s uniform. “I need to talk to your commanding officer. Can you put the walkie on speaker and put it on that surface?”
Private Capshaw proceeded to do the same and Heather started.
“My name is Heather Franklin. I am an American citizen and I was taken hostage by the Serbian Liberation Army. I am unharmed for now and will remain so as long as you do what I say. If not, they have strapped explosives to my body and will not hesitate to use them.”
By now, several soldiers had streamed out and took positions along the road. Their guns were trained on Heather. The leader of the bomb squad eyed the wires and explosives visible under her jacket.
“The demand is simple. You leave all your supplies and take the vehicles to your destination. Not a single person will be harmed if you do. If not, then you will have the blood of an American citizen on your hands. You have to choose now, my life or your supplies.”
* *