“Did you do this?”
“I must be one hell of an escape artist to go all the way to Minsk and back undetected yesterday.”
“You know what I mean. Did you order it?”
Marija looked at her curiously, trying to get a read as to how she felt.
“No, I didn’t. Not directly, at least. I have loyalists in Belarus. It was most likely one of those groups thinking they were helping me.”
“They didn’t,” said Heather, lighting a cigarette. “This is not playing well. Until now, you still had some hipster sections of the media on your side. With this, every single major world leader worth his or her title has condemned it.”
“They weren’t exactly fans of me before.”
“You lost whatever sympathy you had. The few die-hard environmentalists writing for you will stop. There were civilians in that hall too. A family of six celebrating their twentieth anniversary. Two Dutch college students on an internship. A whole series of innocent collateral damage.”
Marija took a deep breath.
“I’m sorry it happened, Heather. I wish innocent people did not have to get hurt. But I cannot be responsible for what my supporters do. Whatever you may think of me, know this… my heart breaks for those who died who do not have any stake in my fight.”
“I know,” said Heather and placed a comforting arm on her shoulder. “I just wanted you to remind yourself of it.”
Marija took her hand, kissed the back of her palm.
“What does Salinger have to say?”
“The usual one line statement from a company spokesperson condoling the loss of lives at the behest of the rebels. That’s all you will hear from him.”
Both women looked up to see Wren entering the room.
“Anja just left on another supply run with a regiment of soldiers. I had some free time.”
She sat down opposite them and shook her curls off her face. She could not be older than her late twenties or early thirties, but the creases across her temples and the bags around her eyes showed a different picture. Over a year of treating displaced refugees and patching up rebel soldiers had aged her terribly.
“You still haven’t told me how you ended up here,” said Heather.
“Didn’t I say we would need something stronger for that?”
“Speaking of which,” said Marija, retrieving a small box from her cabinet. She placed it on the table and opened it.
“Holy shit!” exclaimed Wren, picking one up. “Is that what I think it is?”
“How did you get your hands on this?” asked Heather curiously.
“My black market contact added it along with the last shipment of arms. Compliments of the house.”
Even as she said this, Marija took out an ornate lighter.
“Ladies, shall we?”
She helped light all three joints before she lay back on her couch.
“Give it some time,” she said. “If you see lights flash too bright or the stars sparkle, that’s when you know it’s working.”
“My grandfather’s getting into the marijuana business. His stores are popping up state by state, suspiciously soon after that state legalizes it.”
“Crispin Salinger’s a drug dealer now?”
“Fancy stores with shiny packaging instead of corner boys with dime bags, but yes,” said Wren, taking another drag. “Along with big power, big construction, big defence and big real estate, my grandfather is officially big weed now.”
“Does that go with the rest of his… respectable empire?”
“Anything is respectable if it makes money,” replied Wren. “I’d wager cannabis is a lot more respectable than what he has done here.”
“What’s he like, your grandfather?” asked Marija, exhaling slowly. “You probably have seen more of him than anyone else in the world.”
“Did he once really book a whole Broadway theatre to see a play alone without the distractions of anyone else?” asked Heather.
“Yes.”
“Did he really gift his office cleaner a whole apartment complex because he was so impressed by how well she cleaned?”
“Oh yes. I’ve met her. Nice lady.”
“Did he – ”
“Let me stop you right there, Heather. If you’ve heard about it and it sounds outlandish, he probably did it.”
Heather and Marija took a deep drag each. Wren started again.
“The one failure in Crispin’s life was his daughter. My mother. He married her to the son of a wealthy Louisiana businessman. Within a year of their marriage, I was born. Then…”
The two other women listened with rapt attention.
“You have to understand that while my parents loved each other – they weren’t really cut out to be parents. Being responsible adults, let alone good parents, would have required them to cut down on most of their social life. That was a sacrifice neither was interested in. Whether it was partying all week in Miami or going on a wild rager that went on for a month at Ibiza or taking a cruise to Monte Carlo. They were addicted to excess and had money to burn. I was raised by my grandfather and his staff while my parents were partying in some exotic locale or the other.”
“That sounds horrible.”
“It wasn’t that bad, really. My grandfather blamed himself for being too liberal with my mother. With me, it was like he had a second chance at a child. I had the most expensive tutors at home and the best private schools abroad. He even insisted I take his surname, so the world would know I really was… and it worked.”
“I bet it did.”
“You have no idea,” said Wren with a chuckle. “The best med schools fell over themselves to have me attend and attract Crispin’s endowments. After I graduated, I got a residency at Mass General that’s nearly impossible to get. Coincidentally, an anonymous donor had just given them enough for a cutting edge infectious disease wing. He paved the way for me wherever I went.”
“Sounds like he loved you.”
“He loved me like how Da Vinci loved the Mona Lisa or how Michaelangelo loved the Sistine Chapel. He didn’t love me like a grandfather loves his granddaughter. I was a project to be constantly improved and bragged about. An extension of him.”
“How did you feel about it?” asked Marija.
“I liked it. Who wouldn’t? But as time passed, the veneer cracked. I saw him for who he really was. I saw him cross every line imaginable in his insatiable greed for money and power. I was barely in high school during the invasion of Iraq and I still had a nagging feeling in my gut that he was involved. I saw all the people his top aides met, but I never really put it together until months after the fact. When he decided to do it all over again here, I decided I had to do something. I joined Doctors Without Borders and now here I am.”
“And you just welcomed the granddaughter of the man who overthrew your father?” asked Heather curiously.
“Do you see a lot of doctors queueing up to help us?” replied Marija sardonically. “I had my reservations at first, but Wren has helped more people than I can count over the last two years.”
“And that’s not even the real reason I’m here,” said Wren. “You see, Heather, even with the cliffs and impossible terrain, Uncle Sam can always send a drone strike. In fact, as we speak, there are probably Reaper drones up there armed with Hellfire missiles ready to fire. The only reason they don’t – me.”
“You?”
“Yes, me. No matter how many times the Pentagon assures my grandfather that the drone strikes are precise and they can assure no harm will come to me, he will have none of it. Me being in the same zip code as a possible drone strike is too much of a risk for him. If so much as a firework goes off within a ten mile radius, my grandfather will make sure whoever gave the order never so much as works as a janitor ever again.”
“Our guardian angel,” said Heather.
Marija put her joint down and surveyed the other two women for a few minutes.
“Maybe you should thank her, Heather,” she said.
“Didn’t I just do that?”
“No, you rude Yank. I mean, really thank her,” Marija emphasized, a glint in her eye. “Don’t you have any manners? The good doctor is keeping us all alive and all you can give her is half-baked thanks.”
“What do you want me to do?” asked Heather, clearly too acquiescent.
“Ask her what she would like you to do for her.”
Heather turned her gaze back to the mass of curls sitting opposite them. Wren was clearly far more interested than she had been a minute ago.
“What would you like me to do?”
“I don’t know, Ms Franklin,” she said. “What do you do?”
“Well, if you ever do something illegal, I could probably find a way to get you out of it,” Heather shrugged.
“I’ll keep that in mind. I always hated parking tickets.”
“Parking tickets. Taxes. Embezzlement. Fraud. Murder… take your pick. I’ve made people I knew were guilty of all of them go free. If there’s a law that you’ve broken, I can break it further to get you off.”
“Ahem,” interjected Marija, lighting a fresh joint. “Before you started advertising your services to Dr Salinger, I was thinking of a whole other kind of getting her off.”
“Oh… oooooh,” Realisation slowly dawned on Wren.
“So how about it, doc? Do you want what I have been having for the past several months?”
It vaguely registered in Heather’s mind that she was being offered as a party favour, but she did not protest.
“I mean, I have to think about it,” said Wren. “I haven’t exactly had a roaring social life in a refugee camp. I was going strong with a Manhattan socialite, but I’m guessing that is shot to hell since I left her and came here.”
“Such a sacrifice,” tutted Marija. “Heather, please go over and thank the doctor properly.”
Heather put down her joint and stumbled over to Wren, laughing and giggling as she went. She bowed her head and pulled her into a deep kiss. Their lips angled into each other and Heather smelled the doctor’s uniquely musky scent.
“You’re welcome, especially if I get more of this.”
“Come here, Heather,” said Marija, patting her lap. “Sit down and face Wren.”
Heather did as asked, her eyes as wide as saucers from the extremely potent cannabis. Marija pushed her fingers into the waistband of Heather’s pants and pushed them down to her ankles.
“See anything you like, Dr Salinger?”
Marija’s firm hands held Heather’s legs apart, splaying her cunt obscenely for the doctor to see. Wren smiled and cocked her head.
“Don’t be shy. Come right up to get a better view.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” said Wren and got on her knees in front of Marija. Her gaze remained arrested on the lush opening invitingly laid out in front of her.
“Heather, would it be okay if the doctor had a taste? You heard her. She has not had any since she came here.”
Heather tried to fully process the situation. She looked down to see Wren peering up at her expectantly. Her limbs were immobile. The room was a mosaic of colours, ranging from cyan to purple, which morphed and swirled all around her. All the voices echoed around and around inside her head.
“We’re waiting, Heather.”
She clenched her eyes shut and opened them. Wren still waited patiently between her legs.
“Yeah. I mean she has helped us a lot and deserves a reward.”
A look and a nod passed between Marija and Wren before Heather felt a pair of hands on her inner thighs spreading them wider. She looked down to see Wren holding her apart and looking straight at her cunt.
“She’s wet,” Wren exclaimed, looking at the glistening hole.
Without further comment, she slid her index and middle fingers into Heather all the way to her second joint. It elicited a gasp at the sudden intrusion before Heather adjusted to the feeling of her rough, calloused fingers rubbing her velvety walls.
“It feels like my OBGYN rotation all over again,” laughed Wren. “You’re still so tight. No wonder Marija keeps you to herself.”
Marija chuckled and held her legs open wider.
“Come on, doc. You know you want to.”
Heather had closed her eyes to focus all her senses on the fingers plunging in and out of her when she suddenly felt them leave. After a momentary respite, she felt their place taken by Wren’s tongue, which went as deep inside her as it could.
“Oh… fuuuuuuuuuck!”
Her eyes shot open as she saw the mass of copper curls between her legs. Wren’s tongue was no less skilful than her fingers, alternating between her clit and lips. Each swipe of her tongue against Heather’s most sensitive parts sent currents of pleasures flowing all the way to the farthest reaches of her nervous system.
“Remember, babe. Don’t cum unless I say you can.”
“Oh, come on,” whined Heather. “Give me a fucking break.”
“Such language. Such insolence,” Marija tutted. “I am going to have to remind you of your manners when our guest has left.”
Wren ignored them and kept to her task. The air was redolent with the smell of Heather’s juices and the doctor’s tongue made wet slapping sounds.
“May I please cum?” asked Heather, holding back with all her might.
“Soon.”
Heather gritted her teeth as the unrelenting assault continued. Now the fingers had re-entered the fray and worked in concert with the talented tongue. She could feel the imminent deluge of pleasure approaching her like a hurtling train.
“Please…” she beseeched her captor to no avail.
The doctor increased her pace. Up and down, back and forth, left to right. Her tongue was everywhere at the same time, extracting every last ounce of pleasure from her prey.
“Now,” whispered Marija into her ear.
That was all it took. She closed her eyes and surrendered. Her body almost buckled under the sheer force of her orgasm.
Too tired to move, she closed her eyes and let herself lie limply in her lover’s arms.
* *
Day broke. Warm shafts of sunlight crept in through the open window onto the queen-sized bed. Heather and Marija lay wrapped in each other’s arms and covered in a duvet. It was almost too ideal to be true.
And it was.
The tranquillity was broken by a loud scream. Marija sat upright and hurriedly reached for some clothes she had discarded earlier. The screaming got closer, as did the sound of stomping footsteps.
“Stay behind me,” Marija said quickly before getting out of bed just in time to greet a livid Anja entering the room. She stood at the doorway and surveyed the semi-dressed lovers in front of her.
“What happened, Anja?”
“They killed him, Marija. They fucking killed him. It’s all over the news.”
Marija took a brief pause to process the news. She grasped the bed frame for support as the full realisation of what had happened hit her like a freight train.
“When?”
“A couple of hours ago. His trial was barely over. He still had appeals left. It shouldn’t have been so soon.”
Marija looked up as Anja handed her the tablet.
“Somebody leaked a video of his execution online. The lethal injection didn’t kill him immediately. They must have made a mistake with the dose or the chemicals but he bucked and thrashed in agony before he died. For ten minutes.”
Marija gritted her teeth as she pressed play on her screen and watched the grainy video. The General, the man she and her sister had looked up to all their lives, writhed and screamed in agony while the assembled men just looked on.
“Anja, I’m so sorry,” she said and moved to hug her sister. Anja, however, rebuffed her attempt and shoved her aside.
“While the two of you have been playing house, our soldiers have been dying, our people have been dying and now, Uncle Savic is dead and we did nothing to save him. Nothing at all.”
“That’s not true, Anja. We did everything we could.”
“Liar,” she screamed back. “We did nothing. I was too busy managing the camp and you were too busy fucking your whore.”
“Anja, please…”
“No. That is the last time I trust you. There is nothing between us now. I couldn’t save Uncle Savic, but I can damn well avenge him.”
“Anja, please… think this over. Don’t do anything rash.”
“I am way past that now,” Anja laughed. “I will go and put the word out to all our sympathisers and loyalists everywhere. Go find a Salinger employee and kill them. Kill them and their families. Kill them so their employer knows he’s next.”
“Anja, they are innocents who have nothing to do with what happened to Uncle Savic.”
“Maybe, but that’s the only language Crispin Salinger understands. I will kill every last employee of his with my bare hands if I have to… starting with his lawyer.”
Anja’s gaze suddenly shifted to Heather’s supine form amidst the bedsheets. In a trice, she was on the bed, clambering over to the redhead. Heather tried to kick her off, but Anja was far too strong and she had her palms around Heather’s neck.
“Anja, NO!”
“I have to. Before she came along, you were the leader we needed. You were always one step ahead of our enemies. The old you would never have let him be executed. You’ve gone soft fucking this bitch.”
Heather felt her vision blur and it got harder to breathe. Marija clambered on top of them and tried to prise Anja’s hands away from her throat.
“I need to do this. I need to kill her,” she wailed. “They killed him. They didn’t even grant him a bit of dignity in his death.”
“She didn’t do anything,” Marija forced out through gritted teeth. “We will get back at Salinger, but not today. Not this way.”
Just when Heather felt like she would pass out, Marija wrenched her sister’s hands away from her throat and pushed her off the bed. She stood up and looked at the pair, incandescent with rage.
“I want my sister back, you bitch. I don’t know what you’ve done with her, but I want her back. I-I.. need her.”
That was all Anja managed before twin teardrops broke through her defences. One of her tears traced the groove of a deep scar all the way to her ear.
“Anja, sestra,” said Marija and moved to wrap her arms around her sister.
“Don’t,” screamed Anja and blocked her. “Just fucking don’t. He loved you. He loved us and we couldn’t save him. You didn’t even try.”
“We did try,” said Marija. “We tried all we could, but failed.”
“Fuck you. Fuck both of you,” growled Anja and left the room. Marija looked shell-shocked for a brief instant, but quickly composed herself. Now was not the time for regret or recrimination.
“I have to go and stop her from doing something stupid.”
Heather simply nodded.
“Not just her, but the rest of them out there. He was a hero to the people and a father-figure to the soldiers. They will want blood too. I’ll have to go calm them.”
Heather sighed deeply, realising they would be difficult to persuade.
“You stay indoors. Don’t leave the house. If one of the soldiers sees the lawyer of the man who killed their beloved leader…” said Marija, leaving the unsaid implication hanging.
“Understood.”
Marija left hurriedly. Heather took the tablet and played the video again.
She had never seen a decorated and revered war hero having a seizure and crying like a helpless child. It was a sight she could have gone her whole life without seeing.
And yet she knew that somewhere, the video would have brought a smile to Crispin Salinger’s face.
* *
Heather was lost in thought, staring outside her window when the doors burst open. Marija walked in wearing full camo and purpose in her stride.
“Listen to me carefully,” she said. “There is a car and a driver I trust waiting at the back of the mansion. He will take you to the town of Mitrovica. There, another contact of mine will give you shelter and passage to Belgrade where you can go to the American consulate.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“Don’t fight me on this. Go!”
Heather sat on the bed with her arms crossed.
“Heather, please, you don’t understand,” implored Marija. “I cannot tell my men that I am keeping you to trade for the General any longer. Whatever protection you had is gone now. All they see you as is part of Salinger’s machine. The machine that killed the man they look up to. If you stay… I may not be able to keep you safe.”
“I’ll take that chance,” she replied plainly. “I’m not leaving you. Especially not now.”
Marija looked her up and down before letting out an exasperated sigh.
“Fucking hell, Heather!” she yelled, visibly losing her cool for the first time that Heather had seen. “Why won’t you listen to me? You’ve got a target on your back and everyone out there is going to take a shot at it.”
“I don’t care. I’m staying.”
Unable to restrain herself any longer, Marija grabbed Heather by the shoulders and raised her to her full height.
“Just go. Please. I can’t lose you.”
Heather smiled and kissed the back of her palm.
“You won’t lose me. Not a chance.”
Saying this, Heather wrapped her arms around Marija and buried her face in her lover’s shoulder. She grasped her tightly and gently kissed her cheek.
“All day, you have been trying to calm your sister. Trying to calm your soldiers. Trying to protect me from their wrath. Trying to talk your supporters out of killing innocent people as revenge. Has anybody asked you how you are feeling? You were close to the General too. He practically raised you and your sister. Anja got to break down and rage, but not you. You were too busy looking out for me.”
Marija was breathing heavily now. Heather held her tighter.
“Let me be the first one to tell you this today – I am so sorry you had to see him die. I know how much he meant to you.”
Heather felt a drop of wetness on her shoulder. Marija was not built to sob audibly, but this would do. These tears were long overdue.
She had been far too strong for one day.
* *
DAY 240
“Thanks.”
“For what?” asked Heather, caressing her cheek.
“Thanks for letting me cry the day the General died. I needed it.”
“You don’t need to thank me for that.”
“I wouldn’t have been able to break down in front of anyone else,” Marija admitted. “They can’t see me being weak. You can.”
“What are prisoners for if you can’t be yourself with them?”
Marija laughed and propped herself up on her elbow to admire Heather. They had spread a blanket on the terrace of the mansion and lay under a cloudless, moonlit night. She ran her fingers through her captive’s reddish brown hair and twirled a couple of strands between her fingers before tucking them behind her ear.
“How’s Anja doing?”
“She was furious at first, as you remember. Her and the more hot-headed among the soldiers threatened to go on an all-out rampage. It took a few days and a lot of talking to calm them down, to tell them that was exactly the reaction that Salinger wanted. He wanted us to surrender our position.”
Heather lay on her back and took a deep breath of the cool night air. Spring had given way to summer. Normally, Heather was not a summer person, but the climate was cooler given the height of the plateau.
“Do you think Anja still blames me for his death?”
“Probably. Keep your distance until I’ve figured out a way for her to co-exist with you.”
Marija sighed deeply and continued absently playing with Heather’s hair.
“She shouldn’t even be here. She has always been brash and impulsive and maybe even a bit reckless, but this war turned her into a killer. She didn’t ask for any of this. Do you know what she wanted?”
“What?”
“She wanted to open an expensive French restaurant in London and treat Uncle Savic, Dad and me to a four course meal. Before the war, she wanted Michelin stars. Now, she wants violence and death.”
“Given what she’s been through, I understand,” said Heather. “I don’t like that she frequently wants to take it out on me, but I understand.”
“I wish you knew all of us before the conflict.”
“Preferably not at gunpoint,” Heather added.
“Maybe I would have introduced you to my family over dinner at my sister’s three-Michelin starred restaurant. Maybe I would have proposed to you at the end of the meal. Down on one knee with a diamond ring. Like a cheesy Hollywood romance.”
“You lose points for creativity. One knee and ring over dinner? I’d expect something less basic from one of Interpol’s Most Wanted.”
“Oh it’s on!” exclaimed Marija. “How about on top of the Burj Khalifa?”
“I have a fear of heights, so unless you want to clean up after me… no.”
“There goes my next two choices then. Give me a few minutes to think.”
Heather looked up at the myriad stars embedded into the night sky. Little pins of light in an infinite darkness. Far from any major city, she could see a riot of stars, a swirling cloud in the cosmos spread out for her.
“I have a suggestion,” Heather said softly.
“I’m listening.”
“How about on a summer night, under a starry sky, in a rebel base in the middle of a fight for your country?”
Marija’s eyes went wide and she looked at Heather. Her heart was beating so hard that it might just break out of her ribcage. She tried to say something, but her words got caught in her throat.
“Are you serious?” she finally squeezed out.
“We don’t need an actual ceremony or let anybody else know. Just for you and me. Just for us.”
As she said this, Heather took Marija’s hand in hers and interlaced their fingers. She turned on her side until her face was almost touching Marija, their eyes inches apart. So close that she could see the moonlight shining on her crystal clear blue irises. So close she could see the glistening teardrop at the corner of her eye. So close that she could see Marija’s trembling lips part to let out one solitary syllable.
“Yes.”
* *
DAY 275
“All right. How bad is it?”
“We’re losing more men every day,” confirmed Wren. “The combined NATO forces and my grandfather’s mercenaries now have all the territory up to the foothills. There are more skirmishes now than there were, but it’s a losing battle for us. They have more soldiers and more firepower and they can always get even more. They’ve choked our main supply lines.”
“Can we hold the base?”
Anja did not like the question. She pondered over it for a few long moments before she shook her head.
“Okay,” sighed Marija. “We’ve known this day was going to come for a while now and we’ve planned for it. Anja, you rally the troops and delay their advance as much as possible. Wren, you organize the movement out through the cave system. Make sure everyone has all their belongings packed and ready to move on a moment’s notice.”
“We’re talking thousands of families here. They’ve already lost their homes once.”
“I know,” said Marija. “Our home is wherever we go. In a few months time when your grandfather’s troops come in and start firing, I don’t want any civilians around. We move to the forests and we keep moving. That’s how we survive.”
* *
DAY 300
Something was wrong. Heather could sense it as Marija paced a hole in the floor. She had already tried to ask twice and been rebuffed.
“She should have been back by now,” she finally said.
“Anja?”
“Yes. She went on a supply run with a group of soldiers to get weapons and ammunition from the Serbian army base. That was two days ago.”
Heather wanted to offer reassurance, but realised she was out of her depth. She placed her hand over Marija’s palm and pressed down comfortingly. It did little to calm her.
“If something happened to her, I-I…” Marija started before her voice trailed off. “I can’t lose her, Heather. I can’t. She has to be alright.”
Heather simply nodded, unsure of what she could say to comfort her. Back in Manhattan, she had the might of the most powerful law firm in the city to impose her will. Thousands of miles away, she was utterly powerless.
Marija checked her walkie once more. Heather’s Serbian had improved greatly in her ten month captivity and she understood when the voice on the other end confirmed that there had still been no sign of Anja.
Seconds turned into minutes and minutes into hours. Marija checked in at regular intervals, but got nothing. She wanted to go to the base, but didn’t want her soldiers to see her like this. As long as Anja was not back, there was no reason to assume the worst. Maybe the infiltration took longer than expected, maybe she found additional supplies to transport back. It wasn’t the first time she was delayed.
Even as Marija voiced her rationalisations, they did not soothe her. An imperceptible dread permeated her being and could not stop the spectre of her sister’s fate hanging over her. She couldn’t explain how, but she knew that something bad had happened.
Providentially, when she checked in again, there was a response. Heather watched from the bed as her jaw tightened and the colour left her face as she heard more. She sank to her knees and pummelled the floor.
And now Heather also knew.
* *
There was a crowd of soldiers gathered when Marija stopped the jeep. Many looked shell-shocked, some horrified. All eyes turned to the two women who got out. Heather knew none of the soldiers looked kindly upon her, but in the moment, she didn’t care.
The throng parted to allow them in. Marija seemed to be on auto-pilot, at once wanting to know what awaited her and dreading it. The closer she got, the more effort it took.
She was at the centre of the crowd when she saw it. The vehicle Anja had taken. There were no supplies. In the front seat lay the bullet riddled corpses of two of the soldiers. The back was covered by a tarpaulin. Not Undertaker was standing near the truck tried to block Marija from lifting it.
“Please. I have to see.”
Pursing his lips, he moved aside and helped Marija lift the tarpaulin. He clenched his eyes trying to block out the sight.
Anja’s naked corpse lay prone. The old scars on her face paled in comparison to the fresh ones on her back. They went deep and extended all across the length and breadth of her body. There were bruise marks around her wrists and ankles where she had been presumably tied down. Each laceration was surrounded by circles of burnt skin. The ones who did this had taken their time and clearly enjoyed it.
No soldier would ever have done this. Not even the worst kind. They were definitely Salinger’s men and the Serbian government had chosen to turn a blind eye.
Trembling, Marija rolled her onto her back. The sight of her torso looked straight out of a Korean horror movie. Bloody and eviscerated.
Marija sank to her knees and screamed. She screamed over and over again at the sky before finally she exhausted herself and wept like a child.
Heather’s gaze was transfixed on a patch of skin on Anja’s left thigh. A short message had been carved into her skin.
Regards — CS
* *
Wren and Heather stood several feet back while Marija readied to make her big speech. It was not to be the rousing speech of a commander leading troops into battle.
“How long do we have until the base can’t be held any longer?” Heather asked.
“A few weeks at best. Maybe a couple of months. As we speak, rebel forces are holding my grandfather’s soldiers back on the narrow forest path. We have the advantage of the higher ground, but that doesn’t change the fact that we are hopelessly outgunned.”
“Is everybody ready to move?”
“Not even close,” said Wren. “But we don’t have a choice.”
“We? Don’t tell me you’re going with them.”
“Even if there is no fighting, there will always be sick people and pregnant women. I don’t get to abandon them now.”
They leaned against a wooden pole when Marija started in Serbian to the gathered crowd.
“I wish I could give you better news than I have to,” she said to all assembled. “I wish I could tell you that we are turning the tide in this war, but I can’t. The enemy is just weeks away from entering the camp. These aren’t soldiers that are coming. They are trained killers who have no qualms about who they hurt and how.”
Only Heather and a few of the soldiers had seen first hand what they had done to Anja.
“We cannot defend the camp any longer. All of you, pack whatever belongings you can and prepare to leave. The doctor and the volunteers can help you and the remaining soldiers will show you where to go. It is a long path ahead of you.”
She stopped to form the next part in her mind.
“I will be making a last stand here along with all those who will stand with me. Anybody who dies by my side will have died my brother. Anybody who leaves with the families, you are doing a great service too. No women, no children and no man who has a family will stay.”
This caused a sudden murmur within the crowd. A group of men tried to protest in vain.
“No,” said Marija firmly. “This war has taken my family from me. It has taken my father and my sister. I will not let it tear any more families apart. Be with your wives, be with your children. They will need you in the times ahead. They will need you much more than I will when we face certain defeat.”
Wren looked away, trying not to think of what was going on inside Marija’s head. Heather placed a palm on her shoulder.
“She’s doing the right thing, Wren. She doesn’t get to be Mel Gibson from Braveheart just because they want her to. She’s making the hard decision to give up her fight and save her people rather than take everyone down in a blaze of glory.”
“I know,” the doctor admitted. “But it doesn’t mean I like it.”
“It’s her struggle. We don’t get to like it.”
“I have to go and oversee the preparations for evacuation,” said Wren. “Be there for her. She will need you more than ever now.”
Wren wrapped Heather in a hug.
“She has to be strong for everyone else, but she’s broken inside. The cracks started when the General died and now with her sister… This is her swansong, her last few days of freedom. Please, be there for her.”
* *
DAY 305
The storm lashed the building. A relentless gunfire of raindrops struck the window. Marija sat at the edge of the bed with a thousand yard stare. She remained motionless as Heather approached her tentatively.
“You haven’t eaten anything for three days now.”
It was impossible to know if Marija heard it.
“Don’t punish yourself, babe.”
There was still no response. Heather tried to reach out and touch her cheek softly.
“Do you think she suffered?” asked Marija. “Was she in pain when they were doing those things to her?”
It was a stupid question and they both knew it. Anja would have been in unimaginable pain and Salinger’s men intended it so. Heather looked down to avoid answering.
“Then don’t fucking tell me to stop punishing myself,” Marija screamed. “That was my sister. My flesh and blood. The last bit of family I had.”
Heather sat beside her and tried to place a comforting arm. Marija pushed it away and went on.
“She had no business being here. It was my fight.”
“You’re her big sister. She looked up to you” Heather said. “She wanted to help you avenge what happened to your father.”
“And look where that got her.”
Marija clenched her eyes shut and pounded her fist on the bed.
“It’s my fault. It was an impossible fight. You told me that, Wren told me that, but I didn’t listen. I clung onto the fantasy that we could prevail in the face of insurmountable odds. I led my soldiers and my sister into a battle that could not be won.”
Heather stood in front of her and grabbed her shoulders.
“Listen to me,” she said firmly. “Every single soldier who died, died fighting for their country. They sacrificed their lives for what your father and you believed in. You don’t get to belittle that sacrifice by calling it a fantasy.”
Unconvinced, Marija kept her gaze fixed outside her window.
“No,” Heather said firmly. “You don’t get to give up. Let me talk to Wren. We can still smuggle you out of here.”
“I don’t want to go.”
“They’ll kill you,” said Heather sombrely. “They’ll have a very public show trial where they will parade you and your crimes on stage and then they’ll have you executed. They did it to Saddam, they almost did it to Gaddafi, they did it to General Savic and they will do it to you.”
“It will be no more than I deserve.”
“You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve any of it.”
“I do,” she said evenly. “Whatever happens to me now, I will take it. It will be nothing compared to what my sister went through.”
“You can’t change what happened to Anja.”
“No, but I can do this for myself. I need to do this.”
Lightning flashed outside the window, painting her face white for a moment.
“It’s what I want to do,” Marija said firmly. “I want to sit here and burn.”
Heather grasped her from behind and kissed her neck.
“Remember the vows we made on the terrace? I’ll not leave you. If you burn, I’ll be right here, holding you close, burning with you.”
Marija held her arm and wiped a teardrop away.
“Hold me.”
The storm swirled outside. Miles away, deep in the forests, the last of the rebel soldiers fought the rising tide of their enemy. There was nothing left for them now. Nothing but each other.
“Please don’t let go.”
They were scared and alone and they held each other tightly for courage.
* *
DAY 365
It had rained all week before the day in question. The wet soil had a unique fragrance that reminded Heather of home. The full moon shone through the clouds. It was a beautiful night. Far too beautiful to be the last night of Marija’s freedom.
Heather and Marija sat on the grassy knoll overlooking the rebel base. A base that was deserted now, except for the scant group of soldiers trying desperately to hold back the allied offensive.
“Is it time?” Heather asked. Marija simply nodded.
“What happens now?”
“I honestly don’t know,” Marija admitted. “The men who will come for me might just decide to shoot me in the head and end it all right here.”
“And deny Crispin the opportunity of making a public spectacle of your trial? No chance.”
Heather took a drag of her cigarette and spoke again.
“I’m sorry it had to come to this.”
“Don’t be. You couldn’t have prevented it.”
“I could have shown him the middle finger when his men hired me to be part of this farce. I could have stayed in New York.”
“They would just have sent someone else,” smiled Marija. “And they wouldn’t have been as pretty.”
Heather smiled. It was not often that she was complimented, much less so by a terrorist.
“Let me represent you at your trial.”
Marija chuckled and caressed her hair.
“Just imagine the tabloids. Lawyer represents her own captor,” she said. “You don’t need that baggage in your life.”
Heather tried to come up with a compelling reason why she should do it anyway when Marija spoke up again.
“Promise me something,” Marija said. “Promise me you will give life a chance. Right from the first time I saw you, I could see pain in your eyes. Pain and the jaded resignation of someone waiting to die. You’re better than that, Heather.”
Heather held her hand and smiled.
“I don’t know. The longest relationship of my life has been this one.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes,” she nodded. “I have officially been in love with a rebel leader for longer than I have been with anyone else.”
“Wow, that is some next level Stockholm Syndrome,” remarked Marija.
Both laughed and leaned on each other.
“It could also be Lima Syndrome,” replied Heather. “When a Peruvian militia group took over the Japanese Embassy in Lima in 1996, it was actually the captors who sympathised with the hostages and not the other way around.”
“I don’t think they have one for when the captor and hostage fall in love. Not just sympathy, not just acquiescence, but love.”
Heather pondered over it thoughtfully before she opened her mouth.
“Let’s call it Kosovo Syndrome.”
“My father would have been disappointed you’re not calling it Serbia Syndrome,” said Marija. “But fine, we can call it that.”
They leaned against each other as the sound of approaching gunfire could be heard. In the distance, they could see red laser sights and shafts of torchlight cutting through the darkness of the woods and making their way towards them.
It was time.
“Do try to look traumatized. It would help my street cred if you looked more like someone who has been held hostage by a rebel army for a whole year.”
* *
EPILOGUE
ONE YEAR LATER
Heather sat up in bed. The latest object of her affections and the cause for the sheen of sweat plastered on her skin lay curled up in her sheets. She had known for some time that it was the day and she had resisted the urge to turn on her news. As if not seeing it on screen would change it.
She vacillated for a few more minutes before turning on her flatscreen and switching to CNN. The always effervescent Kelly Chavez popped up on screen. After a few minutes of working through the rest of the news from around the world, she finally got to it.
“The dreaded terrorist leader Marija Kovačević, leader of the rebel group the Serbian Liberation Army, was sentenced to death today by a special war crimes tribunal in International Criminal Court. She has exhausted all her appeals and will be executed by lethal injection soon. She had been responsible for over twenty bombings and political assassinations all over Europe. Marija was the daughter of the former President who had been deposed in a coup. She and the remainder of her loyalists were holed up in a base in the Dinaric Alps for almost two years before a joint operation from the Serbian Army and NATO troops finally captured her.”
Heather grimaced. She had mentally prepared herself for the news, but it had done little to soften the blow. Kelly went on.
“She had taken celebrity lawyer, Heather Franklin, hostage and kept her for a year before she was rescued. All through the trial, Ms Franklin has refused to testify and remained unavailable for comment.”
On cue, Heather saw her face come up on screen beside that of Marija. She immediately felt a lump in her throat and reached out to touch the face of the woman she loved.
Her fingertip was inches from the screen when Marija’s face was replaced by a grossly overweight man as Kelly smoothly segued into the actual headline of the news cycle about a washed up, broke former child star of a wildly popular 90’s sitcom who had been found naked and dead in a motel room with a speedball in his lap, a needle in his arm and two barely legal Slovakian hookers who lay equally dead by his side. His signature catch-phrase from the show was tattooed on each of his butt cheeks.
Heather recoiled in disgust and changed the channel hoping for another shot of Marija.
No luck.
Fox could not stop gushing about Salinger Energy’s record profits for the quarter and how they had beaten every Wall Street estimate. MSNBC was on the topic of a localized outbreak of bat-borne coronavirus in the city of Wuhan in the Hubei province of China. The local authorities had assured everyone that the disease was under control and had been contained. CBS was hosting a talk show with Energy Secretary Roger Costello, asking him to confirm the rumours that he was sizing up a Presidential run next cycle.
She flipped through the channels in vain before turning off the TV.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
Heather turned around to see the lady on her bed awake and looking at her curiously.
“It’s nothing, Flo. Nothing at all.”
“Your lips say nothing and your eyes say everything,” Flo said. “I’m here if you want to talk. We authors do make good listeners.”
“I don’t really.”
“Oh come on, babe. We’ve known each other for six months and you haven’t told me anything about your time with that psychotic monster.”
The last two words rankled Heather. Her hackles rose as she stared daggers at the other woman.
“Florence,” she said quietly. “Just because I you’re in my bed now does not give you the right to talk that way about her. I love you, but if you do it again, you will no longer be welcome in my bed. Do we understand each other?”
Flo nodded and smiled. She understood way more than Heather wanted her to.
“I’m sorry, Heather. I didn’t know,” she said. “Come back to bed.”
* *
It was late at night when Heather made her way to the rooftop of her Upper East Side apartment building. She had a blanket in one hand and a bottle of Screaming Eagle Cabernet in the other. It was the obscenely expensive 92 vintage, a gift from Crispin Salinger for a job well done.
She lay out the blanket and poured herself a glass. It was velvety and sweet. She checked her phone. There was yet another offer by a publisher for a tell-all memoir about her year in captivity. Hachette had joined the long queue of those who wanted the exclusive rights to her story, not to mention every single media house who had bombarded her with interview requests. A more savvy individual would have done the whole talk show circuit, had a Netflix special in the works and already be on the phone with a major publisher. Not her. She politely declined every time. What her NDA allowed her to say, she wouldn’t, and what she really wanted to say, no one would understand.
She put the glass by her side and lay down. The ambient lights of Manhattan meant the stars were barely visible, but she imagined them scattered all over the sky. She willed herself to look higher, even higher until she was past the lights, past the sky and behind the stars.
In a cosmic garden somewhere her eyes could not see, she hoped there was a French restaurant where Anja served a sumptuous meal to her father and Uncle Savic. Marija would join them soon. There was joy and laughter at the table.
She hoped for it, even if she wasn’t a part of it.
For Heather Franklin didn’t belong there. She could not bear the thought of joy and laughter. Wherever she went, heartache and death followed.
As she stared up at the stars, her vision blurred and her tongue tasted something salty.
* *
EPILOGUE II
(You weren’t expecting that now, were you?)
The Hague, Netherlands
“Why can’t this charade come to an end?” thought Marija. Despite the sentencing, she kept having to come back to the same court and listen to the same judges regurgitate the same lies. She was being asked to allocute to her crimes in public, something about the victims of her attacks wanting closure.
Sadly, there was no such closure demanded for the innocent Serbians who had died in the war. Or for her sister.
A fresh pang of sorrow went through Marija as she thought about her sister. Anja should not have been anywhere near a war zone. Vivid images of her violated corpse floated in front of Marija’s eyes, indelibly seared into her memory. She craved the needle as soon as possible if it would help expedite her fate.
Death promised nothingness. A freedom from the lies and the pain.
She sat in the court room in her usual stony-faced silence. The so-called victims sat opposite and eyed her curiously. Perhaps they expected her to have horns or a spiked tail. The devil could not possibly look like her.
The trio of judges waited patiently until it was clear that no allocution was forthcoming. Sighing, they asked her to be sent back to prison and would schedule another hearing.
Evidently the puppet-master sitting thousands of miles away wanted a show and she was being a spoilsport by refusing to give it to them.
The bailiffs grabbed her by the arms and escorted her out. The press had long lost interest in the trial. From thronging the courtroom and spilling over into gallery at the start of the trial to a few disinterested scribes clearly too busy on their phones now.
The men handed her over to the waiting van for transport back to the prison. Even the security presence around her had receded to the bare minimum. No one was interested in guarding a deflated prisoner with no interest in escaping. The judges may have passed the sentence, but she had spent the whole year as a dead woman walking.
The guard looked new, not that Marija really cared. She had been on auto-pilot for over a year and was just going through the motions at that point. To her, it was another face in a sea of faces.
He opened the back of her armoured transport van and let her climb in.
“For the ashes of his fathers and the temples of his Gods.”
Marija’s head snapped up at the man who had now climbed in with her. He smiled at her and undid her handcuffs. He knocked on the driver partition and it slid aside, revealing the copper curls of Wren Salinger.
“We have to hurry. They’ll figure it out soon. Our fake ID’s are good, but they will eventually know, especially when you don’t show up at your prison. Our best option is to switch cars. We have another car in an underground parking lot nearby.”
Wren shoved a phone through the opening to Marija. Still bewildered, she flipped open the burner and found one number saved in the Contacts. An American number. The truck rumbled into motion while she pressed the call button.
“We made vows to each other that night, Marija with a J. Did you really think I would let you off the hook that easy?”
“Heather, oh God!” Marija’s voice choked and tears burst through her eyes. “It’s really you.”
“Of course it is. Now listen, I had to pay someone a lot of money for these two phones. The line is encrypted, but let’s not stay on it for long.”
“Got it.”
“Wren contacted me last week. The men you will meet know what happens next. They’ve been planning it for over a year. Apparently, you have way more friends than you realised, you silly martyr.”
“It’s so good to hear your voice again.”
“We’ll save that for later. For now, I have to be careful. Once news of your escape breaks, Salinger’s teams will be going over all the ways it could have happened and who could have helped. Given that I spent a year with you and got out unscathed means that I am definitely going to be under a microscope. It would be best if you were to go dark. This will be the last time we speak in a long time.”
“I don’t even know how to thank you.”
“Thank me by getting rid of that sorry look I saw on TV. I don’t need the defeated Marija. I need your rage. I need you to inspire as many people as you can and then I need your help to get to Salinger.”
“He dies. There’s no other way it ends.”
“Careful now,” Heather chuckled. “He’s eighty, so he may die of natural causes before you get to him.”
“He doesn’t get to die of natural causes,” she said with quiet conviction. “I am going to get into the same room as him and I will make what he did to my father and sister look pleasant in comparison.”
Heather smiled. She had missed this steel in Marija’s voice.
“Stay off the grid. Go underground. Grow your army. Make plans. Know that when the time comes and you need me to play my part, I will be here waiting.”
There was silence on the call for a few minutes before Heather spoke up again.
“Be careful, babe. You are going up against someone with unlimited resources.”
“Do you know who is far more dangerous than someone with unlimited resources?” asked Marija. “It’s someone with nothing to lose.”
* *
“These violent delights have violent ends.”
― William Shakespeare
If you liked this story and would like to read more about Heather Franklin, you can try the below stories about her listed chronologically