Evil Deeds (Bob Danforth 1) (28 page)
Read Evil Deeds (Bob Danforth 1) Online
Authors: Joseph Badal
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Thrillers, #Spy Stories & Tales of Intrigue, #Espionage
A large mirrored globe turned slowly above the dance floor, reflecting multi-colored spotlights. Thousands of tiny lights spun around the floor and splashed off the couples moving to the sounds of the music. Miriana pressed against Michael and tried to follow his movements. She found the music strange, the dance steps incomprehensible. But she didn’t care. Being held by Michael made her feel wonderful. The band played songs Michael said were “country and western.” She didn’t ask for an explanation.
“I’m going to have to teach you how to dance to American music,” Michael said.
“A part of my American education I will look forward to,” she answered. “You know my people would kill me for being seen in public with
gadjo
. And dancing! Oh my God! They would stone me.”
“You say
gadjo
like it’s a dirty word. What’s it mean?”
“Anyone who is not Gypsy is considered
gadjo
. Our people consider all
gadji
unclean –
mahrime
. A Gypsy who goes with a non-Gypsy also becomes unclean. So, I guess it
is
‘dirty’ word, as you say.”
Miriana looked at Michael’s face and thought, You could be the
gadjo
of all
gadjos
and I would not care a bit about what other Gypsies think.
“But my mother is Bulgarian – a
gadja,
” she said, “so I am already soiled.”
“Does your mother have blue eyes, too?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me about her.”
“Are you really interested?”
“Sure. I’m interested in anything to do with you.”
Miriana felt herself blushing. She brought her head back to Michael’s shoulder so he wouldn’t notice. “My mother, with no support from my father, teached my brother, Attila, and me history, geography, foreign languages – English and German – and other things. She read articles from foreign newspapers and magazines to us. Made us read them back to her.”
“She must be well-educated.”
“Self-educated. She not want us to follow my father’s Gypsy ways.”
The band finished the song and took a break. Michael guided Miriana to their table.
“And your father?” Michael asked gently.
Miriana hesitated for only a moment. She decided it would be better to know now if her past offended him.
“My father is much older than mother. He was leader of big Gypsy clan at end of World War II. He led clan for years. Then something happened – I do not know what – and he went on his own. He was married before, but divorced after death of only son. In the sixties, he met my mother, Vanja. She had escaped to Greece from Communist Bulgaria with her parents when she was only twelve. My father was thirty-eight when they met; she was eighteen.”
Michael whistled. “Big age difference,” he said.
Miriana paused a moment. “I think my mother loved my father very much. He was good looking and – how you say it? – dashing. Still is handsome man. She found him exciting. She was oldest of seven children. I think Mama would have done anything to get away from her parents’ home.” Miriana laughed. “She was tired of raising younger brothers and sisters. Whether my father ever loved Mama” – she hunched her shoulders – “I cannot tell you. He never showed affection for her.”
“What’s your father’s name?”
“Stefan. Stefan Radko. But for some reason my mother, brother and I have always gone by my mother’s maiden name – Georgadoff.”
“It sounds like your father has skeletons in his closet,” Michael said.
Miriana’s eyes rounded and her mouth dropped open in an “O.”
Michael laughed. “That means he must have secrets from his past.”
“Oh! I see. Kidding again. You are big kidder, no?”
Michael laughed again. “I am big kidder, yes,” he said.
“I think Father has many skeletons in closet. Understand, I love my father. But he is what you Americans call big son-of-bitch.”
R-r-r-ing.
Bob, instantly awake, jerked the receiver from its cradle on the nightstand. He looked at the clock by the phone: one-fifteen. “Danforth residence,” he whispered hoarsely.
“Bob, it’s Jack. Sorry to bother you at this hour.”
Bob sat up against his pillow.
“Miriana’s disappeared.”
“What!” He said breathlessly. “How the hell is that possible? She was under guard on a secure airbase, behind a barbwire fence.”
“All we know is she told a guard at the base she had an upset stomach. He went down the hall to use the telephone to call the base doctor. That’s when she slipped out. She took his keys from the field jacket the guard had left hanging on the chair outside her room. She took his truck. The cops just found it at the bus terminal.”
“Didn’t the gate guard challenge her?”
“They don’t challenge people leaving the base.”
“Did she get on a bus? Did you talk to a ticket agent?”
“Yeah. She’s a little hard to miss. The guy at the bus terminal remembers seeing her, but he couldn’t remember which bus she took. She could have gone anywhere.”
“So what are we doing?”
“We contacted Greyhound. They’re cooperating.”
“Good for them!” Bob said sarcastically.
“Listen, Bob. This young lady can place Karadjic at several locations on specific dates where atrocities occurred. The stuff she’s given us will be one more nail in the Serb hierarchy’s coffin – if we can get them in front of the War Crimes Tribunal – and if she’s there to testify.”
“I understand, Jack. What can I do?”
Jack didn’t answer.
“What’s up?” Bob asked.
“Would you do me a favor and call Mike?”
“What for?”
Jack didn’t answer.
“Oh no,” Bob said. “You can’t really believe Mike had anything to do with her disappearance. There’s no way he’d do something that stupid.”
“Bob, if the other side picks her up, they’ll kill her. And if Mike happens to be with her . . ..”
“I’m telling you, he’d never help her run away.”
“I’m sure you’re right, Bob. But the bus to Miami left shortly after Miriana disappeared. And it stops in Fayetteville. Do me a favor and call Michael.”
“I’ll get back to you.” Bob hung up the phone and swung his legs out of bed.
“Who was that?” Liz asked in a thick voice.
“I’ll explain in a minute. I’ve got to make a call.”
Bob went downstairs and dialed Michael’s number. He got his answering machine.
The rumble of the Porsche’s engine woke Vitas. He leaped from the bed and went to the window, pulling the curtain aside a couple of inches. Michael Danforth got out of the driver’s side and ran around to help Miriana out of the low-slung vehicle. Vitas watched them walk to the motel room three doors down from his own. They embraced and kissed. Danforth then returned to the car and drove off. Vitas checked his watch: three-twenty.
He grew angry while he watched them. He had wanted to charge down to where they had stood and pound the young man into the concrete walk. But he would bide his time.
He waited nearly an hour, until long after the sliver of light coming from Miriana’s window disappeared. Then he put on his jacket, stepped outside, tossed his bag in the rear seat of the rental car, and backed it into the slot in front of Miriana’s room. He got out of the car, opened the trunk, listened for a moment, then kicked in her door.
The girl moved on the bed and Vitas pounced on her before she could throw off the covers. He swung his fist against the side of her head, heard her moan, and then watched her go still. He bound her ankles and wrists with strips of cloth he tore from the bed sheets, and gagged her with one of her own socks from the floor. He went to the light switch and turned on the room’s overhead light. After hastily stuffing her things in her overnight bag, he walked outside, looked around to make sure no one else was around, and dumped the bag in the trunk. He went back into the room and made sure he’d packed up all of her things. He wadded up the sheets and tossed them into a corner. There would be no ready evidence she’d been abducted. He wanted it to look as though she’d packed up and left of her own free will.
The girl was moaning and her head moved from side to side. Vitas stared at her bare legs and the bulge of her breasts against her T-shirt. He licked his lips and felt a tension build in his groin. This one will be one of the best, he thought.
Miriana felt dizzy. Her head ached. She blinked her eyes and tried to figure out what was wrong. Her vision seemed blurred. Then she saw the man and it all came back to her. Miriana’s breath caught. She tried to scream, but only a series of muffled grunts and whines came through the gag. He looked like the devil. She felt a wave of desperation overwhelm her while staring at the man’s cruel features – the pink scar running down his right cheek, the thin slash his mouth made, the beak-like nose, and the one gold tooth. But his dead, milky-white eye frightened her most. She detected no humanity in the man’s face. Miriana felt a chill grip her, like an icy hand squeezed her heart. Tears rolled from her eyes. She’d never been more afraid.
The man smiled.
Vitas bent down and roughly squeezed the girl’s breasts. He stared at her silk bikini underpants. He lifted the front of her pants and stared at her pubic area. Smiling again, he said to her in Serbo-Croatian, “We are going to have much fun, my little bird.”
Vitas walked away from the bed, opened the door, and peeked outside. He looked up and down the row of rooms. No lights had come on. No doors had opened. Returning to the bed, he whistled as though he was out on a Sunday stroll. No cares, no worries. He took a plastic bag from his pocket, extracted a chloroform-soaked cloth from the bag, and pressed it against her face, waiting until she stopped struggling and her breathing slowed. He lifted the girl and carried her out to the car trunk. He went back to the room, clicked off the overhead light, and closed the door. Then he got behind the wheel of the rental and drove away.