The Rendition (22 page)

“Soldiers were killed.”

“Which soldiers? KLA soldiers? How were they killed?”

Within seconds, she gathered up her skirt, blouse, and bra. With her clothing in one hand and her shoes in the other, she eyed me. Clutching her clothing against her tits, she started moving slowly toward the door. I stepped forward, blocking her way. She looked terrified, like a cornered animal.

There was no point trying to stop her. She'd only scream.

Rather than grabbing her, I tried one last question. “How did they break the
besa
, Tania? What did they do?”

After scurrying to the door, Tania stood for a brief moment with her hand on the knob. Then she clicked open the door and was gone.

I grabbed my shirt, slipped it on, buckled up my pants. It took a minute to lace up my shoes. With my shirt only half buttoned, I opened the door, peered in both directions. No one was up here, at least not as far as I could see.

I couldn't tell whether anyone had noticed Tania's hasty exit. The only way back down was the staircase. Standing on the landing and looking out over the big room, I couldn't see Tania or Quemal. The place was still crowded, the noise and smoke even worse than before. But there were other rooms up on this floor, and for all I knew, she was in one of them. Quemal could also be in one of them. He was the one person who could connect me with Kosovo, and that was something I didn't need. I ducked back into the room, took a quick look out the window. There was no balcony, no way down. I should have checked this out earlier.

My heart had begun to pound. Even though no more than three minutes had elapsed since Tania's exit, a lot can happen in three minutes.

Suddenly, there was the sound of loud music. Without hesitating, I grabbed my jacket and headed back out to the landing. Another girl was on stage and shaking her God-given attributes. Although I couldn't make out anything unusual, I knew that people here were aware of my presence.

My only thought now was to get out of this building and get back to the car.

But that might not be so easy. Iaon the bartender had left the bar and, with a cell phone to his ear, was walking toward the door and looking over his shoulder in this direction. I didn't like that. Standing not far away was a man I remembered from Quemal's table, and I didn't like that either. When I saw Iaon say something and jerk his thumb in my direction, I decided that was something else not to like.

I took the stairs down two at a time.

At the bottom of the staircase, I looked around, then saw a couple of characters moving toward the front door. I had an idea they'd be preventing me from leaving. Leading toward the rear of the building was a wide, unlit corridor. I didn't know what went on back there, but I assumed there was another door out of this place. I could feel cold sweat on my forehead. I realized now I'd gone too far with Tania. I could have let it go when she stopped answering. Making her suspicious wasn't the smartest thing I've ever done.

Moving slowly down the darkened corridor, I went by a room with WC on the door, then what looked like an office—maybe belonging to the boss pimp. Quemal and Adem could be anywhere, back here, upstairs, or even outside somewhere. I tried a door at the rear, but it only opened into a small work area. I tried another door, which opened into a room with a bed and a half-dressed man and a naked woman bouncing around on top of it. “Excuse me.” I tried another door and found it locked.

At the end of the broad corridor was a window. After pushing aside a heavy drape, I tried opening it, saw it too was locked. I fought against a surge of panic. I was trapped.

Through the window I could see a big lot, beyond which was another building with what looked like a loading dock at the near end. If
I could get out there, I'd be fine. I briefly considered breaking the window but decided against that. Looking to my right, I saw only darkness. I went in that direction. After I'd gone a hundred feet, I was able to make out what looked like a door. Whether it was locked or unlocked I didn't know, but no one was back there, so I headed for it. When I reached it, I tried the handle. It opened onto a small porch piled with cartons and plastic bags. There was a cement path leading alongside the building back in the direction of the road I'd driven in on and where I'd parked. But if the bartender and his buddies were waiting for me at the front door, I'd be walking right into them.

And maybe walking into Quemal too. I decided against that.

It would be safer to head back the other way, toward the big yard that I saw from the window.

There had to be a way out of there. If I had to scramble over the wall I'd seen from the window, I could manage that. Then I'd circle around and approach my car from the other direction. Not exactly a piece of cake, but definitely better than walking back toward the K Klub's front door.

I was sweating and panting, and as I went, I thought about Quemal. I'd need to pry him loose from this place, then squeeze a confession out of him. Sylvia would have some ideas about how to manage that.

Although I had to scale a wire fence to get out of the yard, it took less than ten minutes to get around to the access road.

I'd told Sylvia to give me an hour and a half. I wondered where she was.

There seemed to be even more cars now, most of them parked haphazardly on the shoulder. I'd left our car less than a hundred feet from the building, one of half a dozen parked at the edge of the narrow dirt road.

Looking in both directions, I didn't see anyone. There was no moon.

I think this was my last thought before I was surprised by the sound of footsteps on the gravel behind me.

I spun around but was a fraction of a second too late. I threw a wild punch, but didn't hit anything. He'd stayed low, then came at me hard,
catching me broadside and sending me up against the side of a car. With the wind partially knocked out of me, I was still able to dodge a punch aimed at my face. He came at me again, and down we both went. Although he was on top of me and my right hand was pinned, my left wasn't, and when I swung, I caught him on the side of the head. The blow must have dazed him. I felt his grip around my neck loosen. That was the chance I needed. Throwing fifty-pound blocks of ice around builds up your forearms, and I surprised myself with the force with which I was able to shove him off me.

Suddenly, there was something in his right hand, and it didn't require a genius to know what it was. I grabbed his wrist with my left. My right hand closed around a rock, but as I was about to bang his head with it, something came down on the back of my neck.

I felt groggy. My head hurt. It took a couple of seconds to realize there was a woman there, and that it was the woman who had clobbered me from behind with something hard—and a few seconds more to realize the woman was Tania. Then I felt someone running his hands over my body—patting me down, slipping the KA-BAR out of the holster. That was Quemal.

Still woozy, I was on the ground, flat on my stomach. Quemal had his knee in the small of my back. A knot of hair in his hand, and what felt like a knife against my Adam's apple. All I could see of Tania was her shoes as she opened the rear door of a car. Then she said, “Quemal wants to talk with you. He says to climb into the car.”

I was hardly on my feet when Quemal pushed me into the rear seat, shoving me hard and causing my head to bang against the other door. He was on top of me immediately. With his knife against my throat, I hardly dared breathe, no less move. His black eyes were about six inches from mine.

I could tell from his smile that he recognized me. Because of how he had me pinned, I couldn't move anything except my left leg.

Tania climbed into the car's front seat. She seemed very composed and not at all afraid of Quemal. When she looked at me and shook her head, I couldn't tell if she was expressing sympathy or disapproval.
For a while, no one said anything, and there was only the sound of Quemal's heavy breathing. When he finally spoke, his tone was eerily familiar, another happy memory of my trip to Kosovo.

My left leg was the leg on which I'd strapped the holster.

As they talked, I wondered whether they'd notice if I moved my left wrist. Despite the darkness in the car, I decided I couldn't chance it.

Tania's attention was on my face. “Quemal says he remembers you. You were in Kosovo. He says you are responsible for the death of his friend Fadilj.”

“Fadilj tried to kill my friend.” As I spoke, I moved my leg back about two inches.

Tania said, “Quemal says it is justice that Allah delivered you to him. But first he wants to know how you found him here.”

I wondered where Sylvia was. But even if she'd seen what had happened, I didn't see that there was anything she could do.

I decided to move my leg a few more inches. I said, “Tell Quemal he will soon be arrested. His only hope is to spare my life.”

When Tania had relayed my reply, Quemal laughed, then said something in guttural Albanian.

Sylvia, where are you?

With my leg bent at my knee, and neither of them paying attention to anything except my answers, I slowly moved the fingers of my left hand. I knew that anything like an obvious move would result in my throat being slashed. One small factor working in my favor was that Quemal seemed to be enjoying his moment of triumph and was drawing it out.

Moving only my fingers, I was finally able to touch the handle of the Beretta.

Tania said, “Quemal will let you live. But only if you tell him why you are here. Quemal says he is a merciful person.”

“Tell him I'm happy to hear that. Tell him to take the knife from my throat.” Keeping my wrist locked and moving only my fingers, I removed the weapon from the ankle holster. But I was only able to hold it awkwardly between my thumb and my index finger.

“Quemal says you no longer have friends to save you as you did in Kosovo. There is no hope for you. Tell him why you are here and how you found him.”

As I pushed the safety with my thumb, I said, “Ask him if his friend Ramush Nadaj is here.”

As Quemal increased the pressure of the blade against my throat, I felt blood running down the side of my neck. Another inch and I'd be gone. He was smiling the same goofy smile I remembered from the night in the shack in Kosovo when he was fooling around with the Leatherman.

Again I asked myself how I get mixed up with people like this.

Unfortunately, I knew the answer. I'd become overconfident. Max had been right. I could have handled this differently. Too late for that now. I did my best to focus on the precarious hold I had on the weapon.

Still holding the Beretta with two fingers and now fearful I might let it drop, I placed my thumb inside the trigger guard.

I was afraid that Tania might notice my hand, but then she shifted on the front seat, and climbing to her knees, she looked me in the eye. “Quemal says again, he wants to know who is with you.” When I didn't reply, she shook her head. Her face was a foot from mine. She said quietly, “Quemal is losing patience. You must answer. He will kill you otherwise.”

I had an idea Quemal intended to kill me no matter what.

Slowly, I pointed the barrel upward, moving it around, trying to find a point where it was aimed at Quemal's head. If I missed, there was the likelihood I would blow my own head off. In any case, I wouldn't get a second chance.

I said, “Tell Quemal that other people know I'm here.”

Quemal mumbled something, and Tania said, “Which other people?”

“I can't remember—”

With only my index finger and palm supporting the weapon, my hand began to tremble ever so slightly. I continued to move the barrel, my thumb now against the trigger.

“You must tell Quemal. Otherwise—”

I realized I wasn't sure where the bullet would go. But I also realized
I couldn't hold the weapon in this position for much longer. I had no other choice.

“All right, Tania. I'll—”

I squeezed back my thumb.

I wasn't prepared for what happened next.

The gunshot within the car was like an explosion. I was suddenly covered with blood and bones, Quemal's blood and bones—the result of the slug slamming into the back of Quemal's head and transforming his gray matter into gray mush. As Quemal's lifeless body sagged against me, the knife fell against my chest. Tania screamed. I pushed open the car door, shoved Quemal onto the ground and staggered out. Tania screamed again. Within seconds, someone moved out of the darkness and was standing beside me.

It was Sylvia.

“Are you all right?”

My golf jacket was covered with blood, mine and Quemal's, and I was suddenly dizzy. I picked up my knife.

I said, “Give me a second. I'll be all right.” In the other hand I was still holding the gun.

Pointing at Tania, who had just climbed out of the car, Sylvia said, “Who's she?”

“One of the girls.”

Grabbing the gun from my hand, Sylvia aimed it at Tania, who was no more than ten feet away. “We can't have her—”

As she was about to squeeze the trigger, I pushed Sylvia's wrist, ruining her aim. I don't know why I did it.

“She's seen everything. We can't—” Sylvia again lifted the weapon.

All I could focus on was Tania's face, her dark eyes, the smoothness of her skin, the delicacy of her thin lips—and her expression of fear and horror.

Sylvia was so close, she couldn't miss. Holding the weapon with two hands, she trained it directly at Tania. Just as she squeezed the trigger, I again jolted her arm.

Seeing her chance, Tania turned, then began running in the direction of the building. Still holding the weapon, Sylvia glared, rage
spilling out of her eyes. Fortunately, no one in the building seemed to have heard the shot, which, considering the loud music inside, wasn't surprising.

Pushing me in the direction of our vehicle, Sylvia went quickly back to the car, where Quemal's body was sprawled on the rear seat. She spent a few minutes doing something, but I wasn't sure what, perhaps going through Quemal's pockets. I fished the keys out of my pocket and walked toward our car, which was parked about eighty feet away. I still felt strange, and my cheek, at the point where Quemal had slugged me, felt like I had a dozen toothaches. I used a handkerchief to stanch the bleeding from the cut on my neck.