16 |

Bosko Residence
Kwidzyn (formerly Marienwerder), Poland
Present Day

 

Stefan Bosko unlocked the rear door of his apartment, his head pounding, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He had slept in his car again, though was pleased to see he had made it home without any new damage.

I drive better drunk than sober.

He was convinced of this. It made him pay more attention since he didn’t want to get caught, though he could honestly say he had no recollection whatsoever of the drive.

He pushed open the door and kicked off his shoes at the top of the stairs, then began the painful trek to the basement apartment. To call it an apartment might be a stretch, since it was simply his parents’ basement, but it had its own door, so he had some privacy if he wanted to bring a chick home.

He scratched the stubble on his chin, wondering when that had last happened.

He heard something.

His eyes narrowed, the sound coming from below, as if from his television.

What the hell?

He hurried down the stairs and rounded the corner to find two men sitting on his couch, one playing Duck Hunt on his vintage Nintendo, and to his horror, both drinking his beer. “What the hell is going on here?”

A throat cleared behind him and he spun around, his heart hammering. He nearly pissed his pants as he noticed the handgun tucked into a shoulder holster, and he wisely kept his mouth shut. An iPad was shoved in his face, his Facebook posting displayed.

Milan was right.

His shoulders slumped as the other two men rose from the couch.

This is gonna hurt.

The man tapped Stefan’s head with the iPad. “Tell us everything you know, and you’ll live.”