Chapter XXII

Konjic, Yugoslavia

MADDUX ADJUSTED HIS TIE and smoothed back his hair around his ears. The long road trip from Bonn had left his clothes slightly wrinkled and rendered his hair unkempt. Looking sharp was critical to the new operation. He grabbed the crate from his trunk, hoisting out the bottles before setting it gently onto the ground. With a final scan of the area, he put his hands on his hips and looked at Dex.

“You think this will work?” Maddux asked.

“First time adopting an alias?” Dex responded.

“No, but I’ve never assumed one this far behind enemy lines.”

Dex knelt down and tied his shoes. “You’ll be fine. Just keep it simple and stay calm. If Jankovic is into this stuff half as much as Bearden said he is, we should just be able to walk in there and take Pritchett.”

“But didn’t you say things never go as planned?”

Dex chuckled. “I didn’t coin that phrase, but it certainly can apply to anything we do, especially on a mission like this.”

“Well, for my day job, I do try to sell cars to people.”

“That’s hardly your day job any more, in case you haven’t noticed. I’ll predict in six weeks, your time spent at Opel will be merely window dressing for the KGB agents sniffing around.”

Maddux shrugged. “Maybe, but I like my job there.”

“Yeah, but you like this job more. Besides, it suits you better.”

“You think so?”

“Look, you’re relatively new to all of this espionage business, yet you managed to shake my tail the other day. That doesn’t happen to me. You’re the one who is just getting started here, yet you pulled off something very few people have been able to do when I’ve been following them. It may not mean much in the grand scheme of things, but it means you’ve got a natural knack for this business. You also have some passion for it, too. And that’s rare to see these days.”

“If I’m being completely honest here, my passion is fueled mostly by my quest to find my father,” Maddux said. “I appreciate the kind words, but I’m not sure this is what I want to be doing twenty years from now.”

“In this business, just to be alive twenty years from now is a goal worth setting. And it means you’re doing something right.”

Maddux looked down at the crate before snatching it up and lugging it along as they walked toward the gate.

“French wine,” Maddux said, shaking his head. “I can’t believe this is Bearden’s big idea, even less that it will work.”

“Well, you don’t know how much Jankovic loves his French wine. In some reports I’ve read, several agents have suggested that he might be willing to trade prisoners for his favorite.”

They neared the gates.

“You ready?” Dex asked. “Once we knock, there’s no going back.”

“Let’s go get Pritchett.”

Dex rapped on the gate, drawing the attention of a guard.

“State your name and business,” he said in Serbian.

“I am Julien Durand here with my esteemed colleague Antoine Moreau,” Dex said. “And we’re here to speak with General Jankovic about some wine that we have available to him for a special price.”

“Give me a minute,” the guard said before scampering away to find Jankovic.

“Think he’s buying this?” Maddux asked. “I still think the general might find it fishy that someone just comes and knocks on this gate trying to sell him some wine.”

“I happen to think he’s going to relish the opportunity to buy wine right here without having to travel into the city to get it.”

“This whole mission is counting on you and Bearden being right about this,” Maddux said.

“And it’s also counting on you to deliver as a wine salesman. I make the introduction; you close the deal. That’s how this works.”

Maddux nodded. “Have you ever tried this stuff?”

“Once,” Dex said. “I drank some at a party once while tailing a Russian ambassador who turned out to be a KGB agent.”

“How was the wine?”

“It was good, although I wouldn’t say it’s worth the price you pay for it. But I’m a pretty simple guy who’d prefer a beer over anything else. You ever try it?”

Maddux shook his head. “I like wines, but I prefer a good glass of Scotch over any other drink, to be honest. However, I know enough about wines to be dangerous, maybe even get us in and out of trouble.”

“I’ll settle for the getting out of trouble part today.”

They both stopped talking as the sound of rocks and dirt crunching under feet rapidly approached. The gate creaked as a guard swung it open. He pointed a rifle toward them, motioning for them to come inside.

Dex put his hands up and spoke in Serbian. “Can you please point your gun elsewhere? We are just wine salesmen making a special delivery for General Jankovic.”

The guard obliged. “This way.”

He led them through the prison, which Maddux observed to be more of a camp than a prison. There were high fences, but the prisoners were engaged in activities vital to the existence of the camp. Behind one building, a guard and two prisoners were hosing down pots and pans. Across from them, more prisoners carrying linens under the watch of a guard streamed into another structure. To Maddux’s right, he heard the buzzing of a saw and the clanking of hammers. Maddux didn’t remember reading about all the peripheral activities when perusing Bearden’s report on his time at the Konjic prison.

Lugging the crate of wine, Maddux continued scanning the area for any other helpful intelligence regarding how the prison operated. He found the lack of yelling most odd, concluding that the facility was run more like a low-security detention facility than a tightly controlled prison. If the KGB was helping manage the prisoners, it wasn’t with its well-documented iron fist.

A man who appeared to be in his early 50s approached Dex, Maddux, and their escort. Putting his hands on his hips, the newcomer furrowed his brow.

“General Jankovic,” the guard said, nodding respectfully at the prison head. “This is Julien Durand and Antoine Moreau.”

“So you are the two wine salesmen,” Jankovic said in English.

“You speak English? We can speak Serbian if you prefer,” Dex said.

“No,” Jankovic said, shaking his head. “English is a far better language to use when discussing wine. And I hear you have some of my favorite, no?”

“Mouton Rothschild, vintage 1945,” Dex said, grabbing a bottle from the crate and handing one to Jankovic.

Jankovic inspected the bottle for a moment to see if the label was authentic. “The victory year wine,” he said with a sneer. “Are you trying to get me in trouble?”

“I’m sure once you taste this wine, you won’t care when and where it came from—and neither would anyone else you offered it to.”

Jankovic shrugged and continued to study the bottle of wine. “Very well then. Let’s convene in my office.”

They walked about a hundred meters back toward the entrance and then entered a building near the front. Jankovic led Dex and Maddux inside, offering them seats. Jankovic settled into the chair behind his desk and continued to look at the bottle.

“Before I buy, I try,” Jankovic said. “That is my motto.”

“Always sound advice,” Maddux chimed in.

Jankovic reached into a desk drawer and produced a wine glass. He held it up to the light and proceeded to polish it. Satisfied that it was clean, he opened the top drawer and pulled out a bottle opener. He stood as he worked it into the cork before removing it with a loud pop. Wasting no time, he poured a generous portion and swirled it around before drinking.

When he was finished, Jankovic smacked his lips and let out a contented sigh. “Now, that is what I call a good glass of wine.”

“Not an excellent glass of wine?” Dex asked.

“I don’t like to use words like excellent,” Jankovic said. “What if something better comes along? I choose to use my superlatives carefully.”

Dex eyed Jankovic. “So you like it?”

“I love it,” Jankovic said. “How much do you have?”

“How much do you want?”

“We have two dozen bottles, but—”

“I’ll take them all,” Jankovic said.

“Are you sure? This wine isn’t cheap.”

Jankovic chuckled. “I have money. I’ll pay you what it cost. That’s why you came here, no?”

Dex nodded. “This sounds like a deal. Unfortunately, I don’t have all two dozen wine bottles here today. I only brought six and they come in individual crates.”

“That should be enough for tonight,” Jankovic said with a laugh and a wink. “You can bring me the rest tomorrow.”

Dex and Maddux followed Jankovic outside. Maddux felt satisfied that their reconnaissance mission inside the prison had been a success. He had a better idea for how the prison operated and what opportunities they had for sneaking Pritchett out. However, that was the lone item missing from their checklist: confirm Pritchett’s presence.

As they walked across the yard, Maddux scanned the area and spotted Pritchett before he disappeared behind one of the buildings. He was wearing his hook, which was covered by what looked like a wine cork.

“General, we will need some help carrying the crates back inside,” Maddux said. “Would it be possible to borrow some of your men to help us with them to speed the process along?”

Jankovic shrugged. “No problem.” He turned toward one of the guards and gave him instructions.

Three prisoners hustled over to help tote the wine to Jankovic’s office. Maddux handed over the crates, saving one for himself and Dex. Jankovic escorted the group.

Maddux nodded toward Pritchett. “Did you capture a pirate?”

Jankovic furrowed his brow. “I don’t talk about the prisoners with outsiders. Understand?”

Maddux nodded. He had hoped to get Pritchett called over to them by Jankovic, maybe even have him make Pritchett do something. But that clearly wasn’t going to happen. After placing the wine crate on Jankovic’s desk with all the others, Maddux turned toward the door.

“We will return tomorrow with the rest,” Dex said. “You can pay us then.”

“I will have the money ready,” Jankovic said. He ordered one of the guards to show Dex and Maddux to the gate.

Once outside, they climbed back into their car and headed to their hotel.

“That went well,” Maddux said, glancing in the side mirror.

Dex shifted gears. “We got inside, if that’s what you mean. But I didn’t see Pritchett.”

“You didn’t? He was out in the main yard, visible for about ten seconds or so.”

“What was he doing?”

“Looked like he was working with the linens.”

“Is it me, or does that place not look like any prison you’ve ever seen? All the prisoners just seemed way too compliant, especially if they were apprehended by either the SDB or the KGB. They usually aren’t criminals at all.”

“So, what? They’d all be angry and give the guards a harder time?”

Dex nodded. “Exactly. But these guys were all just happy as could be, calmly carrying out their tasks as if it was something they enjoyed doing.”

“Think they’re experimenting on them? Maybe some mind-control techniques?”

“Maybe. I just know something isn’t right.”

Maddux glanced in his side mirror again. “That isn’t the only thing that isn’t right. Looks like we’ve got a tail.”

Dex cursed as he downshifted. “What does this guy want?”

“Why don’t you lose him? This car can run.”

“That would defeat the purpose of everything we just did. We’re trying to build Jankovic’s trust so we can possibly get Pritchett out of there. If we run, he’ll suspect us.”

“And if we don’t, he’s liable to have us shot on sight, if anything just to get his hands on that wine.”

“He won’t do that because he’d hate to have his reputation tarnished among wine sellers across the region as someone who just might murder them. He’s going to pay us.”

“Unless we were made.”

“Nobody made us, that much I’m sure of. Just let me handle these guys.”

Dex drove calmly back to the hotel as they discussed their options for getting Pritchett out. After a few minutes, their car lurched to a stop in the hotel parking lot, and the guard who had been following them skidded to a stop in the spot to their left.

“Did you secure the weapons in the hiding spot?” Dex asked.

Maddux nodded. “But that doesn’t mean he won’t still find them.”

“Well, if he does, we’re done here—not to mention that he might kill us.”

“I’ve got an idea. You do the talking, but follow my lead.”

Dex shot Maddux a sideways glance. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

The two agents stepped out of the car and looked in the direction of the guard. He opened his door and stood. Maddux estimated the man to be at least six-foot-three, maybe even taller.

“Can we help you?” Dex asked in Serbian.

“My boss sent me to check on you, to make sure you were real wine sellers,” he said, struggling to speak in English.

“We’re definitely real,” Dex said. “Would you like to touch us?”

The guard cracked a faint smile. “Open up your trunk.”

Dex walked around to the back and slid the key into the lock, turning it until the latch gave way and the trunk sprang open.

“Have a look for yourself,” Dex said, gesturing toward the trunk.

Maddux slipped inside the main office and grabbed a cup of coffee. No cream, no sugar. Straight black, just like he took it. But this cup wasn’t for him.

Maddux crowded up next to the guard, who was rifling through everything that had been stuffed inside.

“Not much in there but dirty clothes and fine wine, quite the combination,” Maddux said.

The guard spun around, hitting his head on the trunk as he did. He let out a slight yelp in pain before turning to face Maddux. However, Maddux had encroached so close into the guard’s space that he didn’t see the cup of coffee. Maddux’s drink spilled all over the man, resulting in louder yells.

“Hot, hot,” the guard said, hopping around from one foot to the other.

“I’m so sorry,” Maddux said. “Let me get you something to dry off with.”

Maddux rushed inside and returned shortly with a towel he got from the man at the front desk.

“I hope this helps,” Maddux said, blotting the guard’s jacket. “I really hope you don’t get in trouble for going back to the prison with a soiled jacket.”

The guard waved Maddux off. “It’s fine. Tomorrow the linen truck comes and cleans our uniforms. No one will notice.”

“You don’t do your own laundry?” Maddux asked. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“Only the guard’s uniforms are cleaned outside the prison. It keeps the prisoners away from our uniforms.”

“So they won’t pull a prank?” Maddux asked.

The guard furrowed his brow, as if searching for the meaning of the word. “Prank?”

“A joke you do to someone to embarrass them or get back at them,” Maddux said. “Ever heard of it?”

The guard shook his head. “No, but I know what you mean.”

“Well, I apologize again for spilling coffee on your shirt,” Maddux said. “I hope you have a good day.”

The guard arched his eyebrows. “You think I am finished? I haven’t checked underneath here yet.” He tapped the bottom of the trunk.

Dex shot a glance at Maddux, who shrugged.

“Sometimes people try to deceive us. But they never deceive Boris.”

“Boris?” Maddux asked.

The man tapped his chest. “I am Boris. And if you are hiding something, I will find it.”