anytime, anyplace.”
Varick stared darkly at Santos. “So…let me see if I have all the facts, Santos. You decide to call Bruce to this rat-hole of a coffee shop, pulling him away from actual work—” Varick glanced at Uecker and Taz, “to socialize with these two .” Uecker rolled his eyes, while Taz bore no acknowledgement of the scathing tone. Varick paused. “And then, by coincidence, Bruce gets attacked?”
Santos gave Varick a calculating stare. “So, what are you trying to say?”
Varick immediately regretted saying anything at all. “Just making sure no details were left out.” He hastily changed the direction of the conversation. “Listen, I’m sure Roy can haul out the meat-bag on the floor and handle cleaning up the mess here.”
Roy scratched his head. “Yeah, sure I guess...but my clown car’s gettin’ real full.”
Varick nodded. “Bruce, you got my keys? Let’s take off.” Varick tried to act casual, but his thoughts still troubled him.
Bruce said his goodbyes to his new friends , Uecker and Taz, then left with Varick. Varick was fully aware that Santos had followed him out of the coffee shop, but did not acknowledge his presence until he was in front of his car. “You need something, Santos?”
“Well, a ride back to the manor would be nice—since we’re all going that way, after all.”
“How’d you get here?”
“You know, the usual: walked, scaled the buildings, flew low over the rooftops when the opportunities presented themselves...”
What irked Varick about Santos was that he knew he wasn’t joking when he said things like this. Varick sneered. “You can’t do ‘ the usual ’ back home?”
Bruce frowned at the two of them. “No w, what is a captain to do when his two lieutenants don’t get along?”
Santos appeared puzzled. “I have no problem with Varick.”
Bruce smiled. “Well, I’ll tell y ou what I’ m going to do…I’m going to make it a personal goal of mine. By the end of this year—no wait, by the end of this millennium!” Bruce now appeared positively gleeful. “You two are going to be able to tolerate each other. Maybe even become best buds!” Varick scoffed. Bruce placed one hand on Varick’s shoulder, the other on Santos’. “Either that, or I’ll put you both in traction.”
Varick gave Bruce a thumbs-up and a patronizing smirk. “Good luck with that, boss.”
***
Thursday, October 7th, 1999
Dubrava Prison, Kosovo, 6:00 p.m.
In was eerily quiet in the detention center. The only sound that could be heard was the steady drip of water, leaking from the ceiling. The monotony was broken by footsteps entering this particular wing of the prison. The prison guard’s footsteps echoed off the concrete, whereas the man following behind him made no sound at all. The guard stopped by a cell. “Zamir, you have a visitor.” Once the announcement was made, the guard left the wing.
Zamir Ristani was lying down on his bed with his eyes closed. The thin mattress was lumpy and uncomfortable. Upon hearing his name being called, he opened his eyes drearily. “Who’s there?” he croaked.
“Get up, Ristani.”
Zamir sighed and slowly crawled out of his bed. He leaned against the wall to face his guest.
“Do you know who I am?”
Zamir stared at the man. “Akira Luong...” He wasn’t very tall and had ghostly-pale skin. He could see the hint of a dark-green claw that reached out from under his white dress shirt to scratch his neck. Part of a tattoo . What Zamir found most striking about his visitor was his hair. It appeared to be natural, but it was a very strange shade of red that glistened under the dim lighting. Almost like blood...
“Do you know whom I represent?” Akira spoke in barely a whisper, but Zamir was able to catch every word.
“I have an idea…”
“Good—then we can skip the introductions. Explain to me what happened.”
Zamir looked at Akira, confused. “You know what happened.”
Akira’s eyes
Varick stared darkly at Santos. “So…let me see if I have all the facts, Santos. You decide to call Bruce to this rat-hole of a coffee shop, pulling him away from actual work—” Varick glanced at Uecker and Taz, “to socialize with these two .” Uecker rolled his eyes, while Taz bore no acknowledgement of the scathing tone. Varick paused. “And then, by coincidence, Bruce gets attacked?”
Santos gave Varick a calculating stare. “So, what are you trying to say?”
Varick immediately regretted saying anything at all. “Just making sure no details were left out.” He hastily changed the direction of the conversation. “Listen, I’m sure Roy can haul out the meat-bag on the floor and handle cleaning up the mess here.”
Roy scratched his head. “Yeah, sure I guess...but my clown car’s gettin’ real full.”
Varick nodded. “Bruce, you got my keys? Let’s take off.” Varick tried to act casual, but his thoughts still troubled him.
Bruce said his goodbyes to his new friends , Uecker and Taz, then left with Varick. Varick was fully aware that Santos had followed him out of the coffee shop, but did not acknowledge his presence until he was in front of his car. “You need something, Santos?”
“Well, a ride back to the manor would be nice—since we’re all going that way, after all.”
“How’d you get here?”
“You know, the usual: walked, scaled the buildings, flew low over the rooftops when the opportunities presented themselves...”
What irked Varick about Santos was that he knew he wasn’t joking when he said things like this. Varick sneered. “You can’t do ‘ the usual ’ back home?”
Bruce frowned at the two of them. “No w, what is a captain to do when his two lieutenants don’t get along?”
Santos appeared puzzled. “I have no problem with Varick.”
Bruce smiled. “Well, I’ll tell y ou what I’ m going to do…I’m going to make it a personal goal of mine. By the end of this year—no wait, by the end of this millennium!” Bruce now appeared positively gleeful. “You two are going to be able to tolerate each other. Maybe even become best buds!” Varick scoffed. Bruce placed one hand on Varick’s shoulder, the other on Santos’. “Either that, or I’ll put you both in traction.”
Varick gave Bruce a thumbs-up and a patronizing smirk. “Good luck with that, boss.”
***
Thursday, October 7th, 1999
Dubrava Prison, Kosovo, 6:00 p.m.
In was eerily quiet in the detention center. The only sound that could be heard was the steady drip of water, leaking from the ceiling. The monotony was broken by footsteps entering this particular wing of the prison. The prison guard’s footsteps echoed off the concrete, whereas the man following behind him made no sound at all. The guard stopped by a cell. “Zamir, you have a visitor.” Once the announcement was made, the guard left the wing.
Zamir Ristani was lying down on his bed with his eyes closed. The thin mattress was lumpy and uncomfortable. Upon hearing his name being called, he opened his eyes drearily. “Who’s there?” he croaked.
“Get up, Ristani.”
Zamir sighed and slowly crawled out of his bed. He leaned against the wall to face his guest.
“Do you know who I am?”
Zamir stared at the man. “Akira Luong...” He wasn’t very tall and had ghostly-pale skin. He could see the hint of a dark-green claw that reached out from under his white dress shirt to scratch his neck. Part of a tattoo . What Zamir found most striking about his visitor was his hair. It appeared to be natural, but it was a very strange shade of red that glistened under the dim lighting. Almost like blood...
“Do you know whom I represent?” Akira spoke in barely a whisper, but Zamir was able to catch every word.
“I have an idea…”
“Good—then we can skip the introductions. Explain to me what happened.”
Zamir looked at Akira, confused. “You know what happened.”
Akira’s eyes
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