Book 2: Operation Detour

Episode 6

© by William Arthur Holmes

Warning: Adult Themes

You Call That an Explosion?

The rain has stopped, and Riva takes the opportunity to relocate to the other side of the factory. Once there, she has a nice overview of the building from the bluff above. She sees the evacuation now underway down below, with everyone moving to a safe distance away from the building. She curses and searches the crowd for Dobie.

She spots him through the binoculars as he walks to the far edge of the property. She can guess he is doing this in order to be seen from where she used to be.

He gives a thumbs-up and, as promised, Riva presses the detonator to blow up the factory. There is no explosion.

Dobie gives the thumbs-up again. She presses the detonator again. Still no explosion.

“Stupid,” she says aloud, knowing he can’t hear her. “Did you insert the wire?”

~ ~ ~

I didn’t insert the wire as Riva had instructed. My new friend Merican and I came up with a Plan B.

“I was able to rig an old hot water heater to explode,” Merican explains. “It will take a few minutes for the water to reach the correct temperature, then... boom! It will destroy the room, but just the room. It should cause sufficient damage and a big enough explosion to satisfy your people. So, in return...”

“...your payroll. I know,” I finish his sentence. “Let’s just hope this does appease them.” I shake my head and add, “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

~ ~ ~

When the delayed explosion finally comes, Riva is disappointed. “You call that an explosion?”

She waits for the police to show up. And waits and waits. After five minutes, she calls them herself. They arrive within minutes... with a TV news crew. Seeing the cameraman and reporter, she wonders if Serge had something to do with that.

~ ~ ~

“You said you wouldn’t call the police!” I complain to Merican.

“I didn’t!”

~ ~ ~

Standing next to her car, watching the police surround Dobie down below, Riva enjoys the relatively cool night air now that the rain has stopped.

But, as they handcuff her partner in crime, her mood falters. Watching him thrown roughly into the back of the squad car, her mood descends into darkness. A very painful memory gurgles up from the depths, and her mind lurches back to when she was thrown in prison.

Three Years Ago

Not quite seventeen at the time, Riva is in Belgrade, Serbia, standing trial for the murder of Dragomir Petkovic. The victim’s former bookie is on the stand, testifying posthumously as a character witness for the prosecution.

“For five years,” the bookie says, “Dragomir supported that poor girl.” He adds in a hushed voice, “She was his ‘love child.’ Most men would not have bothered, but he took good care of her.”

After an endless string of lies, the bookie steps down and it is Riva’s turn in the witness box. Speaking fluent Serbian, she says, “It is true I killed Dragomir Petkovic, but he deserved it! Since I was twelve – twelve years old! – when he bought me, Drago has been using me. Him, too!” she points at the bookie, now seated.

“Everyone thought I was his daughter,” she cries, “but I was his konkubina!”

Whispers buzz throughout the courtroom. The court guards keep their eyes on the bookie. Riva glares at the judge. He is smiling at her the same way that the deceased and his bookie once smiled at her.

~ ~ ~

Twenty minutes later the jurors have completed their deliberations and the bailiff is leading them back into the courtroom. The jury foreman hands the hand-written verdicts to the bailiff who, in turn, gives them to the judge, who reads them aloud.

“On the charge of murder in the first degree, the jury finds the defendant, Riva Petkovic... not guilty.”

Riva breathes a sigh of relief.

“On the charge of murder with special circumstance,” the judge continues, “the jury finds the defendant, Riva Petkovic... guilty.”

He turns to Riva and says, softly, “I am sorry, dear, but you must serve just a little bit of time in prison. But, if you cooperate and behave yourself, you will be out in no time.”

He winks and gives her his business card.

She is afraid to ask what this cooperation might entail, but can guess. Absently, doubting what good it will do her in prison, she takes his business card.

Two Years In

Serge maintains a relationship with prisons all over the world. “Treasure troves of free labor, among other things,” he says. And this is how he finds Riva.

He is sitting in the reception area of Centralni Zatvor prison, awaiting invitation into the warden’s office. Beckoned within, Serge drops a stack of the local currency in front of the old woman sitting behind an old wooden desk.

“Da!” she says, licking her lips as she picks up the money.

Three guards are sent to retrieve Riva.

“Three guards?” Serge asks.

The warden looks up, nods, and counts her money again, smiling wide.

~ ~ ~

Riva is curled up on her cell bed like a little girl, napping. One of the guards reaches through the bars, taking her by surprise, and secures handcuffs on her. They are lucky to have caught her napping. It would have taken all three of them to subdue her, otherwise.

Seeing this as his last chance for some fun at Riva’s expense, one of the guards now in the cell with her unzips his pants and inserts himself into her mouth.

Riva bites into it, and he shrieks as he falls to the cell floor, writhing in agony.

She smirks at her attacker as she is dragged off by the other two guards to see the warden.

An angry, disheveled and handcuffed Riva is brought into the warden’s office, where she is dumped in a hard wooden chair in front of the warden, to Serge’s right.

“You woke me from my nap!” Riva growls in Serbian. To Serge, she asks, “Are you my new master?”

When he nods yes, she spits on him.

“I am so sorry, Mr. Kolza,” the warden apologizes. “Are you sure you want this one? We have other, more compliant candidates available, though she is the prettiest one.”

Serge wipes off the spittle, laughing. In perfect Serbian, he says, “Not at all! I like this one’s attitude!”

“Did you get a receipt?” Riva asks.

Still laughing, Serge says, “Wouldn’t help. They have a no-return policy here.”

“Fuck you,” says Riva.

“Maybe later,” he looks her up and down. “Madame Warden is right, you are quite pretty.”

“I know.”

“Humble, too!” Serge shakes his head and laughs.

Back at the Factory

Present Day

Riva vomits at the thought of prison. Maybe it was the thought of Serge. She is reaching into her car for a tissue to wipe her mouth when her cell phone rings. She climbs in, sinks into the front seat, and answers the call.

“Congratulations!” Serge shouts.

She does not recognize his voice immediately. “Excuse me?”

“Mission accomplished. I am told your man has been apprehended.”

“Yes,” she now recognizes his voice.

“Are you alright? You sound like your dog has died.”

“That’s how it feels.” She has never owned a dog, but can guess what it might feel like. Unlike Serge, she has not lost all vestige of empathy.

“Are you kidding me?” he is yelling again. “This is how the world works. You are in the big leagues now. Has he become your lover?”

“Oh, God no,” she says quickly. “Not at all.”

“Then let him rot in jail! You will get over it by your next assignment, trust me. I speak from experience. You get used to it. My first assignment was similar to yours.”

She rolls her eyes, feeling one of his stories coming on.

“All of the technical preparations had gone well,” he continues, “as they have for you. Look at you. You got your man fired! Ruined his life! Made him go off the deep end! You have done very well.”

Riva smirks. “Can you not hear yourself?”

“You are not going soft on me, are you?” Serge counters. “This is not a business for the faint of heart. You are not in love with this Albert person, are you?”

“I said no!” she snaps. “But his name is Dobie... or Axel, depending on his mood. He is a strange one. But, no, he is ugly and too old for me. Arrogant. Thinks everything he says is funny. Slurps his food. Unattractive in every way. I am definitely not in love.”

“Good, don’t be,” Serge does not believe her. “You will get through this. You are almost there. Finish him off. Put this thing to bed. Have sex with him once, as I always do, if you want something to remember him by. Then get on with your life. You will have a great future with us.”

“Let him rot,” she says, not believing her own words.

~ ~ ~

That night in her hotel room, Riva is on the couch with a glass of wine, watching the local news report about the explosion and arrest. The anchorwoman is doing all the talking while her co-anchor shakes his head.

In Malay, the woman says, “There was a massive explosion with twelve workers dead at the MCK hard drive factory. Authorities blame terrorism.”

They show footage of Dobie being thrown into the police car at the factory, and another shot of him entering the police station.

The anchorwoman continues, “This man has been identified as an unknown Muslim terrorist with no previous ties to local terror groups.”

Her co-anchor quips, “Did you say ‘identified as unknown?’”

She shoots him a dirty look.

Riva shouts at the television, “Twelve dead? Nobody died!”

~ ~ ~

That night, Riva dreams that she and Dobie are in jail together, sharing a bunk. There is a struggle. Dobie is at her throat with a knife.

She wakes up in a sweat. It was just a dream. She scoffs at her own imagination. “As if....”

She cannot get back to sleep, she feels so guilty about what she did to Dobie. At the first sign of daylight, she calls Armin, the slimy politico. By the end of the conversation, she is saying, “The pleasure will be all yours, I am sure.”

He laughs as they hang up and calls the jail to fulfill his part of the bargain. In Malay, he gives the order, “Release the American!”

“Which one?”

“The patsy.”

“Which patsy?”

“The terrorist from last night!” he screams and hangs up.

The jailer slowly stands and stretches, hits his colleague’s boot with his baton, and strolls toward Dobie’s cell. There, with a smile at his partner, the jailer pulls out his belt, reaches into the cell, and slaps Dobie across the face with it.

Laughing, the jailer says, “They said we had to release him, not be nice to him.”

He opens the door and, as Dobie staggers toward him the jailer announces in Malay, “Anyone want to have sex with the American before he goes? It’s a freebie!” One of them starts moving toward Dobie, but Dobie recognizes that word and is out the door before anyone can get to him.