Black Flagged Redux by Steven Konkoly Read Free Book Online

during the Bosnian war. Now, Josif's family was in shambles. His father an absent, raging alcoholic and his mother a catatonic drone working several shift jobs in the outskirts of Belgrade. She refused to accept the modest amount of money Srecko had offered to keep them afloat. "Poisoned money," she would say.
    Josif started visiting Srecko during the early days of his incarceration at The Hague. Srecko immediately recognized the hunger and intelligence in his eyes. He soon arranged for Josif to stay close by in Amsterdam. Srecko had unfinished business and plenty of hidden money to keep an underground organization alive. More than anything, he needed loyalty that would not abandon him in his time of need.
    Josif walked briskly to the stone table. "Uncle," he said, and Srecko rose from the table to hug him with the cigarette still burning in his right hand.
    "My Josif. Have you brought me some good news?" he said, glancing at the hardcover book in Josif's hands and signaling for the young man to have a seat at the table.
    "Always good news, Uncle. And a gift. I know how fond you are of the Fruska Gora National Forest," Josif said and slid the book toward his uncle.
    "One of the thickest, most mysterious forests in the world. We used to take a lot of trips there, your father and I. Lots of good memories…and a few bad," he said and raised a knowing eyebrow at Josif.
    "I think you'll find page twenty-three to be your favorite," he said and looked away at the sky.
    Srecko opened the book and casually thumbed through the pictures, stopping once or twice to admire the picturesque scene of a forest engulfed village, or a hidden waterfall. He stopped on page twenty-three and his eyes narrowed to a reptilian quality. Page twenty-three was not part of the original picture book’s publication, but rather a cleverly-designed and professionally-inserted counterfeit addition. Designed to look the same in structure and layout, the half-page-sized picture had nothing to do with the Fruska Gora National Forest from an outsider's perspective. To Srecko, the photograph had everything to do with the forest.
    "This was taken recently?" he said, still staring intensely at the picture.
    "A few days ago in Buenos Aires. Our guy emailed the pictures while they finished lunch."
    "Do we still know where they are?" Srecko said and looked up from the photo.
    Josif lowered his head slightly in a subconscious deference to his uncle.
    "No. Once they started walking, our guy found it impossible to follow them without tipping them off. I'm sorry about that, but…"
    "No need to apologize, Josif. Never apologize. Not even to me. This is great work. It shows great patience and intellect, my nephew. Very important traits to have," he said, glaring at the picture.
    "They'll show up again. That bitch is predictable and has a taste for expensive things. She won't be hard to find. As for him, tell our people to be extremely cautious. This one is capable of just about anything."
    "What would you like to do about them, Uncle?"
    "I want them dead, but first, I want to know what they did with my money. I don't care what needs to be done to get this information out of them. They’re trying to indict me on charges that I ordered the systematic rape of over two hundred Kosovar whores…why not add another rape to the list? Or two."
    "We'll try for both, but what if we can only grab one?"
    "Grab the woman first. I can't stress to you how badly I want her to suffer…and I want to see it on video. I have a DVD player, and I'm getting tired of the usual movies."
    Josif grinned and stood up. "Understood, Uncle. I'll keep you informed. See you next week," he said and his grin faded into a deadly serious gaze.
    "You know, the security here is pretty terrible. I'm worried about your safety," Josif said.
    Srecko stifled a laugh at the audacity of what Josif had just implied.
    "Perhaps one day it will come to that, my nephew. For now, I'll let the lawyers work their magic. One