The Gaze of Caprice (The Caprice Trilogy Book 1) (48 page)

“Mr. Metayer, would you like to join me in my office,” said the man.

“Thank you,” said Xiaoyu.  Xiaoyu followed the man back to a corner office.  The double doors were foggy foam-green and the floor was light beige tile.  Before Xiaoyu noticed the room or the view, he noticed the noise.  A large brown-brick waterfall was on the right-hand side of the office.  The water fell out of a spout that was in the place of two bricks.  The water dropped a meter and a half straight down into a pool below.  The pump was at the back, recycling the water from the pool back up to the top.  The man passed his long mahogany desk grabbing one of his business cards from an antique cardholder.  He passed two cards to Xiaoyu.  The name on the cards was Aleksandar Stojanovic.  Mr. Stojanovic was identified as an architect and office manager.  The view behind his desk was of low-lying buildings in Novo Sarajevo and the hills having their way with the horizon. 

“First time in Sarajevo?” asked Aleksandar.

“First time, but I hope to come back sometime,” said Xiaoyu.

“Of course, now it’s the fall.  The warm days are numbered,” said Aleksandar, “During spring, the city feels so much better.” 

“Better for business too,” said Xiaoyu. 

“True, yours and mine,” said Aleksandar. 

“I agree,” said Xiaoyu, his voice projected over the sound of the waterfall.  The conversation was awkward.  It had the impulse of politesse but its tone was high and hostile, against the waterfall’s wild laughter.

“Then we’ll be glad to have you back in Sarajevo,” said Aleksandar.

“I’d like that,” said Xiaoyu, “Next time as well as this time the deal should be mutually accommodating.  I’m looking at $1,800 per piece of a two-hundred piece set.”

“That’s generous,” said Aleksandar, “It’s on the lower end of what I might’ve expected.  Any advice on why.”

“Much is ok, too much is a problem for any business,” said Xiaoyu, “Having too much money and not knowing what to do with it is the root of stupid decisions.  1,800 is worth the trip out here.  Any more and I might do something stupid.”

“Like what?” asked Aleksandar.

“Attract too much attention, buy a Ferrari,” said Xiaoyu, “I know how to hide $360,000.  I don’t know how to hide much more.  2,000 per would raise my purse to $400,000.  That’s an extra 40,000 of tail I’d have to cut off.  Do you know why we say La Belle France?”

“Why?” asked Aleksandar.

“Because we’re not that big,” said Xiaoyu, “We can’t say La Grand France.  There’s forty other countries that can say we’re bigger. We remind people it’s beautiful so they forget we’re not that big.”

“Still the Brits say Great Britain and they’re smaller than France,” said Aleksandar.

“A Frenchman is familiar with the exaggerations of the British,” said Xiaoyu, “But great and big are found in the same word in French. 
Grosse
could mean big but that could be interpreted to mean fat.  Once again, we leave that for the British to claim.”  Aleksandar smiled at the French lesson.

“My country is small so I stay small.  I stay hidden.  I stay safe,” said Xiaoyu.

“They say there is strength in numbers, but nothing about apparent safety,” said Aleksandar, “If your safety is found in the number 1,800.  Then we are agreed up to the point of your safety.”  Xiaoyu nodded.

“Where do you take the items?” asked Xiaoyu.

“We will handle that,” said Aleksandar, “All we need is to pick up the items on arrival.”

“The train will be arriving at 11:27 from Zagreb,” said Xiaoyu, “The car number is C320A it is the seventh container car after the passenger cars.  You’ll have to take delivery of the car yourself.  The paperwork is here.  The car is filled with gravel.  The items are a little over a meter deep.  It’s gravel so it aligns with your construction business.  All two-hundred items have trigger locks, I have the key to unlock them.  When you’ve picked up the items take them to the testing site.  Call me with the location and I meet you there to unlock the items for testing.”

“Understood,” said Aleksandar.

“What I do,” said Xiaoyu.  Aleksandar looked closer at the paperwork Xiaoyu gave him.

“Looks like everything’s in order,” said Aleksandar, “We’ll have someone come get you for the showing.”

“The down payment,” said Xiaoyu.

“Thanks for not letting me forget,” said Aleksandar.

“You’re welcome,” said Xiaoyu.

“Ten percent,” said Aleksandar.

“Ten percent,” said Xiaoyu.  Aleksandar turned himself around in his chair to a half safe.  Through a complicated procedure of handprints and codes, Aleksandar opened the safe and organized pieces of paper together.  Turning around Aleksandar put six stacks of bills on the desk within range of Xiaoyu.

“Six stacks of six thousand,” said Aleksandar.  Xiaoyu pulled a folded brown paper bag out of his jacket pocket.

“That’s how you carry $36,000?” asked Aleksandar.

“No, we’ve talked about this already.  This is how you hide it,” said Xiaoyu collecting the stacks into the paper bag. 

“I’m sure you have more engagements today,” said Xiaoyu, “I look forward to your call.”  Xiaoyu got up from his chair and left Aleksandar’s office, his footsteps masked by the sound of the waterfall.

• • •

Xiaoyu spent the next 24-hour period in his hotel room.  He bought sausage, bread, butter and tea at a local store.  He passed the hours lying on his bed, stretching and making sandwiches with black tea.  He got hot water from the hotel dining area.  The hotel lobby was empty but he didn’t doubt he was being watched.  He checked his room for listening devices and inspected the phone, nothing.  He didn’t want to venture out of the room because it would give any observer more inspection time.  They could visit his room.  They could watch him at a restaurant and send someone to talk to him.  There was a lot they could do and everything he did could be scrutinized.  Maybe he didn’t walk like a Frenchman, they could notice that too.  But he didn’t walk.  He stretched on the floor or he lied on the bed.  He didn’t do much else.  Like Georgia had said, he was all business.  He waited to collect the rest of his cash.  At night, he made a secured-satellite call to Mason.  Mason made the call a three-way conversation with a forensic artist at the CIA compound in Langley, Virginia.  Mason told Xiaoyu to describe everything he remembered about the buyer. 
Brown eyes
. 
Thin nose and lips
. 
Dark hair
. 
Strong jaw
. 
Deep lines under the eyes
. 
Around 184cm tall
.  
Scar just above the left eyebrow
. 

The artist scanned the database and came up with twenty-seven known possibilities in the Balkan Peninsula.  The catalogue was sent to Xiaoyu’s cell phone.  The sixteenth image made Xiaoyu pause.  It was an image of a younger Aleksandar, before the scar above his eyebrow.  The story how he got the scar was old intelligence, but the CIA hadn’t photographed him since.  Scars were part of the database requiring the artist to key them in as search, not program them into his sketch.  The sketch was accurate enough to retrieve an old picture of Aleksandar.  The trouble with the picture had nothing to do with its age and everything to do with it not being Aleksandar.  Aleksandar Stojanovic was a figment of the imagination of a younger man.  The younger man was a civil engineer in the Yugoslav People’s Army during the Bosnian Civil War.  His name was Jusuf Juric, a captain.  The photo of Jusuf Juric in the CIA database was his military photo when he enlisted.  The scar was missing because he was pistol-whipped by his commanding officer for his part in the mass execution of several non-combatants during the Siege of Sarajevo in February of 1994.  A few of the non-combatants were international reporters.  The pistol whip was public and public knowledge.  Shortly after the public reprimand, Jusuf Juric’s body was discovered.  The hands and head of the body were battered and burnt beyond identification, but with his uniform and dog tags.  Juric was never seen again and declared dead.  There were inconsistencies about the body found that lead many to believe that Juric was still alive.  The head and hands were badly destroyed but the rest of the body was relatively intact.  The one thing that stood out to the soldiers who discovered the body was the boots.  Jusuf Juric was a captain and civil engineer.  He didn’t see much action during the war.  The boots found on his body were badly worn and blood-stained.  Juric’s boots were and would have been in much better condition. 

The CIA had never declared Juric dead because his cause of death was left undetermined.  During the Siege of Sarajevo, the body and the uniform were enough.  Sarajevo in the early to mid-nineties wasn’t the place for formalities.  A dead body in uniform was a dead man.  If the dead man showed up, his story could be re-written.  But Jusuf Juric hadn’t shown up, until Xiaoyu confirmed the photograph of the young man was Aleksandar Stojanovic. 

“You’re sure,” said Mason.

“Sure because I saw him this morning,” said Xiaoyu.

“This changes things,” said Mason.

“Is Valgani still priority?” asked Xiaoyu.

“I don’t know,” said Mason, “I’ll need to think about that.  We may not just need to identify Valgani.  We may also need Valgani’s help.”

“You want the buyer as well?” asked Xiaoyu.

“Juric is a war criminal,” said Mason, “Finding him isn’t a win if we don’t bring him in.”

“What about the shipment?” asked Xiaoyu.

“It’s on schedule,” said Mason.

“I’m still trying to find Valgani?” asked Xiaoyu.

“Until further notice,” said Mason.  Xiaoyu and Mason hung up the phone at the same time.  Xiaoyu put his head down on the pillow and closed his eyes, but had trouble sleeping.  He kept his thoughts on Valgani.  Aleksandar Stojanovic had been identified already but Valgani was still an open question—open-ended.  Was Valgani interested in spying still?  Mitchum’s death had given Valgani a way out of being a double agent and a way back into the fold.  Reporting to Mitchum put Valgani at risk.  One thing was certain, Valgani was no longer reporting to Mitchum.  Xiaoyu thought of something chilling. 
Jusuf Juric is Valgani
.  It would explain why Mitchum had been so cryptic about Valgani.  Xiaoyu’s eyes opened quickly when he realized he forgot to remove the polymer bonded to his skin.  He sprayed his arms, neck and chest.  He used a towel to clear the skin-colored flakes and free his dragons.  When the skin paint came off so did Alain Metayer.  Xiaoyu returned to the spot he had earned, his bed.

Xiaoyu woke up earlier than usual.  Random thoughts went through his mind.  He cleared his thoughts like he had done before cage fights.  He made a sandwich out of smoked sausage and buttered bread.  It was late enough in the morning for hot water to be available in the eating area.  Xiaoyu retrieved hot water for his tea.  His breakfast was had in his room, only self-made sandwiches, nothing from the hotel’s buffet.  He spent the day in his room.  He had given Aleksandar all the information Mason had given him, enough to retrieve the shipment.  The phone in his room rang at two minutes to four o’clock in the afternoon.  It was reception, relaying a call from Filip Grebo.  Xiaoyu accepted the call.  Filip gave Xiaoyu instructions to wait on a red
Alfa Romeo
GTV Twin Spark
out front.  Xiaoyu dressed in the same jeans, same jacket but different shirt—blue with a collar.  He went to the waiting area and waited less than ten minutes before the red
Alfa
showed in front of the hotel. 

Going out the door, he could see a silhouette formed by the early morning sun piercing the tinted window from the opposite side of the car.  The silhouette seemed familiar.  If he had to guess he would have said it was Filip driving the car.  He opened the
Alfa
’s passenger door, proving himself correct.  He extended his right had toward Filip.  The two men shook hands without much interruption.  The door closed and the
Alfa
headed off toward Novo Sarajevo.  Filip idled the car in the parking lot of a four-story building that had long facades.  The building was still under construction, evident from the lack of cars, lack of landscaping and the
Sejad Mehmedovic AEC
sign in front.  Filip had the key to the door.  The elevator wasn’t operational so they took the stairs to the third floor.  The halls were unadorned sheet rock with nail heads still visible.  Filip and Xiaoyu walked down a long uncarpeted hallway and turned to see the other side.  A long corridor looking much like the one they had just walked across was waiting on the other side.   Brown paper was taped over the windows.  The vacuumed wrapped
FAMAS
rifles were organized on the far side, all 200 pieces.  Aleksandar and another man and woman were waiting.  Xiaoyu walked over to the weapons like he had seen them before.  He used a key in his pocket to poke through the vacuum-sealed wrapper.  He tore through the wrapping like an animal carcass.  Using a short round key, he unlocked the black device on the trigger guard.  The magazines were already in place. 

“Where’s your target?” asked Xiaoyu.

“There,” the woman pointed to the end of the corridor where a white and black paper target was mounted on a roll of insulation with cement bag reinforcement.  Aleksander started a circular saw and held it in his hand.