Casca 44: Balkan Mercenary, page 18
Toloba’ mouth dropped. “How – how did you find that out? Did he tell you?” Toloba pointed to the prone man at his feet.
“No – I’ve known for years. You see, dipshit, I’m part of his family. The Longini. My grandmother started the Swedish branch after World War Two, and we use pseudonyms to keep our identities from the likes of you. Linderroth isn’t my true family name, as you’ve by now no doubt worked out. You’re probably one of those Swords of God, assassins in the employ of that evil organization. I just wanted to see your face when I told you we know all about you, and that we do what we can to exterminate you from the face of the world.”
“Then you shall be wiped out yourselves; you go against the will of God; it is you who are evil incarnate.”
“Fuck yourself,” Linderroth said. “You’ve got a goddamned twisted view of the world and anyone who does not share it you call evil. The irony is that it is you who are evil, yet you refuse to acknowledge it. On behalf of my grandmother Isabella Longini, I sentence you to death, you prick.”
Toloba snarled and grabbed the knife in his belt and was pulling it out when Linderroth’s shot took him in the chest. Toloba gasped and staggered back, falling over Lonjic. He slid sideways and fought to get to his feet, still gripping his knife. As he got to his feet Linderroth’s second shot pitched him into the far wall. Toloba stared in agony at the ceiling, his bloodied hand forming a claw and digging into the plasterwork.
Switching to automatic, Linderroth gritted his teeth and sent the entire magazine into the quivering body of the brotherhood agent, spraying his body fluids over the wall in an orgy of red splashes. Toloba’s corpse slumped to the floor, barely recognizable as being human.
The Swede allowed his arms to drop, the M70 in his right hand, the barrel smoking. He gave Toloba one long last look of disgust, spat on him, then turned to the still form of Lonjic. Dead. But not for long, as he knew. Best get him out of there and to a place of safety before a Serb patrol happened by.
He cast an idle look over at the remains of Vardaric, slumped head forward in the chair, more blood than anything else. He grimaced, then turned to face the prone figure of Lonjic.
He slung the M70 over one shoulder, sank to his haunches, then pulled the dead weight of Lonjic up. Resembling an Olympic weightlifter, Linderroth got Lonjic onto his shoulders, settled, then rose to his feet with a grunt, red-faced. This man was a solid lump of bone and muscle. With one last look at what remained of Toloba, he carried his leader out of the house.
___
Waking up was a long, slow process of pain and drifting into and out of consciousness. A gruff voice reassured him, and kept on dribbling water into his mouth. Lonjic – Casca – groaned in Latin and complained he was tired and should be left alone. The voice responded, also in Latin, to remain still and drink.
It was dusk when Lonjic finally woke with full awareness. He was in a clump of trees overlooking a long, straight road that ran into infinity. The sky was a ruddy glow, the hills beyond a stark black shape beneath. A few birds called out as they flew to roost. It was an incredibly peaceful moment.
Then he recalled being shot. His hands went to his clothes. They had been patched up. The pain was faintly there but mostly gone, but the stiffness in his chest muscles lingered. He knew the marks would be there, from the two wounds he’d received, but in a few days he’d be as good as new. The blood lost would already have been replaced and he was good enough to get up and go.
He saw the burly shape of Linderroth sitting by the fire, looking out over the slumbering vista of Bosnia, reflecting on something or other. “How long have I been out?”
Linderroth turned his head. “Two days. You were delirious.”
“The others?”
“Toloba shot you. I shot him. That pig is keeping Lucifer company. Mendez and Godan made their own way out to Croatia.”
“Toloba – I intended killing him,” Lonjic croaked. “He murdered Rrallos and Knai at the ambush point.”
“I know – he was always a bad one.”
“How did you know? I knew when I saw their bodies at the ambush – bullet wounds in the back, not the front. You never saw their corpses.” Lonjic reached out a hand for Linderroth’s bottle, and the Swede passed it to him.
As the Eternal Mercenary took a long pull of the refreshing water, Linderroth shrugged. “I mistrusted that Czech fucker right from the start – any member of their secret police has got to be bad. When the Serb militia kept on finding us, it was clear someone was giving us away. Also the radio – he was the only one near my pack the last time I knew it was intact. I don’t understand though why he sided with them. He couldn’t give a damn about Serbia, Yugoslavia or Croatia. He always had his own agenda.”
Lonjic grunted, handing the bottle back. He didn’t know how much he could tell the Swede. “I think we’ll never know – he let me interrogate Vardaric, so clearly he wasn’t on his side. Poor de Klerk and Baja, they died never knowing who had betrayed them, or why. Up in the cabin – the Serb and Vardaric getting loose from their bonds, clearly he was responsible. Don’t know what he told them, but the Serb wasn’t to know Toloba was going to kill him.”
“A risk we all take in our line of business,” Linderroth commented. “Like you – he nearly killed you. You’ve got the constitution of an ox; you must have, recovering that quickly! You’ll be ready to walk tomorrow, incredible though it may seem.”
“Yeah, quick healer, me,” Lonjic grinned. “So what of you? What are you going to do now?”
“Oh, collect my pay in Zagreb, then maybe home for a while, then off to another job. Beer is expensive in Sweden; I need to keep working.”
They both chuckled.
“We’ll hopefully meet up with Mendez and Godan in Zagreb, and get our well-earned cash. I just hope it was worth it all – Vardaric is no more, but will it really stop the slaughter of civilians here? We should really go after Arkan, too.”
“Then you’d have to include Milosevic and the other crazies. Some people are untouchable; the UN doesn’t like public executions, even if it’s the bad guys.”
Lonjic nodded. He had what he wanted. Vardaric had talked back there. Those responsible for the death of Yu Li and the destruction of his nest in the Cameron Highlands had all been revealed, and it made his skin crawl. Five senior diplomats and an army chief. Vardaric had given away the fact they had been following Brotherhood orders, so whether any or all of them were part of that sect he didn’t know, but he’d track them all down and take care of them.
“We’ll set off in the morning. By then I’ll be fit enough,” he said, flexing his arm. The bullets would have either been dug out or had worked themselves out. Probably the former – it was too soon for the other.
___
They swam across into Croatia the following day and hailed an army truck at a checkpoint. The Croats were suspicious at first but once the two mercs had been handed over to an officer and their military police had arrived to escort them, things had relaxed enough for the two men to be given back their weapons. They were driven to Zagreb and handed over to a government official who took them into the Ministry building, disarmed and once more in civilian clothes, and debriefed them.
Lonjic was separated from Linderroth, and he wondered whether he’d see the Swede again. He owed the big bearded man a huge favor, but would he ever get the chance to repay it? Sat across the desk from him was Kadlecs, as anonymous looking as before. No van der Klopp this time, or Mandaric, just a shorthand clerk, a grey looking man of middle age who was unimportant.
“A successful outcome, Mr. Lonjic,” Kadlecs said, clasping his fingers, “even though it took longer than anticipated.”
“And was a damn sight messier than it should have been,” Lonjic said, crossing on leg over the other. “Your security was a shambles. Your contact in Belgrade clearly had been got at.”
“Yes, we regret that – we believe he had been captured the week before the mission and then turned. He clearly was under orders to not advise us of the armored cars. Even though his orders from us was only to advise when the convoy left Belgrade, it would have been easy to work out an ambush was planned. We can only thank God that the point of ambush could have been any one of a number of places.”
“Yeah – although it didn’t take a great deal of working out it would come close to the border.”
Kadlecs shrugged. “The JNA didn’t know if it would be by land or air, or in fact a roadside device. And of course they didn’t waste time flying aircraft over head as that would have alerted us they knew.”
Lonjic pointed at the Croat. “And what of Toloba? He killed two of my men and two more died thanks to his betrayal of our position in Bosnia.”
“That was not our problem – he had a personal agenda. Did you find out what it was, by the way, or was he merely insane?”
Lonjic looked up at the cornice running along the corner of the ceiling. Intricate plasterwork. “Let’s say he was insane. Easier all ways round.”
Kadlecs sighed. “Very well. That shall be recorded. Your payment has been sent to your bank if you should wish to check. Croatia thanks you.”
“What difference did it make in the end? Serbia is still advancing; they are still killing your citizens. Arkan is still at large. Vukovar is going to fall and nobody is safe.”
“You would not believe the message it has given out; the death of Vardaric and his group of criminals has been hailed by the diplomats – covertly of course – and has given the Germans and Austrians added weight to bring pressure to bear on the Americans and British to back our cause. They will recognize Croatia before long, believe me.”
“So Milosevic isn’t dissuaded from using Arkan and other murder squads?”
Kadlecs shook his head. “Worse is to come, believe me – but Croatia needs foreign aid in munitions and supplies. Killing Vardaric has given us a huge amount of credit with the other nations. He was a despised man, and many agencies had him on their hit list. By eliminating him, you have made it possible for Croatia to receive military hardware in our fight against the Serbs and the JNA.”
“Don’t tell me – via Switzerland?”
Kadlecs smiled by way of reply.
“Of course,” Lonjic said heavily. “So the mission was never to send a message to Belgrade; it was to send one to the UN or the EU.”
“Both, hopefully. Anyway, the first shipments have arrived and our forces are being supplied even as we speak. Training more men will now take place, and once we have enough armored vehicles and aircraft we will be able to keep the Serbs at arm’s length.”
“And regain lost territory?”
“Oh,” Kadlecs laughed, “that may take longer. For now we must hold them off. The war will then switch to other places.”
Lonjic eyed the Croat. “Bosnia?”
“Bosnia.”
“God help them.”
“A war fought by proxy is more agreeable; neither Serb nor Croat territory is then destroyed.”
“But Serbs and Croats will die, as will Bosniaks and all others in that country.”
Kadlecs shrugged. “And war will continue until all sides realize they cannot make any further progress and return to the diplomatic table. Until then, we will need people like you, Mr. Lonjic. We may call upon you again.”
The Eternal Mercenary heaved himself to his feet. “I’ll have to think about it, Mr. Kadlecs. In the meantime, I’m going to have a little break and do something for myself for a change. Goodbye.” He hesitated. “Oh one more thing; the leak that betrayed us came from here.”
“Impossible!” Kadlecs slapped a hand on his desk.
“Why not? It was one of your radio clerks in the intelligence section. A Serb mole. Passed on the basic info to Belgrade. I suspect he’s been doing it to all your missions. I have no idea which one it is, but I would think you’ll find him in no time. You can’t conceal that sort of thing for long. I’ll leave that for you people to deal with – I’ve had enough of meting out that kind of justice for the time being. I need a rest. Farewell.”
Kadlecs stood and shook hands and watched as the square-built man left the room. “Good luck in your hunt – you won’t find them, but good luck,” he said softly.
___
Thousand miles away the chilly snow-filmed city of Stockholm sat in the late autumn sun, the picturesque capital of Sweden sat astride the rippling waters and islands. On the southern shore, leaning against a metal rail, stood the burly figure of Linderroth, his breath clouding before him.
A slim, aged woman came walking up to him from behind, swathed in furs and a coat. He half-turned and grinned behind his frost-coated beard. “Hello Grandmother,” he greeted her, and they embraced.
“Arne,” she said, her voice that familiar deep purr he loved so much. He’d seen pictures of her when she had been in her twenties and thirties and she had been incredibly beautiful. Austrian, he knew, who had emigrated to Sweden during the Second World War. She had done some secret intelligence stuff but she never spoke of it. She was the undisputed head of the family here in Sweden, and all three branches of the family, the Longini, were loyal to her and their mythical founder, Casca Rufio Longinus.
“Come walk with me,” she requested, holding out her arm for her grandson to take. Together they walked along the roadside, overlooking the city, and talked when nobody was close. “So, Arne, tell me, how was it? I’ve seen your letter, but it’s another thing to hear from you first hand.”
“What do you wish to know, Grandmother? The fighting? The journey? The Brotherhood?”
Isabella Longini shook her head. “No – tell me about him. You were with him for weeks – how was he, what did he say? How did he look, act, talk?” She desperately wanted to hear about the man she had fallen in love with when she had been a young girl, and then had actually met – and made love to – during the frantic early days of the war. She still kept secret the fact she had seduced him in that hotel room in Amiens, but she just had to do it. It had been fabulous; he was a legend, a myth, a fantasy, and she had actually done it with him.
“Oh, a man like any other, yet not like any other. Charismatic, yes, a leader, certainly. But he is someone I would willingly fight alongside. I’m glad you ordered me to join his mercenary band. By the way,” he looked at her sharply. “How did you know he was going to be on that particular mission?”
Isabella smiled, her aged and lined face wreathed in wrinkles. Her light blue eyes were still bright and piercing, but age had left its mark on her features. She still was an attractive woman, though, even though she was into her seventies. “I wouldn’t normally bother to tell you – but in this instance, since you did wonderfully well, I’ll give you a brief precis. As you know, our family is based in Switzerland, and we have an active branch in Austria. It is from there we heard about Croatia organizing a hit on Vardaric, and we knew from previous occasions that our founder had a special cause to wish him dead.”
She huddled deeper into her coat. Her car awaited her, a warmer place, but for the moment she wanted to speak to the man who had been with her idol. “We had an agent in place and he suggested contacting Casca. From there it was easy to arrange.”
“An agent?”
Isabella smiled. “That person’s identity is remaining a secret, I’m afraid. We also have contacts in the secret service of Switzerland and we got to hear that some outside organization was asking questions about this particular mission, so we knew we had to send you in. I’m sorry we didn’t know who it was, but we thought you would be able to cope.”
“My training with the Swedish army stood me in good stead,” Arne Longini conceded. “So, what now? What am I to do next?”
Isabella stopped and looked her grandson in the eye. “Train some more, keep fit. We will no doubt have another mission for you or your brothers very shortly. Whatever the Brotherhood tries, we must block them.”
“Killing Toloba was a pleasure,” Arne said softly.
“Just don’t get too used to it, Arne. Remember Nietzsche.”
“Oh, yes. Do not stare too long into the abyss lest thou become a monster thyself.”
“Precisely. So, tell me, how are you? I hardly get to see you these days,” she said in a much lighter voice, tugging her big bear-like grandson off the sidewalk across the road.
Arne smiled and went with her, knowing that now was the time to talk of inconsequential things rather than war, death, destruction and Casca. So it should be, he reasoned. Time for that in the future; for now he would enjoy his time with the magical woman he held in awe.
Casca series available in ebooks
By Barry Sadler
Casca 1: The Eternal Mercenary
Casca 2: God of Death
Casca 3: The Warlord
Casca 4: Panzer Soldier
Casca 5: The Barbarian
Casca 6: The Persian
Casca 7: The Damned
Casca 8: Soldier of Fortune
Casca 9: The Sentinel
Casca 10: The Conquistador
Casca 11: The Legionnaire
Casca 12: The African Mercenary
Casca 13: The Assassin
Casca 14: The Phoenix
Casca 15: The Pirate
Casca 16: Desert Mercenary
Casca 17: The Warrior
Casca 18: The Cursed
Casca 19: The Samurai
Casca 20: Soldier of Gideon
Casca 21: The Trench Soldier
Casca 22: The Mongol
By Tony Roberts
Casca 25: Halls of Montezuma
Casca 26: Johnny Reb
Casca 27: The Confederate
Casca 28: The Avenger
Casca 30: Napoleon’s Soldier
Casca 31: The Conqueror
Casca 32: The Anzac
Casca 34: Devil’s Horseman
Casca 35: Sword of the Brotherhood
Casca 36: The Minuteman
