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Aidan turned off the unit, disconnected the phones, and packed it up.
The courier service would be arriving shortly.
22
Two days left…
Farmers Market, Osijek, Slavonia
1 March
Thursday, 7:35 a.m. local time
This high-traffic location was their designated meeting spot.
A horde of people already swarmed the crowded market, weaving their way around Marc, Danijel, and Danijel’s informant, Valmir— whose name Danijel had provided after getting his permission during the long car ride from Zagreb. The offering of a name, plus the fact that the CI had dropped the hood of his work coat and exposed his face, were two key signs that the guy was starting to trust Marc.
Of course, the additional five hundred American dollars Marc had given him in the car hadn’t hurt.
As they waited for Valmir’s uncle to arrive, Marc surveyed the area, duly impressed by the volume of people and the extensive size of the market. All around them were tables with overhanging umbrellas, and despite the winter weather, the tables featured an astonishing array of fresh fruits such as apples, oranges, grapefruits, and pears, as well as imported bananas, pineapple, mangos, avocados, and coconuts. There were also fresh vegetables on display—spinach, carrots, potatoes, sweet potatoes, and many types of local salads—not to mention goat’s and sheep’s cheese, homemade jams, and on the periphery in refrigerated cases, cured meats and fresh poultry. The wares spread out in a kaleidoscope of color, texture, and eye appeal, and the loud voices of the salespeople beckoning the shoppers to their wooden tables to taste and to buy were interspersed with conversations of friends who clearly met here on a regular basis, mothers with their children in tow, shoppers bargaining for a better price, and tourists who’d come to visit this regaled Osijek stopping point.
It was easy to remain invisible in a place like this.
“May I ask Valmir what to call his uncle?” Marc asked Danijel. “All I need is a first name. Since this man will be taking over from here, it sure beats ‘hey you.’”
Danijel’s lips twitched. He relayed Marc’s request to Valmir, who hesitated, then said, “Jozef.”
Marc nodded. “Hvala.”
Danijel’s brows rose as Marc thanked Valmir in Croatian. “Picking up the language, are we?”
“Trying my best.” Marc touched his ear. “But I still need the benefit of a pro on anything more than a few words.”
This time the pro involved was Ellie, their second translator, who’d accompanied Philip to this meeting and would be talking in Marc’s ear. Despite the fact that Derica had more experience in undercover operations, Ellie spoke fluent Albanian as well as Croatian—an asset that Marc and Philip had agreed would be crucial given the players involved and the potential strategy that lay ahead.
Marc was keenly aware of the moment when Valmir’s chin came up, his gaze finding someone in the crowd.
“I think we’re on,” he murmured.
“Indeed,” Danijel concurred.
The men waited as Jozef zigzagged his way through the sea of shoppers and made his way over. Marc noted the family resemblance at once. Jozef had the same long face and prominent features as his nephew, although he wasn’t as stocky and his shock of black hair was turning gray.
He reached the group, glancing quickly around as he did a onceover scan of the area. He then hugged his nephew and turned to the other two men, greeting them with a nod.
Valmir spoke to him in rapid Albanian.
Ellie’s voice sounded in Marc’s ear. “Valmir is explaining which of you is which and reminding him that neither of you speak Albanian so they can talk freely to each other during this meeting without either of you understanding. Otherwise, they plan to use Croatian, for obvious reasons.” She gave a whisper of a laugh. “Valmir also told his uncle that you gave him five hundred American dollars in the car in addition to the thousand you handed him last night, and that there’s even more to come. He said they could both make out quite nicely from helping you out—not to mention avenging Valmir’s brother’s death in the process.”
Jozef was replying to his nephew, and Marc distinguished the name “Sallaku” in his response.
“Jozef is asking if Valmir is sure Zarik Sallaku’s people are responsible for the kidnapping,” Ellie translated. “He’s also making sure you specifically mentioned Slavonia as the region where the girl is being held.”
“Po,” Jozef replied with a nod. Marc didn’t need Ellie’s skills to figure out that meant yes.
Jozef ’s eyes hardened and he turned to face Danijel, switching over to Croatian.
“I loathe Sallaku and wish him dead.” Ellie’s voice resounded in Marc’s ear. “It’s the main reason I agreed to help you. The other reason is the generous payment I expect to be offered.”
