Searching for Stolen Love Read online

  ***

  Before Jasmin knew what happened, I charged into the room holding a .38 Smith and Wesson. Then I pointed the gun at Jasmin's forehead.

  Jasmin laughed and started to get out of the chair.

  I pulled the gun’s trigger and a bullet whizzed by Jasmin's head. The bullet imbedded itself into the wall and kicked up a little dust as a deafening explosion reverberated in the room.

  Jasmin sat down again as he eyed me coldly.

  I began, “Jasmin; it’s been a week since I last saw you. Buddy, please have a seat. We need to talk. Keep your hands on your knees, so I can see them.”

  Jasmin obeyed and placed his hands on his knees as he studied Keith.

  Gun shivered a little in Keith's trembling hands.

  Jasmin was gauging his enemy as he sarcastically asked, “You know Keith, have you ever shot anyone? Have you killed anyone before? I have. I probably have killed thousands during the war, and perhaps a few hundred after the war too.”

  “Jasmin, I really don’t give a shit about killing someone. If you don’t answer my questions, then you’ll be my first murder. I want to know where Yelena is,” I demanded, but the heavy gun trembled in my hand.

  Jasmin just smiled.

  “Where is Yelena!”

  Jasmin replied, “I’m not sure. Maybe I do, maybe I don't. What’ll you do if I don't tell you?”

  “JASMIN, WHERE THE FUCK IS YELENA? I WILL KILL YOU IF YOU DO NOT TELL ME!” I screamed at the top of my lungs.

  “I’m not sure Keith. Last I heard; she ran away to Montenegro. She ran off with another man. It's a shame, really. I thought she was a nice girl or at least fuckable for one night.”

  “What did you say? With whom did she run away? Why Montenegro?” I shouted as rage vaporized the blood traveling through my veins.

  “Boss knows someone there. He sold her to someone. She’s the property of some dude in Montenegro, a dude who owns her pretty ass.”

  “WHO?” I screamed.

  Jasmin continued smiling and studied me carefully.

  I felt weak, and I didn’t stand a chance against an ex-soldier from the Bosnian army.

  “WHO!!!” I screamed again while my face reddened. Rage wanted to explode out of me.

  Jasmin just stared at me.

  I fired the gun again above Jasmin’s head.

  Then he answered calmly, “His name is Sasha. He’s our Russian connection.”

  “Why did you sell her there?”

  “Boss didn’t want you dating a Serbian woman. He wanted you to teach and write research papers. Your job is only to the university. Your wife and mistress are the university, not some Serbian whore you picked up at the coffee shop.”

  “What the fuck?” I exclaimed while confusion swarmed in my brain like angry bees.

  “Your job is the university, nothing more, nothing less.” Jasmin smiled slyly.

  “I should shoot you right here and now. Then carry your sick ass outside and burn you alive,” I shouted coldly while rage began pulsating through my brain, clouding my judgment.

  Jasmin laughed and replied icily, “Then just do it. Don't talk about it. Just do it.” Jasmin pointed to his forehead with his index finger and added, “Just do it. Put the bullet right here,” tapping his forehead with his index finger for emphasis.

  A fresh aroma of beef sausages sizzling in the skillet filled the living room. Jasmin's stomach began growling angrily.

  “What happen to Karl Carlson?” I demanded.

  Jasmin laughed again and muttered, “Oh, Karl. I remember him well. Oh, how could I forget about him? He was such an old horny guy who fucked anything that moved in Tuzla.”

  “What happened to Karl?”

  Jasmin just shrugged his shoulders.

  “What happened to Karl!” I screamed and fired another bullet from the gun.

  Jasmin didn’t flinch. He replied, “You’re running out of bullets, Keith.”

  “I just need one to kill you. What happened to Karl?”

  “Karl discovered information, fatal to his health.”

  “One last time. WHAT HAPPENED TO KARL?!!” I screamed.

  Jasmin started slowly, “We had trouble with a drug dealer. So Damir went to eliminate him. Damir and Adnan cornered him in a dark courtyard in a residential neighborhood. I stood back in the shadows. Adnan held him, and Damir wrapped his belt around his neck and stood behind him. Then Damir choked him to death.”

  “Why did you kill him?”

  “A drug dealer was skimming some of our money, so he had to go. No body steals from us.”

  “Who was he?”

  “Just some piece of shit named Vladimir.”

  “What does this have to do with Karl?”

  “Karl stumbled across us. He must have taken a shortcut through the courtyard. Adnan and Damir didn’t see him, but I did. He turned and retraced his steps quietly, but I caught him quickly.”

  “Then what happened?” I demanded.

  “I held him until Damir caught up with us. Damir put his gun to the back of his head and shot him. Then we dumped his body several blocks away and staged it like a robbery. That cheap bastard had only 20 euros in his wallet.”

  Then Jasmin burst out laughing that echoed throughout the quiet house.

  I couldn’t believe what I had heard.

  I faced Jasmin as my eyes widened. Then I stated, “I can’t believe this. The university held a wake for Karl Carlson, and Damir read a eulogy at the wake, and now you are saying that Damir killed him?”

  Jasmin’s grin became broader as he stated, “Bingo, you win the jackpot.”

  “Are you and Damir fucking sick? You murdered him and then held a wake for him?” I screamed.

  When Boris stated Damir popped a few screws, he meant it. Damir and his henchmen are some sick bastards.

  I remembered Karl's last conversation and funeral well...

  …on the night, Karl died; he called me on his cell phone around 9 o'clock. He sounded frantic and scared, out of breath. He saw something too unbelievable. He wanted to meet me in person and said be very careful. Our lives were in danger.

  I went to the Wall to meet Karl. The Wall was a rock-n-roll bar located in a basement on the south side of the city. Usually the students and professors stayed away from the place as loud rock music drowned out all conversations.

  Yelena and I waited hours for Karl to show up. Around midnight, the dean called me. I ran outside the loud bar so I could hear the dean over loud music. He said Karl was found murdered and demanded to know about Karl's activities, but I replied I didn’t know, of course.

  That week, the university officials and Bosnian police questioned me. They wanted to know what Karl did on his free time. Did he use drugs? Did he drink too much? Did he visit prostitutes? I screamed “No!” to all of this.

  Of course, I knew more about Karl's death then what I let on. I kept Karl's last phone call a secret from everyone except Yelena.

  Although his family had flown his body to Oklahoma, the university held a wake for him in the huge auditorium. A large framed picture was placed upon the stage to the right corner while two candle stands with large red candles were placed along both sides of the picture. Flames flickered in sadness as the faculty and students put flowers and wreaths around the picture.

  Many of the female students and staff cried while the men seemed confused and walked around in a daze.

  Yelena and I placed a bouquet of flowers by Karl's picture and subsequently sat down in the front row.

  Then Damir Kovacev gave a short eulogy.

  That was the first time I saw the university president.

  Damir wore a black Armani suit, and his bald head glistened from the overhead stage lights. Damir began, “It saddens me to be here today. We lost a great professor. Students and staff looked up to him because he was a great teacher who influenced many minds. His absence will never be forgotten while his contribution and hard work to the university will always be remembered. I
hope Karl Carlson will rest in peace. That God will look after him. Let us bow our heads in prayer and remember Karl Carlson one last time.”

  During the eulogy, Yelena held my hand and occasionally squeezed it. Then I would glance at Yelena, and mouth the words, “I love you…”

  …Boris entered the living room, holding an old tray with a fresh chevapi sandwich in the center.

  Before I could react, Jasmin leaped out of the chair and hopped on me.

  I pulled the gun’s trigger, but the bullet barely missed Jasmin's forehead.

  I crashed onto the ground with Jasmin on top of me while the gun slipped out of my hand and landed near the wall.

  Jasmin pummeled me in the face with strong punches.

  I thought I would pass out as each blow brought me closer to unconsciousness. Then before I knew what happen, Jasmin jumped up quickly and began scratching his face.

  Boris hit Jasmin in the head with an iron pan and then splashed a small vial of sulfuric acid into Jasmin's face.

  Jasmin began screaming.

  “Quick! Get the gun, Keith!”

  I quickly rolled over onto my hands and feet, crawling towards the gun. I picked the gun up and turned into a sitting position on the floor, pointing the gun at Jasmin.

  Jasmin sensed something was happening while the acid blinded him, burning his skin, blurring his vision. His face started melting like a plastic doll’s face submerged in a fire. Then Jasmin reached inside his jacket and pulled the gun out of the holster.

  “Boom!” as I pulled the trigger, and the bullet exploded from the gun.

  I scooted towards the wall, leaning my back against it.

  Jasmin fell down to the ground while a large, red splotch began to spread over the front of his shirt. Then Jasmin died, as God carried him home. Burnt flesh continued filling the air as the sulfuric acid continued to eat away at Jasmin's face.

  I tossed the gun down and began sobbing.

  “Keith, you did it. You must be strong. You must be tough to get your girl back. Do you want Yelena back? Keith, do you want Yelena back?” Boris screamed as he shook me.

  My tears stopped as the word Yelena brought me out of my hysterical state.

  “How can I find her? Where do I look?” I looked confused. I had trouble coping with my first murder, and I thought earning my Ph.D. was the highest, most memorable time of my life.

  “You already know the answer. First, you confront and kill Damir and then you go to Montenegro. He told you the name. His name is Sasha. How many Russian gangsters could be in Montenegro named Sasha? Boris answered confidently.”

  'How do I find Damir?” I asked weakly.

  “Nobody knows where he lives. However, return to the university. Damir is always at the university. If you see Adnan, you shoot him too. Don’t hesitate like you did today with Jasmin. Jasmin would’ve killed you if I didn’t intervene.”

  I sat leaning against the wall for an hour while my buttocks became numb from sitting on the floor.

  Pungent, burnt smell from Jasmin's flesh permeated all the fresh air in the house.

  I bent over and vomited the chevapi sandwich, forming something that resembled a white, chunky puddle of gravy on the floor.

  Boris brought some strong Turkish coffee and held the cup to my lips, so I could drink it. My hand trembled as I reached for the coffee cup.

  After a few minutes, the burst of caffeine helped me regain my energy. I started to get up and shake the sleepiness from my legs. I felt pinpricks and numbness in my legs, and the nausea in my stomach began fading and dissipating.

  Boris entered the living room again and sat in the armchair across from me.

  Jasmin sprawled out on the floor between them. Acid charred his face into a black molten mess, and the room stunk from an acrid, burnt smell.

  “What do we do about Jasmin?” I asked, regaining my composure.

  “Don't worry about him. Once you leave, I’m going to blow this place up. I’ll make it look like Jasmin accidentally blew himself up. Then my wife and I will disappear. We’ll flee Tuzla forever.”

  I staggered a little when I stood up. Then I grabbed the gun and turned to leave, but Boris quickly got out of the chair and grabbed my hand.

  “Before you go Keith, take this with you.”

  I glanced down at the bags clenched in Boris' hand and saw five small packets filled with a thousand tiny white pills.

  “Boris, I can’t take this. I’m not a drug dealer. I don’t even use drugs.”

  “I’m not asking you to sell it. You may need it in Montenegro. That ecstasy is worth fifty-thousand euros. You can use it for a bargaining chip to get Yelena back. Nobody will help you for free, but you can use this to buy some friends. Most of the women kidnapped from Romania go as cheap as 1,000 euros. I’m sure you hand them these packets to someone, and they will take you seriously. Nobody will help you for free, not in Eastern Europe.”

  I reluctantly grabbed the bags. Although I abhorred drugs, I wanted Yelena back. If I had to use 50,000 euros in illegal drugs to get her back, then I will gladly pay the price.

  I searched Jasmin's coat pockets and found the car keys to the Skoda in his left coat pocket.

  I ran down the stairs and opened the front door. I felt the cold morning air worked magic on my composure as the icy fingers of coldness massaged me and restored my composure.

  I ran to the car and first peered in through the dark, tinted windows, making sure no one hid inside. When satisfied no one was there, I went to the car’s back and opened the trunk and saw a small, brown, leather brief case.

  I placed the bag of drugs in the trunk and then tried to open the briefcase, but the small locks wouldn’t bulge. I searched the trunk and found a crowbar. I jammed the crowbar into the closed lips of the briefcase, but it wouldn’t fit. Then I pounded the locks using the crowbar as a hammer, and the cheap locks quickly unlatched.

  I didn’t know what to expect, so I slowly opened the briefcase, expecting snakes to strike. But, instead, I saw three bundles of 100-euro notes instead of slithering snakes.

  I quickly grabbed the money and counted it, 30,000 euros.

  I slid the money into the front inside pocket of my winter coat and threw the briefcase toward the nearest oak tree. I hid the bags of drugs under the spare tire.

  Then I unlocked the Skoda sedan and sat in the driver's seat and I started the car. I honked the horn a couple of times.

  After ten minutes, Boris appeared, walking fast. He reached the passenger side, opened the door, and jumped onto the passenger seat. “Let's go now,” Boris screamed as he slammed the door.

  As I pulled out of the driveway, an explosion ripped through the house, blowing the windows out and tearing a large hole through the back wall. Then flames engulfed the whole house, consuming it within minutes.

  “Don't worry about Jasmin. He’s gone now.”

  “Drop me off near the university. I’ll take the bus home and disappear. You go find Damir. If I were you, I would go to the university first. Like I said, don't talk to him. Just shoot and kill the insane bastard.”

  I drove in silence the six blocks into town. Nearing the university, I pulled over to let Boris out.

  Boris turned to me, “Keith, thank you for saving me. I pray that you succeed and get your girlfriend back.” Then Boris held his hand out for a handshake. I vigorously shook his hand.

  Then the door slammed shut, and Boris disappeared.

  I pulled back on the road and headed to the university to confront the president of the Bosnian University of Management.