All Necessary Force

could get any worse, and I had nobody to blame but myself. I wished I’d really taken it to the fake bum. Meet his ass again and I’m going to rip him apart.

41

Suffering the indignity of a full-on body search, Kamil offered no resistance, noting the security surrounding the person he was to meet. All were rough-looking men, and none had lowered their weapons, even after he had given them the introduction letter provided by Rafik.

Paranoid.

He was deep in the Czech Republic countryside, one hour outside of Prague, the only structure a large stone house rising through the morning haze a quarter of a mile away. Completely on his own. He could feel the sweat build under his arms despite the morning chill. They could bury me out here and no one would ever know. But the man he was to meet was worth the risk. Without him, Rafik’s grand operation would be stillborn.

By all accounts, Draco Ljustku was a ruthless killer, a leader in the Albanian mafia precisely because no other challenger could match his amoral ferocity. But it hadn’t always been that way.

Originally a farm boy living in central Kosovo, he had become a fighter in the Kosovo Liberation Army after his family was slaughtered by Serbian Special Police. Through that quirk of fate, he had learned that he not only had a talent for violence, but also a taste for it.

The KLA itself was inexorably intertwined with crime; it was one of the few ways for the rebellious force to gather income for their fight. Drug running and prostitution were as much a part of their makeup as any nationalistic tendencies against the Serbs. When the conflict finally ended, the organized crime did not.

Draco’s skills on the battlefield had proven to be useful in this arena as well, and he had worked his way up until he was the kingpin of a vast territory that included the city of Prague. But such distinction came with a price, namely the threat of a violent end, so Kamil became as compliant as possible lest one of the thugs around him decided he wasn’t worth the trouble. Everything went fine until he was addressed by a man with a lazy eye.

“Give me your cell phone.”

Kamil reflexively looked behind him, as the man’s eye was focused over his shoulder, and he’d already had his phone taken from him. The man snapped. He grabbed the back of Kamil’s head, holding it in place while he forced the barrel of a pistol into his mouth.

“You think you’re funny, sand nigger? You want to laugh at me?”

Kamil gargled, feeling a tooth chip on the front sight post. Unable to talk, he desperately waved at his original driver, convinced he was about to die.

The leader of the security force intervened. “Enough. I had the driver from Charles Bridge throw it out. He doesn’t have one. Load him up.”

Lazy Eye removed the pistol from his mouth and glowered, a comical look given his bouncing focus, but Kamil dared not break a smile. He followed the leader into the first vehicle, watching the man talk on a radio and probing his tooth with his tongue.

They wound down a gravel road to the stone house, Kamil in the middle with a man on either side. Reaching the circle out front, Kamil saw three men standing on the front stoop. The car stopped and Kamil was treated to a facade of welcome. Exiting the car under his own power, without being pushed or dragged, he was immediately hugged by a bear of a man, then kissed on both checks.

“Welcome to the Czech Republic. I am Draco. I trust your travel was uneventful?”

Kamil found himself staring into the piggish face of a man a head shorter than himself. His eyes were sunk back into his head, like a couple of turtles withdrawing into a shell. His right cheek had a puckered scar that ran through his upper lip. The repair to the wound had been crude, with the lip slightly uneven, giving him a permanent snarl.

Kamil grasped his outstretched hand and was startled to find the man was missing the last two fingers. He covered up the surprise, determined not to make the same mistake he had with Lazy Eye. Draco still caught it, but only made a little joke.

“Yes, a gift from the Serbian Police. Their way of saying hello. It’s okay, though.” He pointed his index finger at Kamil and mimed shooting a pistol. “I still have the important finger. The one that pulls the trigger.”

He then laughed as if it was the funniest thing he had heard in a long time. Kamil chuckled along with him, wondering how on earth Rafik had become associated with this man.

“Come inside. Let’s talk about your troubles and how I can help. You and I are very much alike, and we Muslims must stick together.”

Kamil fought to prevent his disdain from showing. I have more in common with the Great Satan’s soldiers than I do with you.

Draco continued while they walked, saying, “Someone followed you today, I pray not because you wanted them to.”

Kamil snapped his head around, remembering why he was here. “Followed me? Are you sure?”

Draco smiled at the reaction. “Yes, I’m sure. And they were very good. If I hadn’t sent my men, more than likely you’d be captured now. But no worries. They have nothing to go on.”

“That’s why you had me call my men. Change hotels.”

“Yes. And you’ll need to do that each night if you wish to continue with me.”

Passing through the foyer, Kamil found the house dripping in opulence, a testimony to the empire Draco had built. Winding through a maze of hallways, they eventually entered a large study with an oak desk studded in leather and several comfortably overstuffed chairs. Draco circled behind the desk, saying, “Have a seat. Can I get you something to drink? Perhaps some pleasure while we do business?”

Like magic, a man appeared bearing a tray with an assortment of alcoholic beverages. Behind him another man led in five girls, teenagers from the look of them, none older than nineteen.

Kamil felt his temper flare but maintained his composure. “No, thank you. I’m sure you understand.”

“Come on. You’re not at home and I’ve seen how the Saudis act once they’re out of the kingdom. Don’t feel like you owe me. It’s my pleasure. If you don’t like what you see here, I can bring more.”

“No. I’d prefer not. Can we please discuss why I came?”

“Suit yourself. You won’t mind if I do, though?”

Without waiting for an answer, he pointed at a brown-haired girl. She shrank into the wall until prodded by the man who’d brought her in. She slowly made her way around the desk, then sank from view. Kamil could hear the rustle of clothing and the soft clink of a belt buckle. He could barely see the top of the girl’s head. The other man, along with the girls, left the room. He began to feel sick to his stomach.

Draco sighed and looked at the ceiling. “You really should try this. They’re still very fresh. Not like that trash you find in the city. If you don’t like what you saw here, I have quite a few more downstairs.”

Kamil found himself unable to speak, the rhythmic motion of the girl’s head disgusting him. Allah the merciful, what have we done? He felt unclean, and wondered if the end result of their operation would be enough to overcome the means they had used. For the first time, he feared for his future in the afterlife.

Draco leaned over and whispered something in the girl’s ear, her head never stopping its hypnotic motion. He then said, “Okay, now how may I help. I’ve been told through my friends in Pakistan that you require explosives. Is this true?”

It took a moment for Kamil to realize he was being addressed. He felt his fists clench. He couldn’t believe the man was talking about operational matters in front of the girl. Then the implication sank in, sickening him further: She was going to die, her only transgression being that she was forced to service this monster. With superhuman effort, he restrained himself from launching across the desk and killing Draco with his bare hands.

Draco saw the object of his attention and said, “Ah, you’re reconsidering my hospitality?”

“No,” Kamil managed to squeak out. “No, no, no.”

“A pious one, huh? I can respect that. I wish I could have the strength you and your kind possess.” He patted the girl’s head. “But I’m afraid I’d be a hypocrite.”