Page 61 of The Devil's Ransom

Eventually he came to an intersection with a much smaller road, one that he knew the tour bus wouldn’t take. He cut left and wound through a maze of side roads, getting to a house that was within spitting distance of Klis Fortress. He pulled the car into a little concrete pad off the road, the parking area clearly homemade, given the roughshod nature of the work. He exited, locked the car, and stared off the way he’d come, the coast of Split splayed out before him like a map laid on the table. He turned to the house, seeing the Klis Fortress above it, a construct of stone that was imposing even now, in the twenty-first century.

Built on a razor edge of a ridgeline and running for over two football fields, it commanded the entire countryside. It was amazing to him even in his modern world, where skyscrapers touched the heavens. He couldn’t imagine what those in the past thought of the fortress. Or how they actually managed to build the damn thing so high in the mountains.

Its past was lost on the world stage, relegated to Croatian local history, but had been given new life with the HBO seriesGame of Thrones. HBO could have built a set in Hollywood, but instead decided to use something real, and the fortress became one of the set pieces of the entire series, creating a magnet for tourists, which Branko found a little disgusting.

A great many people years ago had built the fortress to protect the coast of Dalmatia, and all it was known for now was as a setting for a city that didn’t even exist in the real world. He wondered if the people who’d died building it would relish the new tourists who came for no other reason than to see a backdrop they’d already witnessed on their television screen.

He walked up the path to the front door, the house they’d rented built into the side of the hill itself. Pushka had been right: this abode made of rough brick and pine boards was nowhere near as sexy as the operational headquarters in Split, but it didn’t need to be. He didn’t care if it had high-speed Wi-Fi or whether the satellite dish for the television worked. All he wanted was a functioning toilet and stove for his men.

He banged on the door and it was opened by a man about the same age as him, with the same ratty attire. He said, “Hey, Drago, how’s the house?”

“It’s better than Zadar, but that’s not saying much. Not sure why we make so much money only to sit in shitholes like this.”

Branko pushed through the door, saying, “One more week. We’re about to hit the mother lode.”

“Apparently we’re hitting the mother lode right now.”

Branko turned around and said, “What’s that mean?”

“Pushka texted. We have the gateway and the target. He’s implanting now. Apparently the customer in the United States is talking to him over chat.”

“Chat? What chat? I just left his ass.”

Chapter34

Sitting in a parking lot next to an outdoor café, Shakor was watching one of the many roads that led off the main highway from Split, the Klis Fortress towering over him as if it were upset by the intrusion. He knew this effort was a long shot for success, but it was all he had. He felt his phone vibrate. He pulled it out and saw a simple text:

Target acquired.

He smiled, texting back,Meet me at the fortress parking lot.

Chapter35

Sitting in his computer laboratory at Liberty Crossing, Dylan Hobbes saw a new person enter the chat window, the screen alerting him with a mackerel smacking his avatar in the face. Literally, a female in a bikini holding a fish came forward and smacked him on the screen.

He typed,Whois this?

He got back,The man in charge of this entire cell. How did you get in this chat room?

Andrei. I’m the one calling the shots, and I’m talking to Pushka.

Five thousand miles away, in a crumbling safehouse outside of Split, Branko was about to lose his temper. He typed,Youdon’t call any shots.

Pushka came on, aggravating Branko, saying,He’s given us the gateway and the target. I’m working it now. It’s big. He is, in fact, calling the shots.

Branko typed,I don’t know who you are, but best case, you’re a customer. Likeyouassholes in America like to say, I can refuse service for any reason whatsoever.

Branko waited on the bubbles of the chat window to clear, then read,Refusethis and you’ll lose an enormous payday. Have you seen the target?

Pushka typed,He’s right. It’s big. Biggest one ever.

Exasperated, Branko typed,Pushka, I’m coming back now. Shut up.

Then the target package came through, with Pushka saying,Open this.Take a look.

Branko did, and saw a target that would create a world of hurt. It was the private space company Auriga, owned by one of the richest men in the world. A spectacle of greed and celebrity, with the high potential to be the biggest payday ever.

He typed,Wedon’t attack government facilities. We only target private companies. And we don’t target anything that has the potential for lethal harm. It’s why we don’t attack hospitals. This is a no-go.

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