The Dorić Diaries Ch. 02

"The Director will waive the fine if you are willing to work for him in his office for six months," Papa said looking at Sasha.

"Work for him? What does he want me to do?" Sasha asked, genuinely surprised.

She had never been inside an office let alone having any experience working in one.

"Enough! This is going too far, Papa! Tell me you are not considering this madness," Petar hissed, "Don't you see where this is leading?"

"What do you suggest, Petar? Sell the farm and move? To whom do we sell and where do we move to? Did you ever stop to think that if you hadn't lost your head that this may never have happened?" Papa spat out, "What do you want to do now? What? Beat this man to death also? And what would that get us? You in jail and we lose the farm anyway -- how does that help?"

They glared at each other and then Papa was silent staring down at his plate of half-eaten dumplings. He pushed the food around, uninterested in his dinner, and then placing the fork down, he spoke again.

"I wish there was some other way but there isn't. She is not staying with him ... she works for him in the office -- nothing else! Andelko can take her there and bring her back."

I looked at Sasha and then at Petar. He was fuming.

"I can do that, Petar. If it will help us, I can work for that man. And it is only for six months!" Sasha interjected hoping to ease the tension which was escalating.

"This land and the farm have been in our family for as long as I can remember. It belonged to my father and his father before him and his father before him and his before that! We are not going to lose it ... not now, not ever!" Papa said softly.

"You don't really think it's going to end with her working for him, do you?" Petar responded.

"I don't know. I have no idea how that will end. However, what I do know is that certain things here have to end and it is time for Sasha to meet other men!" Papa's eyes bore into his eldest son.

Petar didn't say anything but got up pushing his chair back abruptly so that it fell over and rattled against the stone floor. He looked over at my mother before leaving the table.

"Petar! Petar, don't go ... please come back!" Mama called out to him but he disappeared into the darkness. Then she turned to Papa and said, "Why are you always so hard on him? What has he done that we all haven't?"

The ensuing silence was deafening. Mama stood behind me with her hands on my shoulders while Krissy and Laura sat still, staring at their plates. The ticking of the old Grandfather's clock in the living room, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, was like the incessant dripping of a leaky faucet until Sasha took off her apron and without a word, ran after him.

"It is time for her to find a man before things get out of hand. Sisters and brothers have to put an end to their childish games. You, more than anyone else should know that," Papa said to us but he was looking at Mother.

There must have been some history that we weren't privy to which made sense to my parents but was irrelevant to us. We hated seeing Sasha upset but it dawned on all of us that our parents were aware of our incestuous indiscretions all along. I wondered how Laura and Krissy would react to this latest development and whether this would put an end to our sexual explorations. I hoped it wouldn't but I wasn't sure anymore.

I waited until Papa had left the table before looking up at my mother. She tousled my hair and smiled.

"Go help your sisters," she said and kissed my cheek.

My sisters and I cleared the table in silence and we avoided looking at one another. There was nothing more to be said and once they began washing the dishes I ventured out into the dark towards the woods. The thought of Sasha working for that freak was unsettling. What would Grandpa Stefan have done? Surely there was something I could do?

"Are you okay, Andy?"

It was Krissy. She took my hand in hers and we walked towards the barn in silence. I suddenly felt all this love for her.

*******

"I have met the warriors from the North and have done battle with them. In the shedding of their blood I have gained their respect. They fear me and have let me be. I am as elusive as the Eastern Wind and as fierce as the Wolf and in my lair, I am Master. And my enemies know it." An excerpt from a Norse Poem

The Rendezvous

Petar Dorić wasn't a superstitious man. He stood alone in the darkness in front of his grandfather's grave. The light from the kerosene lantern cast strange, formless shadows that twirled and cavorted like demons dancing in the night but it had no effect on him. He could hear the howling of the wolves in the distance, their plaintive cries carrying over the soft rustling of the leaves, calling out to him. He knew that the time had come for him to settle this once and for all.

He crouched and sat back on his haunches and looked around at the building which was once his grandfather's house. It was gone and now all that was left were the dilapidated ruins lying disjointed and broken amongst the creepers and overgrown grass - a skeletal reminder of a thriving life that once was.

"I wish you were here, Grandpa, I could have used some help about now!" Petar said out loud.

He sat still for about twenty minutes before picking up a small pebble and placing it on the headstone.

"I'll be seeing you soon, old man, keep the fires burning!"

And picking up the lantern, he was gone.

*******

Atonement

Lucian Dragovic was nervous. The day before, he had spoken to Mislav Dorić about the fines and taxes owed to the State and the offer for his daughter, Sasha, to pay down the debt by working in his office. Lucian thought that he was being reasonable and generous and it seemed like a fair exchange, but the man had been non-committal. He had sat in the chair in front of his desk, answering in monosyllables until finally he got up and left with the grudging assurance that he would consider the offer; nothing more.

"I'll need an answer by tomorrow, Mr. Dorić, one way or the other." Lucian had said to the farmer as he was leaving, "This office ..."

"You'll get my answer when I have considered all my options. No sooner than that!" was the terse reply cutting the Director off.

Lucian didn't respond. He watched the big man leave. He hated these filthy peasants. Who did they think they were? Damn, ignorant bastards. I have half a mind to send the Serb to pay them a visit. Yes, El Tigre would teach them a thing or two about respect.

Now as he sat gazing out the window, he constructed the next step to his plan. He would have Sasha Dorić no matter what and he would fuck her but good. The thought of impaling that beauty excited him and he felt his cock stirring in anticipation. He picked up the phone and called in Andro Bogdanic.

Before the phone was back in the cradle, his assistant was in his office.

"Good morning, Director!" the fat man said beaming obsequiously.

"Close the door and sit. Sit down, Andro ... we need to talk," Lucian waved his assistant in.

He studied the rotund figure seated in front of him, amused by his comical demeanor, before continuing, "We need to convince Dorić. Send a message so he understands. I am getting tired of this game and maybe it's time to call the Serb and have him ..."

Just then the door to the office flew open and in stepped Petar Dorić. The very sight of him sent jolts of panic through the hearts of both men. When confronted by danger, fear of any kind, especially irrational fear, drives reason and rationale from the brain and reduces it to an instinctive state. Fight or flight!

Now as an extreme fear gripped them both they jumped out of their seats and moved back, cringing against the wall. Flight! But they were trapped within the confines of the office. The last person they had expected to see was Petar Dorić and they watched dumbstruck as the blond Hercules shut the door behind him and snapped the lock in place.

"I warned you to leave my family alone," Petar said softly, "but you wouldn't listen. Now, I'm here to impose the consequences of your indiscretion!"

"Listen, Dorić ... you-you have no right to be here! You have n-n-no right ... y-you had b-b-better leave!" Lucian managed to stutter.

"Shut up and sit down!" Petar snarled and pushed the Director back into his chair, "My sister is not a commodity to be bartered for, you sniveling bastard! I know all about Lidija Jurić and what you did to her!"

Then turning to the assistant he hissed, "You can leave, fat man ... now! Get the fuck out of here!"

Lucian felt his throat constricting and the tightness in his chest choking the very breath out from him. He couldn't speak and was having difficulty breathing. Lidija Jurić! That fucking whore! His mind raced back with alacrity.

She had been with him for two weeks and on the last day he had a few of his friends come over and they had pulled a train on her. They had tied her to the bedposts, spread-eagled and had taken turns while they others drank and played cards in the living room. Then later, their inhibitions mitigated by alcohol, they had gangbanged her. The bitch loved it! She was begging for more! There was some rough stuff but no one really got hurt ... it was all part of the fucking game. She knew it. His mind was racing trying to connect the dots -- how did Petar Dorić know the girl? How much did he really know?

He watched as his assistant moved gingerly towards the door. He wanted to scream: don't leave, please don't go but he couldn't speak. The muscles of his vocal chords were frozen. His voice had betrayed him. He felt his panic mounting, his heart thudding in his brain. Calm down, calm down, this man is only trying to scare you. You are the Director of Regional Affairs. The Director ... the Director ... reason with him. You can bribe him ... they can be bought ... you are the Director ... control ... you have control ...

Then as Bogdanic neared the edge of the large desk, Petar reached over and grabbed his shirt:

"Leave and never come back. There is nothing here for you anymore. If I see you again I will kill you! Do you understand?" he hissed at the assistant and shook him like a hound shakes a rabbit then repeated, "Do you understand?"

"Yes sir, yes sir ... I swear on my mother, you will never see me again! Never! Please don't hurt me! Just let me go ..."

Petar released him and closed the door behind the assistant then dropped the dead bolt home and turned to face the Director. There as a moment when the streaks of light lit up the back of the blond man's head creating an apparition, a visual blending of fantasy and madness - the brilliant Archangel of Retribution here to collect on the many karmic debts.

Lucian Dragovic began shivering uncontrollably. The reality of his situation tore through the fog that had enveloped his brain: he was now alone with this maniac. And then it happened, he felt the warm wetness spreading down his thigh -- he had lost control of his bladder.

*******

Adios, Motherfucker!

Later that day they found the Director in his office with his neck broken. He was leaning back in his chair his eyes staring sightlessly up at the ceiling. His mouth was partially open and stuffed full with balled up paper and there was an expression of sheer terror on his bloodless face. On his forehead was scribbled in the faded ink of a blue ballpoint pen: "For Lidija Jurić".

Closer examination at the coroner's revealed that three of his fingers on his right hand had been bent backwards and snapped from their knuckle joints.

Not many in the regional offices mourned his passing nor did anyone recall seeing a blond stranger who may have paid the Director a visit. His superiors were relieved that their conniving subordinate was a thing of the past. There would be no investigation. That would be too risky, after all, who knows what they would dig up? No, the best and most convenient course of action was to forget the whole incident and find a replacement soon; someone who was more suitable for public service and who could cover up this mess. And despite the rumors, accusing a Dorić would be counterproductive to the efforts of the party.

*******

One more to go, old man, and we will wipe the slate clean. Once I'm done with Dragoslav Blažanović your death will have been avenged. I swore to you that I would take care of El Tigre and I will.

Petar Dorić made his way back to the farm. He avoided the main roads and highways using instead the back pathways that cut through the forests. It was where he was most at home. He knew that the Serb would be coming to settle the score for Andrej and he wanted to be there to greet the man.

The big dog that ran alongside his master looked up at him and growled with anticipation.

******

El Tigre

Earlier that day in one of the offices of the Paramilitary, Dragoslav Blažanović had received a call.

"Leave it to me ... I have been waiting for this. You don't have to worry, that fucker Dorić will be history. I'll take care of him like I did his grandfather!" Blažanović said then paused before adding, "I will bring the girl to you; she is of no interest to me."

There was a short silence before the Serb spoke in a softer tone, "You sound ill ... are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Just do what I have asked," the voice over the phone replied.

"Okay. Consider this done! When ..."

He heard the click on the other end and the line went dead. He waited for a moment before hanging up the phone then looking up at the two men who were with him, he smiled, "Let's do it."

*******

Confrontation

I was cleaning out the stalls in the barn when I heard the crunch of tires in the yard and saw a Jeep pulling in. I dropped the broom and eased towards the window; we normally didn't have visitors this late in the day and just as Petar had predicted, they were here.

The vehicle was painted army olive and brown with the insignia of the militia on the hood and before it had come to a stop, two large men who had been riding on either side on the foot rails, stepped off. They were dressed in the black fatigues of the Special Forces with semi-automatics slung loosely around their bodies and were engulfed by the clouds of dust that had kicked up in the trail of the jeep. They split to either side scanning the buildings in front of them. You could tell that these were professional killers!

When the vehicle came to a stop, I saw the passenger in the front ease out and stretch. I knew at once that this was the Serb, the notorious 'El Tigre', Dragoslav Blažanović, even though I had never seen him before. Then another soldier, also from the paramilitary and dressed in their traditional black fatigues, got out from the rear of the jeep. He wasn't quite as big as the other two but was tall and lean. The driver, as far as I could tell, was not from the Special Forces -- he was wearing the traditional olive outfit of the army.

I turned my attention back to the Serb. I had heard stories about this him since I was a boy; rumors of his cruelty and toughness. I could see why people feared him. Though he was in his late fifties, he was in excellent shape and stood well over six feet in height. He was broad and thick and walked with the rolling gait of a much younger man. He had an innate air of authority which commanded attention.

He motioned with his fingers towards the barn and one of the three commandos broke away coming towards me, his semi-automatic pointing in the general direction of the large sliding door of the barn. The second commando crossed the yard and went to the far side of the house to block off any escape from the rear.

I saw the driver step behind the jeep with a rifle and leaning against the hood, he faced the back entrance. I could tell from the manner in which he handled his weapon that this man was an expert, possibly a sharp shooter. I noticed the first man was getting pretty close so I grabbed the hunting rifle and scooted up the ladder to Petar's room and waited.

"If you see him, put a bullet through his fucking head!" I heard Blažanović's command.

I inched up to the window and saw the Serb with the third commando by his side, head for the house. Blažanović released the snap on his holster and had drawn his pistol, a rare Korth Combat 357 Magnum. He knocked heavily on the thick, wooden door and as soon as my father answered he was unceremoniously shoved back and then I lost sight of them.

I waited until the first soldier had climbed up the ladder to Petar's room before jumping down onto the bundles of hay. Petar had put the hatch in the floor to make it easy to stack the hay in winter. It made for a perfect escape route. I could hear the floorboards creaking with the weight of the soldier as he searched the room above me and carefully slipped out of the barn to the right where there were no windows on the upper level. It was almost impossible for them to see me from the house and the only one with any chance was the driver and he was facing away from me.

I lay down, aimed the rifle at the window of the dining room and waited. So far, it was playing out pretty much as Petar had said it would.

Where the heck was Petar anyway?

My heart was pounding like a jackhammer on steroids.

*******

"I go ahead to prepare a place at the table of our ancestors. I will wait in the halls of Courage and Honor and light a fire so you can find your way to my side. We shall stand together, shoulder to shoulder, with swords drawn so others might know of our strength. We shall dine at the table of warriors and remain brothers through eternity."

An excerpt from a Norse Poem

Petar watched the jeep from the sanctuary of the trees. He sensed the impatience of the giant Anatolian Shepherd with him -- Tabari, the one hundred and eighty pound male. He waited until the Serb and the third man had entered the house before letting the dog go. He had to make sure that there weren't any others hidden somewhere amongst the trees -- a sniper waiting for him to show. The dog would sniff them out. So he waited without moving, camouflaged by the leaves and the mottled shadows of the tree trunks.

About twenty minutes later the dog returned and licked him on his face wagging his tail, reassuring him that there were only the five men to deal with. He had to move quickly -- he didn't want any of his family getting hurt.

"Come on, boy!" he whispered to the giant canine.

He circled the yard towards the barn staying low and in the brush moving with the stealth of a leopard. The first thing Petar wanted to make sure of was that his brother was okay. He knew that Andy had the rifle and if there was any hint of trouble he was to take no chances and shoot. Since there had been no gunshots the soldier had either disarmed Andy or he hadn't found him as yet. He hoped that it was the latter. His brother was the one at greatest risk -- the men of the house would be killed; that was a certainty and the women would suffer fates worse than death but that would occur later; for now he needed to make sure that Andy was alright. Petar arrived just as the man was climbing down the ladder from the converted room, his room, in the upper level of the barn.

There was a sliding panel near the headboard which concealed a secret compartment just big enough for a person to sit scrunched down. Not comfortably but very effectively since it was almost impossible to detect. Andy knew of this space and Petar was hoping that his brother had managed to hide in there.

The commando jumped off the ladder and stood still listening for movement before he began the search of the stables. There were several horses and as he went from stall to stall he crouched low looking carefully between the animal's legs. Petar felt a sense of relief knowing that the continued search meant that his brother was most probably okay.