Free Lie in the Dark by Dan Fesperman Page A

tables, and interrogation rooms, giving the impression both of earnestness and of appetite.
    The tendency among others was either to pass him off as a toadying yes-man showing off his enthusiasm for superiors or as a man truly wrapped up in his mission. Vlado had never known him well enough to decide.
    Kasic led Vlado across an open area of cluttered desks, where men in the dark blue uniforms of the ministry police busily went about whatever it was they did up here. Vlado counted five space heaters, each working at full power. The room was comfortable, even cozy
    They reached a large office with CHIEF OF SPECIAL POLICE on the door. So, he had already moved in, Vlado thought, scanning the walls and desk for signs of Vitas as he settled into a chair. He was mildly angry to find none. He’d hoped to be the first to search Vitas’s office, but it was obvious he’d been beaten to the punch.
    Kasic slid behind Vitas’s old desk, glancing about him for a moment as if still getting his bearings, then leaned forward, clasping his hands before him on a stack of notes. His voice emerged in the deep fullness of a command, although his words were welcoming.
    “Now then, Vlado. It is good to see you’re on the case. I have done some checking and found you a thorough man and a solid investigator, although I must admit your lack of experience gives me pause. Less than two years as a detective before the war began, and four years total, correct?”
    Vlado nodded.
    “And I gather you haven’t been too busy since the beginning of the war. At least not with this sort of case.”
    “Correct.”
    “I also gather that your boss, Mr. Garovic, while helpful, was not very eager to turn you loose you on this. He is, I take it, a somewhat careful man.”
    Vlado allowed himself a brief smile. “That’s putting it mildly,” he said.
    “Well, I can understand his hesitance. A sensitive matter, this one. And by all rights this should be our case. If it weren’t for some special considerations, we’d be handling it, and handling it professionally and well, I have no doubt.”
    “Special considerations?”
    “The U.N. On some days we can’t even take a piss around here anymore without three of them asking if they can come along. We feel we have to prove ourselves every day, then file a report on it in triplicate. If I had my way I’d just as soon tell them to mind their own business— it’s not as if they’re running the tightest ship themselves. I can’t tell you how many times we could have cracked down on the French or the Egyptians, brokering whores and cigarettes, or peddling U.N. passes to smuggle people out of the country at three thousand marks a pop. And we all know they’ve been licking the boots of the other side throughout the war.
    “But for all that, we, or, that is, people far above me, feel that we can turn the corner with them with the right kind of results in this department. And if we turn the corner with them, then maybe we can turn the corner on getting the right kind of help for fighting this war. Bigger guns, antitank weapons—you’ve heard the laundry list before, and it’s not going to be filled anytime soon as long as the arms embargo’s still in effect. But in some quarters, at least, there is momentum.”
    Kasic paused to light a cigarette, pulling a Marlboro from a pack on his desk. Was this going to be a lecture on the war or would they ever discuss Vitas?
    “Which is where this little investigation comes in,” Kasic said, as if reading Vlado’s mind. “Every time they catch the slightest whiff of something dirty blowing from our way, anything to do with corruption, racketeering, profiteering on our side of the fence, it becomes another piece of ammunition for keeping the embargo in place. It’s an easy enough sell: ‘If the Bosnians can’t even clean up after themselves, why should we help them make an even bigger mess.’ We thought we’d proved our point with the raids in October, but the