Free Love Is for Tomorrow by Michael Karner, Isaac Newton Acquah Page A

Chechnya.”
    Antoine took a sip. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand without putting the glass down.
    “The Russian military intelligence GRU founded two Spetznaz units in Chechnya, callsigned Vostok and Zapad, meaning East and West. The overwhelming majority of personnel were ethnic Chechens, while the command personnel were mixed Russians and Chechens. Vostok and Zapad were organized at the end of 1999, initially as two special companies formed in the structure of the Mountain Grouping of the Russian Ministry of Defence. While servicemen of Zapad were loyal to the Russian government, the core of Vostok was made up of former separatist fighters of the second Battalion of the National Guard of Ichkeria from Gudermes. These are the same types of turncoats that fit Khabib’s behavior. They fought against Russian troops in the First Chechen War, then switched sides to the federals and swore allegiance to Russia. Which brings us now back to Khabib. We don’t know who this man is loyal to, but his background gives us an idea about where his allegiances lie. He changes them like underwear and puts his gun where the money is. You say I’m not scared of anything… but that scares me. This time, I do not want to be the target. They shoot first and do not miss.”  
    Antoine took his phone out and looked at the display, running over names and numbers.
    “You know, it’s people like him that stop me from getting back to what I want,” he said.
    He stopped at one name. His college love, wife, mother of his child. His fingers glided over the display, to take the call. She wouldn’t know his number. Antoine had played it through in his head many times. It almost felt like another lifetime when he last spoke to her. She wouldn’t even know him anymore and he would be at a loss for words, hanging in the line speechless and freaking her out. That’s why he decided to let it be and not make her life any harder than it already was. It was his son’s birthday today. He would turn four. It was that special time of the year. Everything was worse in it.
    “I have to spy on my own family, trying to get connected through video games, buying art from my wife, and drinking my father’s whiskey. That’s all I have left.”
    He just couldn’t go back to seeing their faces. There had been a time when his room was full of pictures and reminders of them. Those were gone now, for his and their own good. He wore no rings on his fingers. Not the ring that symbolized the love they had sworn each other, nor the one he earned with blood and sweat from Westpoint. They were gone, just like he was. It was better to stay gone for all of them. If they found out who he was, they would go insane.
    He looked into the warm-colored bourbon, thoughts already focused on the next sip.
    “When we get Khabib and leave this behind us, I will help you get your reunion,” Kovac told him. “I promise.”
    Antoine led the glass to his lips but stopped when they touched.
    He let his hand down and put the glass as far away from him as possible. The tip of his index finger drew circles along the rim of the glass. He swirled the bourbon to let the liquor cling to the sides.
    The separation from his loved ones turned him into a collector of memories. He looked to the wall where paintings hung in frames. His wife’s art was the only connection he could keep. He made sure to get her paintings and attend the auctions every couple of months to support her. They were dark and depressing but turning brighter over time.
    Antoine walked along the gallery of pictures. “Tomorrow we go to Monaco and find that bastard.”
     
     

CHAPTER NINE
     
    DEAD DROP
     
    “Deo Juvenante” (With God’s Help) - Motto of Monaco
     
    Monte Carlo, Monaco
     
    Racing on the high shore road along the Cote d’Azur between Nice and Monaco, where waves crumbled below against the rocks of Eze, Antoine appreciated two things: Salim had lent them a convertible Corvette and Kovac was