Chapter 7

Late in the afternoon, Miloz came by her apartment. “Ok, I’ve been working my sources. I have some good news and some bad news.”

She glanced at him apprehensively, unsure which she wanted first.

“The good news is, they haven’t charged him with anything. They’re only holding him for investigation. And, it is precisely the thing I warned him about too. The other day, when his wallet was stolen, he didn’t get the proper documents at the police station. If I’d been there, none of this would have happened. Fortunately, he is here legally, and they’ll figure that out eventually. At worst he’ll be slapped with a 2000 dinar fine for faulty paperwork.”

“But ... there’s also bad news?”

“Well, as I feared, the authorities are not only digging into Tom’s residency status, but also his activities here in Serbia. And to be honest, he and Ricardo have not included me in all the details of their business dealings. Their arrangement with the minister came a bit too easily, as far as I can see. So, I’m worried that as the police continue their inquiry, they’ll turn up evidence of something else—some instance where Tom crossed the line. If they do, he may be in very hot water.”

“He’ll be ... deported?”

“He could be looking at prison time. Even a stiff sentence, perhaps. But we’re a long way from that yet. What I’d like to do is to get out ahead of it. Develop an idea of what charges they might come up with, and then inoculate Tom against them as best I can.”

“Can you do that?”

“Maybe—if I know what he and Ricardo have been up to. So, here’s my question: do you know whether Tom keeps any of his contracts or agreements or other business papers around here? And if so, can I take a look at them?”

Wordlessly, Annie fetched Tom’s attaché case and laid it on the kitchen table. “Perfect!” Miloz said. He got right to work, leafing through the papers, reading some, and photographing others with a point-and-shoot camera he took from his pocket. After a half-hour or so, he sheafed the papers and placed them back in the bag.

“Yes, there is definitely work for me to do here,” he said, getting up to leave. “I’ll be in touch in the morning, ok? I expect by then, Tom will have been released. The unknown factor is what corruption charges may be leveled against him in the coming days. In this country, it’s not just a matter of ‘the rule of law,’ you know? A lot depends on the moods and rivalries of senior officials. Tomorrow, I’ll have a better sense where we stand. And, I’ll have started putting some defensive measures in place as well. Does that sound good?”

She nodded. Then, taking a tentative step closer, she folded him in an appreciative hug. “That’s wonderful, Miloz. I’m so glad I called you. I only wish we’d listened to you from the beginning.”

Gingerly, as if unsure of their boundaries, he patted her on the back. “Of course, Annie. I’m happy to do it.” Then, extricating himself from her arms, he left with purposeful step.

Just as Miloz had predicted, Tom stumbled in the door about nine o’clock that evening, released (at least for now) without charges being filed.

He looked a wreck—hollow-eyed, unshaven, shell-shocked. He hadn’t been mistreated, but even so the stress of interrogation and incarceration, not to mention the marital conflict that preceded it, all lay heavily on him. Clearly he had been hoping to find some compassion and understanding when he arrived home; but Annie had little to give him.

Tom was eager to talk. He admitted he’d done wrong, and begged her forgiveness. Yes—he’d known Deyana was sleazy. Yes—he’d had a general idea of how Miloz and Ricardo (as well as the Serbian official) viewed the woman’s ‘duties.’ Yes—he should have stood up to them, should have vetoed the arrangement. He promised that he knew better now. He’d learned his lesson.

Still, on the most serious charges, Tom stood firm in protesting his innocence. He hadn’t propositioned the woman. And although she’d flirted with him, she hadn’t made any overt offers either. And nothing, absolutely nothing, had actually gone on between them.

Annie didn’t know what to think. The evidence against Tom was mostly circumstantial—even the lipstick, though that did look very incriminating. But there was one key discrepancy that seemed to lie at the heart of the matter. Miloz said that Tom and Deyana had remained together at the apartment that morning. But every time Annie challenged Tom on it (voice simmering with agitation and mistrust), he swore again that he’d stayed there alone—that Deyana had left, and Miloz was lying, or at least mistaken.

Annie’s brain buzzed with confusion and doubt. Was it possible she’d misunderstood Miloz? She certainly didn’t think so. But if not, then what was she to believe? Who was she to believe? She just didn’t know anymore.

And when it came to the other stuff—Miloz’s allusions to criminal bribery and corruption—Annie didn’t even start in on that. The Deyana situation definitely raised questions; but all the same, she still guessed that Tom, and probably Ricardo, made an effort to conduct business with a certain level of integrity. Serbia, however, was the kind of place that made a mockery of corporate ethics. Bribery and corruption seemed to be standard operating procedure. So, she’d hardly be shocked if her husband had found it necessary to bend the rules a bit. She only hoped that in his ignorance, Tom hadn’t crossed the wrong people and landed himself in real danger...

In the end, they talked themselves out, without really having resolved anything. Perhaps that was progress? When he asked, she agreed that Tom could stay and sleep on the couch. The man was obviously exhausted, and drifted off almost instantly. She retired to the bedroom and locked the door, hoping to find some rest for herself as well.

Annie did manage to nod off eventually—but she woke again at daybreak, full of nervous energy. Eager to escape before Tom was up or Zora arrived, she pulled on a halter top and jogging-shorts. Moving gingerly, she retrieved Tom’s briefcase from the living room. She must have disturbed him, though, because he raised his head groggily. “Wha...?”

“Go back to sleep, Tom. It’s early. I’m going for a run. I’ll be back soon.”

Out in the hall, she rifled through the case under the dim light of a single bare bulb, until she found what she wanted—Tom’s little black book. She tore out Miloz’s address, and dumped the rest back inside the entryway. Then she descended to the curb, flagging a taxi and paying for the short ride to Dorcol. She begrudged the time it would have taken to walk.

Miloz’s place was in a newish building; and, as he had said, it was on the top floor. If he really did own it, it must have cost a pretty penny. She took the lift up, and banged on his apartment door. She waited, then pounded again. Eventually she heard movement inside, and the door opened.

Miloz presented a very different picture than at their previous meetings. On the one hand, his usual neat appearance had given way to sloppy indolence—shirtless, clad only in a pair of olive-green cargo shorts, ash-bronze hair badly disheveled.

On the other hand, the man’s bare torso and legs confronted her with a physicality that his low-key demeanor had previously disguised. Tom had a decently-proportioned body, but Miloz’s physique was now revealed as something fundamentally different: solid, muscular, truly powerful. Unbidden, it occurred to her that there was no doubt which would come out on top if they ever faced off in a fistfight. The mental image was scary and inexplicable—but also weirdly exciting...

His face broke into a slow smile when he recognized her, “Annie, I didn’t expect to see you so early. I was going to drop by your place later. But come on in.”

The flat was large and updated, but the effect was undermined by sparse furnishings and general untidiness. Papers and magazines were scattered indiscriminately, mixed in with a sprinkling of used glasses and unwashed bowls.

“I’m sorry to bother you at home,” she said nervously. “I just couldn’t wait any longer—I want to know if Tom’s in trouble. And, I have a few questions...”

Beneath his usual calm cheeriness, the man’s voice held a tinge of sarcasm that was new to her. “Well, that’s what Miloz is here for, right? To answer your questions; solve your problems; clean up your messes. Plus, if you’re mad at your husband and want to feel in control, you can always toy with Miloz and then pull the rug out from under him. Good fun.”

She hadn’t expected anything like that. “It’s a bad time. I’ll go...”

“No, no, stay! I want you to. We have a lot to discuss. But you know, Annie, you shouldn’t have wound me up like that in the park. Not if you didn’t intend to go through with it.”

“You’re right. It was just-”

“Manipulative, I think, is the word you’re looking for. Now to be fair, I haven’t exactly been honest with you and Tom either. However, I’m done with secrets. And if I’m being candid, there’s one other thing I should tell you. You really shouldn’t let people into your husband’s papers.”