Midnight Ride from Sarajevo

By DOUGLAS FARNELL

Seven years after he foiled a terrorist plot to hijack an airliner and blow up a Russian refinery, Daniel Prescott takes a much-needed holiday in Dubrovnik, Croatia, along with his strikingly beautiful partner, Arianna Reynolds. On their vacation the couple tries to revive their relationship which has been recently strained. But an evil Bosnian

• Language: English
• Publisher: Capricorn Solutions LLC
• Release date: Oct 21, 2021
• ISBN: 9780578994413

DOUGLAS FARNELL

Author Douglas W. Farnell served as Chief Financial Officerin several small to mid-size Seattle area businesses. Theseexperiences served him well when he created a riveting,historical fiction-action story, The Snow Leopard and theIbex, about an entrepreneur facing multiple challenges ofthe 2008 Financial Crisis. The protagonist, Daniel Prescott,lives on as the lead character in Midnight Ride from Sarajevo,the second story in the Daniel Prescott Series.Farnell is a resident of Seattle, where he volunteers as aninstructor in business and finance for high school students.

Book preview

Paperback: 978-0-5789-9440-6

EBook: 978-0-5789-9441-3

Copyright © 2021 by Douglas W. Farnell

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in any form, or by any mechanical or electronic means including photocopying or recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, in whole or in part in any form, and in any case not without the written permission of the author and publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Ordering information:

For orders and inquiries, please contact:

855-997-7275

ingramcontent.com

Published November 2021

DEDICATION

4

This book is dedicated to the nurses, doctors, medical personnel, emergency workers, researchers, and other brave and tireless people who assisted the world in fighting the Covid-19 disease during the multi-year pandemic of 2019 – 2022.

We will forever be in your debt.

Midnight Ride from Sarajevo

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

4

Map of Sarajevo

Map of Dubrovnik – Old Town

Map of Bosnia-Herzegovina and Croatia

CONTENTS

4

Chapter 1: One Uzete The Taken Ones

Chapter 2: Old Town Charm in Dubrovnik

Chapter 3: Nautika

Chapter 4: The Warlord

Chapter 5: Cruising the Adriatic

Chapter 6: Brač Island

Chapter 7: Abduction

Chapter 8: Black Ops Strike Team

Chapter 9: Militia Alert

Chapter 10: Search for Arianna and Sara

Chapter 11: Bosnian Connections

Chapter 12: Midnight Ride from Sarajevo

Chapter 13: Danger from the Skies

Chapter 14: Race to the Border

Chapter 15: Aftermath

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Chapter 1

ONE UZETE

THE TAKEN ONES

4

Bistrik District

Sarajevo

Bosnia-Herzegovina

July 9, 2015

Zlata glanced furtively over her shoulder as she avoided the well-lit areas of the Bistrik thoroughfare and turned west onto the Hamdije Kreševljakovića, one of Sarajevo’s well-known avenues. Still barefoot and with her feet bleeding due to the hastiness of her daring escape, she kept to the sidewalks and guided herself through the city center using the memory of her visit to the Bosnian capital three years earlier. The streets were empty at 0215 hours but even if a passing motorist or pedestrian should happen by, she feared contacting them, knowing she would eventually be turned over to the militia who had kidnapped her from her home city of Dubrovnik, Croatia just two weeks ago.

Thankful for the darkness, now her only companion, the desperate, attractive young woman sought a clandestine route to the only place in the city where she thought she would be safe, the Croatian embassy. But that objective was on the north side of the Miljacka River and a good two kilometers from her current location. She was still south of the river as it ran its course, west-northwest, through the city’s center. Little did she know her desperate plan posed significant risks.

Clad only in a blue party dress, dirty and torn at the left shoulder, the only acquisition of modesty during her escape, she had progressed nearly four kilometers from the evil Warlord and his wretched villa where she had been held captive. Although lightweight, the dress still seemed warm enough for the summer evening, and Zlata wasn’t yet cognizant of how much adrenaline was propelling her on her dangerous journey and contributing to her body heat.

The sound of barking dogs drawing closer sent another chill of fear down her spine and she shot another glance behind her, estimating she was only a half kilometer ahead of her pursuers, militia unleashed by the crazed power broker, Vlado Bogdanović. The autocrat, through cunning and illegal maneuverings, had managed to control most of the important government, private enterprise, and police still left in the city. The Strongman of Sarajevo had several spies planted in the Croatian and other embassies so even if Zlata achieved her objective, his embassy operatives would have turned her over to her captor, so extensive was his corruptible reach into the city’s prominent institutions. The American embassy was the only exception.

The four-man patrol’s two tracking dogs easily acquired Zlata’s scent, and their baying and barking could be heard by the fleeing young woman, now only four-hundred meters ahead of the searching militiamen.

Maybe if I reach the river the water will throw off the dogs, she thought, her mind racing, searching for options of escape. Yes, there’s the park. The river is right next to it! She ducked to her right down Austrijski Trg and into the shrubbery and trees of At Mejdan park.

She knew she couldn’t take the nearby Latin Bridge across the Miljacka as she would be easily spotted from either side of the river. A swim across the chilled water was her only option. As she descended the moderately sloped bank, the view across the swift moving water triggered her apprehension and fatigue finally began to catch up with her.

Reliving the terrifying circumstances of her abduction, captivity, and risky escape, her thoughts turned introspective as she struggled to hold back tears. Why me? Why did they take me from my home? But the approaching baying of the tracking dogs drawing closer shook her out of her painful reverie, and she quickly entered the water with a gasp at the cold enveloping her body. She swam with a breaststroke keeping her arms and legs under water, making almost no sound. As she swam, she noted the bridge on her right would be the likely route of her pursuers.

The north end of the famous Latin Bridge was the location of the 1914 assassination in Sarajevo of Austrian Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife Sophie, triggering the start of World War I. During daylight hours there would be dozens of tourists examining the historical plaques surrounding the assassination site.

She knew she had to swim under the bridge to eventually arrive at the darkest, or northern, part on the opposite bank. But that also required her to swim against the river’s current, further depleting her already exhausted, chilled body.

She entered the park here, yelled Rogdavan, the lead patrol man, who struggled to hold on to the Doberman Pinscher who was straining against its leash as it followed its target’s scent onto the grass of At Mejdan park. Miroslav, over here, he barked at the handler of the second dog.

Yes, yes, retorted Miroslav, who signaled the remaining two militiamen to his location with his large flashlight. Anticipation and excitement quickened the pace of all four men for they knew their leader, Bogdanović, would give each of them a special bonus if they recovered the woman in good condition. Their expected prize, a thousand euros each and a special surprise that he promised to this loyal four-man militia team. But as the men followed the barking dogs to the river’s edge, suddenly, the dogs stopped straining and began to whimper helplessly while padding around the bank. They had lost the scent of their target!

"Sranje, shit, Rogdavan cursed. She couldn’t have been more than three or four hundred meters ahead of us! She must have crossed the river here. Quick, up to the bridge! Bring the dogs!" They scrambled back through the park and onto the Latin Bridge, scanning in both directions along the dark water to spot their prey.

Unknown to the militia patrol, Zlata had crossed the Miljacka, but ended up fifty meters downstream of the bridge because of the current, and had to walk, shivering, on the north bank to reach the darkness directly under the overpass. As she emerged from the water a reason for her abduction became apparent. The wet, blue party dress had shrunk around her body revealing her curvaceous hips, slender waist, long legs, and firm breasts, a magnet for the militia scouts who were sent to Dubrovnik to kidnap beautiful young women. She huddled, still shivering, under the bridge out of sight of the four-man patrol.

The shouts of the men and the barking dogs revealed their movement as they advanced from the south end of the bridge. Knowing her position was becoming more perilous Zlata’s thoughts briefly regressed back to a happier existence at her Dubrovnik apartment on the crystal blue waters of the Adriatic, where she spent sunny days and pleasureful nights with her boyfriend. Both of them had good jobs, a bright future and sensed that marriage was their destiny.

But all that ended two weeks ago, on that fateful afternoon as she was walking home from work down a narrow street. A white van with fake Croatian plates abruptly pulled in front of her. Four men leaped out, bound and gagged her, threw her into the van, and drove off to an unknown destination in Bosnia.

The patrol men were drawing closer now. Zlata could hear their voices moving past the middle of the bridge toward the north end. Suddenly the dogs became animated, and both began to resume their barking aggressiveness.

Ah . . . target reacquired, exulted Rogdavan. "She must be nearby.

I don’t see anything on the water, he said, straining to lean over the downstream side of the bridge. We better not lose her, he added, knowing Bogdanović would rage mercilessly at his patrol should they return empty-handed.

Use the night goggles! he yelled at Miroslav.

Zlata’s worse fears began to take hold. They were now directly above her on the bridge. Rogdavan began to climb down a set of steps leading to the river.

Chapter 2

OLD TOWN CHARM

IN DUBROVNIK

4

Fort St. Ivan Promenade

Old Town

Dubrovnik

Croatia

July 9, 2015

The warmth of the July sun on the ochre-red tile roofs of Old Town Dubrovnik was tempered by offshore breezes from the Adriatic just enough to entice Daniel Prescott and Arianna Reynolds to linger a little longer on the seaside promenade adjoining Fort St. Ivan, a medieval fortress with a maritime museum. Just ten blocks from the Hotel Stari Grad, a trendy hotel on Od Sigurate where they were staying, they were exploring the intriguing sights of the historic seventh-century city at a leisurely pace. A project of great care and pride, having been restored from a 1667 earthquake and damage from a siege by the Yugoslav People’s Army in 1991, Dubrovnik was now one of the most prominent tourist destinations in the Mediterranean. Daniel and Arianna let themselves be lulled into a medieval fantasy world of old, red tile roofed buildings, streets of limestone, the azure-blue waters of the Adriatic and the bobbing of small craft anchored in the Stara Luka harbor.

Their choice of the Hotel Stari Grad, literally translated as ‘Old Town Hotel,’ for a ten-day stay was influenced by Daniel’s local contact, Colonel Tom Sanders, a US Army officer. Sanders was the leader of the team that accompanied Daniel on his return to the US from Rostov-on-Don, Russia, seven years earlier. Tom had made a habit of frequently reconnecting with Daniel in the aftermath of his dramatic foiling of the 767 hijacking by Georgian and Chechen terrorists over southern Russia in 2008. Now a world-wide celebrity, Daniel continued his CEO role at Capricorn Solutions, a successful higher education software company in Seattle, mixed with nation-wide speaking engagements urging small business owners to pursue newly established support programs from the US Department of Commerce.

Tom was now the senior officer in charge of the US Army advisory team in Croatia, a component of the total US military Croatian command since its joining with NATO in 2009. He was also senior NATO commander for the Balkan theatre. The role of his staff and support teams was primarily advisory but they maintained a high level of quick-response skills for deploying to multiple locations in the Balkans. He traveled frequently to Washington, DC, Tampa, Brussels and to the Croatian cities of Zagreb, Udbina, Dubrovnik, and Brač Island, off the Dalmatian coast.

Let’s see, mused Daniel as they relaxed on a small bench on the lee side of the promenade. Been here two days and seen four museums, three guard towers, four restaurants, and tomorrow we’re planning to explore that island on motorbikes, pointing to Lokrum, an island about two kilometers from the harbor. Do you think we’ve done our share of sightseeing?

Oh, no, exclaimed Arianna. We still have to take the cable car that rises 778 meters to the Panorama Restaurant with a dramatic view of the entire city. And weren’t we going to take a multi-day sailboat cruise?

Ahh, you’re right, we did want to do a longer cruise. Hey, we’re meeting Tom for lunch in a half hour. Why don’t we get some advice from him?

Arianna smiled, knowing she had successfully corrected her handsome partner while getting him to think it was his idea.

Say, it’s almost eleven thirty, Daniel noted. We should start walking to the restaurant. You want to do a little shopping on the way?

No, I’m shopped out right now, responded his stunning, blonde partner of seven years. It’ll be a nice walk on the quay, as she playfully took Daniel’s hand in hers and gently began to swing them as if mimicking the bobbing of the small boats at anchor in the harbor.

Arianna’s initialization of holding hands brought a gentle reminder to Daniel that they had been missing intimate encounters with each other for the past couple of years. Her touch brought back deep longings within him to return to the earlier times of their relationship when some form of intimacy was a daily occurrence. Now they were emotionally distant.

I know it’s my fault, he told himself. I’m the one who went on five day speaking tours for the US Commerce Department, three times a month. We would only be together for two days, at most, in between trips. I kept telling myself how important it was for me to meet small business owners and convince them of the Department’s new financial incentives designed to help them succeed and expand.

But it was such a hard subject for him to bring up with Arianna. He would have to admit his fundamental weakness which was helping others without regard to his own priorities. He was torn between loyalty to advising many small businesses and his responsibilities as a partner to a lovely, wonderful lady. That’s why we’re taking this holiday in Dubrovnik, to spend more time together, he concluded.

But deep down another voice inside was telling him, Only ten days? You think you’re making up for not paying attention to her for two years with only a ten-day holiday? Then feelings of guilt would take over and he would find another excuse to not address the lack of intimacy that had resulted. He sometimes wondered if Arianna suspected him of having an affair with another woman. But if he brought that up, she would likely begin to suspect something, even