First Day, New Town

Edvard Torgeer, a Norwegian officer, was my new partner in Drvar. Well, I should say that I was his new partner since he outranked me and had worked this area longer. This first week in town he would be showing me around and introducing me to his main contacts. Today we were having a meet and greet with the chief of police, Bratislav Drago. This was also a time to get to know the regular translator out here. Her name was Vanja Vidović. I had been collecting and working in Banja Luka and Prijedor for the past few weeks. I had just gotten into my groove there when this slot opened. The Captain said he needed me here to fill the team. Who am I? Just a fresh out of school intelligence collector with an infantry background. Today was my first day in Drvar.

Edvard led Vanja and me to a larger table inside the bar. The room was almost entirely wooden and dimly lit. Most of the light came from the windows along the street when the shutters were pulled back. Small lamps and other lights were on, but did little against the shadows and darkness deeper inside. This is the place that Bratislav chose for the introduction meeting. Mark Chapman had just been assigned to

Bratislav arrived after we had taken our seats. He approached the table with the windows behind him. At first I couldn't clearly see his face due to his being back lit by the windows. Once he sat down I had a better view, not that he was much to look at. His eyes were blue and cold. He kept his black hair trimmed close. It was his face that really stood out to me. His face was heavily scarred. I had read in the prior reports that Bratislav reported having been a prisoner of the Croats during the war. His hands were also heavily scarred, but those hands looked more like they had done more than their share of interrogating.

Edvard stood up to greet Bratislav with a smile and a handshake, "Bratislav! Thank you for meeting us on such short notice." Being from Jersy the attitude that came across from Edvard was a bit over done. It felt like he was hamming it up. Well, if that's what it took to stroke the guys ego.

Bratislav reached out to shake hands, "I am always happy to be able to take time out and talk with you about whatever is of concern to your Commander." By 'Commander' Bratislav meant General Timothy Vasquez, the commanding officer of the Stabilization Forces, known as SFOR. This rotation, ROTO 11, was still considered hostile and an area with high potential for shootings and violence. It was our job to make sure that the Dayton Peace Accords were being implemented. Corrupt police were everywhere. I just knew we were drinking with one this morning.

Looking around the table and settling his cold gaze on me, Bratislav commented, "Miss Patience is no longer with you."

Sitting back down Edvard explained, "No, she's gone back to France." He shrugged and smiled saying, "You know how the cycle goes." Edvard's smile was becoming more of a mask and less of a smile.

"Indeed. You and your cohorts are here for far too short a time." Bratislav gestured with his hands to visualize the short time most field operators were on station. Most were deployed for 6 months which gave them about four months of real work time after they got oriented to the terrain and people.

"Let me introduce you to Mark. He will be my partner now," I leaned across the table to shake his hand. Having studied Serbo-Croatian a bit before getting in country I greeted him without Vanja's help. "Drago mije, Gospodine. Kako ste?" It was a simple greeting, pleased to meet you and how are you. I said it smoothly and meeting his icy gaze head on.

Bratislav looked surprised, if only for a moment, before smiling, "Ahh! You speak Serbo-Croatian." He said this in English and with such a thick accent that most people would need a translator to fully comprehend what he was saying. Vanja looked at both of us with a look of momentary surprise.

Bratislav and I held each others gaze and solidly shook hands. He was trying to control the amount pressure I was getting. He wanted to hurt my hand. Not to be cruel, but to show who was in the power position in this relationship. I pushed right back and met his grip. I wanted it clear to him that I was different from my predecessors. This lasted only for a few seconds, but it was a clear enough message for both of us.

Bratislav commented in Serbo, "So you speak Serbo-Croatian. Are you a linguist?" He stepped back and sat down as he spoke.

In retrospect I should not have answered in Serb, but I did, "Well, you know, I only know enough to get into trouble." As Vanja translated this Edvard joined in on the laugh. He cast a glance at me that wasn't friendly, but it wasn't angry, either.

The intention of this meeting was to introduce me and to just BS, build rapport.Bratislav looked at Edvard, "I know that we usually meet in my office, but all we ever do is talk business. Edvard, you need to relax and just have fun."

"Yea," Edvard agreed. "I have nto had too much down time here." He looked around and smiled, "I wish I could have some time to just look around, to wander and enjoy things." Driving in early this morning, at about the ass crack of dawn, I had to agree. There was a lot of beautiful, ancient forests to explore, sleepy hamlets to relax in, city areas to drink and carouse in. I was taken by the countryside. I was also very pleases to see that the women in this country were mostly hot. Some were down right dangerously gorgeous. Right then, I was thinking some down time to "explore" would be great, too.

Looking at me, Edvard stated, "I have known Bratislav here for nearly 6 months. He has a long history of talking with SFOR." Looking back at the grizzled Chief he added, "He is always willing to listen to us and talk." Talk to us? I wondered who had done more of the talking. No, I knew. I read the reports. This guy doesn't confirm much information, denies abuses, and asks directly what SFOR is looking for. He has spent most of his time working with SFOR collecting and, very likely, reporting against us.

"It has been an honor to have you here representing SFOR and General Vasquez, Edvard. I hope that I have been able assist, in some small way," He smiled, but not in his eyes. Right then, if you were to cover the top of his face and see only the smile, it would have looked pleasant; however, if you covered the bottom of his face, his eyes were sending a very different message.

Mark didn't like this posturing, but it was necessary, to a point. "So, Bratislav, what do you do for fun? I mean, other than busting crooks over the head, what else do you do to unwind?"

Vanja looked at me with shock and a bit of horror, but she translated word for word. Bratislav laughed, and this was a real laugh. He raised his glass to indicate that he drank. But, from what I had seen firsthand and heard, drinking is one of the national pass times in Bosnia.

"What is your relaxation, Mark? Do you make women a hobby?" Bratislav sipped his drink.

I smiled easily and answered, ""Women. Beer. Motorcycles. My coffee had arrived so I sipped that. "All three can really jack you up." Bratislav laughed.

"You speak like a Bosnian. You act like a Bosnian. Why don't you become Bosnian? Or are you already a secret Bosnian?"

I chuckled. "Bratislav, I am unashamedly and die hard American. I feel that the best way to get to know how a people think is to learn how they speak. Wouldn't you agree?" He nodded in agreement.

"I ride motorcycles, too. I just wrecked my Ducati a few weeks ago." Bratislav turned in his chair and showed us the healing road rash on his shoulder. "That is why, Edvard, I had to cancel our last meeting. I was in a hospital bed." Edvard shrugged and nodded. It wasn't like there was anyway to fault the guy. You ride long enough, you get reckless. Then, you wreck. Hell, ride long enough and you wreck anyway.


"Ducati is a sweet ride." I looked at him, he seemed to be relaxing a bit. I also noticed that one large gent at the bar was watching us in the mirror behind the bar. "I admire the bike, but not too much. You see, I ride cruisers. The big, bag road beasts built for long hauls. But, that's just me."Bratislav raised his glass in a toast. Assuming we were toasting to motorcycles and our own riding styles, I did, too. "So, Bratislav, what is the crime rate here? It just can't be as quiet as it looks."

I caught him mid sip. He looked like he had been stung by a bee or something. "Oh, no, Mark, it is. It really is."

"He means that it really is this quiet here," Vanja explained. "Drvar is out of the way and , since the war, it has been mostly quiet. I mean, there is some trouble with drunks, there are fights between neighbors, but that is all. It isn't anything, really. You get that whenever you have people close together. They get on each others nerves." I rather expected Bratislav to say that, but not Vadja. I looked over at Edvard.

"Really, it is quiet here. Nothing much happens." Edvard was nodding. Even the mafia knows not to crap in their own backyard, why would anyone here do that, I said to myself.

Looking at me and reading my face, Bratislav seemed to know what I was thinking. "You don't believe me." This was a statement, not question. This soon after a war diving people along ethnic lines and all had gone back to "it never happened here" was wrong. It was either a denial or a lie. It didn't seem likely that both Edvard and Vanja would swear to a lie like that. They weren't taking that line of bullshit, though. At least, I couldn't believe that they would.

"Your partner, Edvard, does not believe me. Maybe thinks that I am a liar?" Damn it, I had to work on my poker face.

"No. No, I don't think you're lying. I just doubt human nature. There are criminals here."

"Of course, there are criminals here, bad people." Bratislav assented. "But, these are petty crimes and little criminals, not murders or drugs or smuggling. I don't even have to beat any information out of them. We have issues with drunks, but doesn't everyone?" Now, he was justifying himself. Still, I couldn't fault him on that.

Vanja kicked Mark under the table and smacked my arm. She gave me an angry look. "Why are you doing this? Don't be so rude!" She looked at Bratislav, He is always a gracious host to us." Looking sharply at me, he finished, saying, "and you should be at least as gracious guest." Having said her peace, she straightened her back and turned her body slightly away from me, crossed her arms, and tilted her head up slightly.

"What? I'm just making conversation and getting," I noticed that Edvard was glaring at me. "Bratislav, I have to apologize. This was not intended to be a working round of drinks. Please, let me buy you one to make it up to you."

He waived of the offer of a drink on me, saying "Not to worry. I recognize that you are driven and focused. I can respect that." He looked at the others adding, "those are good qualities to have in police business and in your business." I didn't like being in a position of using a cover name and a cover story when the contacts and other operators already knew it. But, I also knew they were using covers as well. I looked over at the lone guy at the bar who was watching us. He had shifted and I could get a better look at him. His neck was almost as thick as most people's legs.

In order to keep thing more cordial I asked, "So, what is the night life like here? Any hot clubs?"

Laughing, Bratislav spread his arms in a gesture and said "Look around! There is nothing here, just a few coffee bars and some restaurants in Drvar. There is enough to keep people drunk and the locals entertained, but, to really party most people go to Livno or Prijedor." Putting his hands on the table Bratislav continued, "Everyone here knows that, if they get out of line the police will bust them up good. You know." He punched his right fist into his left hand. "The police here don't put up with shit. Hell, I do it myself, too, from time to time."

I shook my head. Police brutality was one of the things we were to look for. Somehow, getting roughed up by the police for general jackassery and being stupid was not considered brutal. it was what the locals expected.

The waitress returned and whispered into Bratislav's ear. He stood up, "Edvard, thank you for your time here. It has been good knowing you. Mark, I must apologize," he held his hand out and I took it. There was no game played this time. "There is some urgent business that needs my attention at the station." As he headed for the door Bratislav turned back to face us again. "I look forward to getting to know you, too, Mark."

As soon as Bratislav had left the bar the thick, heavy, bald guy at the bar thumped down some bills, got off his stool, and left. He looked our way as he left. It wasn't clear then if he was looking at the three of us or at me. I lit a fresh cigarette and breathed the smoke in deeply. It felt good. Relaxing some as I exhaled I told myself that going into things here alert was good, but paranoid was not.



(C) Copyright Marcel Trepanier 2013