But it’s hers.
I feel her essence everywhere.
I have been watching Lana for ages now, and being in her presence is so much better than watching her from afar.
But having our little conversation will do for now.
I’ll be seeing her again soon anyway. My thoughts are interrupted when my phone starts ringing.
Adam?
“Adam, what is it?” I ask him as I head down to my car.
“M, what are you doing right now?” he asks me as he is doing something himself. Am I hearing some ruffling in the background?
“I swear to God, Adam, if you and Sara are doing something right now—”
“Fuck no. Listen to me; I have Josh and Oliver with me right now while Sara is talking to Hana.” This can’t be good. Those four are only together when something bad has happened. I get into my car and connect my phone to the Bluetooth.
“Where are you?”
“We are at your apartment, M. Come quickly.”
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” I’m racing through the streets of Sarajevo, and it’s easy to drive quickly now because there is almost no one on the road.
I don’t even need a GPS because I know this city like the insides of my pockets.
I have properties all over the world, but this city? It’s my motherfucking city and playground.
And nobody stomps over my city.
After fifteen minutes, I arrive at my apartment, park my car, and take the elevator to the top floor. When I open the door, I see Sara and the three men sitting at my kitchen table. I take off my jacket and hang it in my closet in the hallway.
As I’m walking up to them, I notice sheets of paper on the table.
“What’s this?” I ask them as I sit down at the head of the table. I flip through the pages, and they are documents about the dealerships that burned down, along with some pictures.
“I think I asked you all a question seconds ago.” At this time, I don’t have any patience, and they sense my growing sense of irritability. Sara speaks first because she doesn’t fear anybody.
“M, we were here all evening because I noticed a pattern.” She grabs a document when my first dealership burned down.
“This is the dealership in Tuzla. It burned down five months ago. And this is your dealership in Banja Luka, that one burned down four weeks later.” Sara hands me the document with information about the dealership that got burned down after that.
“Zagreb. And the last one that burned down was right here in Sarajevo.” Sara lays out all the documents in order, from the first one that got set on fire to the last.
I keep looking at the papers, and my mind is weighing out all the different options. Could it be that someone is targeting me specifically, or is a former business associate seeking revenge? It wouldn’t be the first time.
The last competitor who tried to blackmail me with “proof” lost both of his thumbs.
But I don’t think the multiple arson counts were the work of a competitor, this seems calculated. When I look at Sara, she confirms my suspicions.
“M, what do all these places have in common?” she asks me as she crosses her arms.
Tuzla, Banja Luka, Zagreb, and Sarajevo.1
My brain catches on in an instant, and I take out a cigarette and light it up.
In Tuzla, my mother was born. In Banja Luka and Zagreb, my maternal grandparents were born. In Sarajevo, I was born.
