It’s been three hours.
Locked in the closet, I could monitor my own breathing. And the others’. So at least I knew we were all still alive. Other than that, I had no clue what was going on.
The three guys had gone quiet, but we knew they were still in the office because we hadn’t heard any doors opening or closing. I think one of them was talking on the phone but couldn’t be sure. Were they waiting for instructions from the big boss? Why hadn’t they killed us yet?
Try as I might, I couldn’t be mad at the American. It was a reflex action, he didn’t think twice about it.
Ljubica texted someone on her mobi a couple of hours ago. I don’t know who it was. We’re afraid to even whisper among ourselves.
My mission now is simple.
To stay sane.
To stay alive.
Star sem osemnajst let…Star sem devetnajst let…Star sem dvajset let…
There was a knock at the door.
Silence.
Another knock.
“Hallo!” a male voice called, and the door to the office opened. Somehow, the three idioti had forgotten to lock it after they’d shut us in the closet.
“Hallo,” he repeated, and spoke in good Slovene: “My name is Matej, and this is my wife Tina. We’re looking for a two-bedroom apartment in Šiška and would like to look at your listings. We — ”
And from inside the closet, off my head’s top, I shouted at my lungs’ top:
“May-sech-neh na-LEYP-keh! May-sech-neh na-LEYP-keh! May-sech-neh na-LEYP-keh!”
Some five seconds, or an eternity, passed in silence.
All hell then broke loose.
Dave, Ljubica and I began banging, kicking the door from the inside. The three idioti shouted at each other and at the apartment hunters.
Dave managed to get in a terrific kick, or maybe it was Ljubica, and the doors caved outward, broke down, and the three of us spilled out onto the floor.
I looked up at the three idioti. The older guy and the tall younger one were holding guns. The other one had a knife. Matej and Tina, a stylishly dressed couple in their early thirties, were both standing rooted to the floor in shock.
Ljubica stood up, grabbed a big tape dispenser from a desktop, and lobbed it at the tall guy’s head.
The older guy readied his pistol to shoot. Dave threw a wooden chair at him just as he fired, which deflected the bullet somewhere else, maybe into the chair or the wall.
“FREEZE!” shouted another voice.
Samo stood in the doorway, holding a Beretta handgun. “Hands in the air where I can see them, you guys. Up against the wall, bellies to the wall.”
He helped Ljubica, Dave and me to our feet and directed us to wait in the hallway while he waited for the policija to arrive.
*****
Freedom.
Dan neodvisnost. Independence Day.
Žur do zore.
Next: Last Bus to Črnuče
The Mesečnik Files 