Part III

                                    

                                          
Robert and Kofi were an unlikely pair descending into the sleepy, Slovakian town. Robert was an American businessman. He'd probably be smoking a cigar somewhere while enjoying a glass of J&B (single, on the rocks) near a fireplace right now. A John Coltrane tune would be streaming off some device in the background. Kofi would most likely be here, as in, serving Interpol and helping out a friend. 
                          
They were also followed by Kofi's men. Mostly field agents. Mostly in their thirties. Mostly here for fun. When Simon had called Kofi, this had all sounded like it was going to be an operation off the books. Another favor for a friend. No records. Zero protocol. Finding guys to go play with guns in a foreign, non hostile country was like asking who wanted to play "cops and robbers?". Felix, Gaston, and Sydney had all answered Kofi's call, but to Robert they were just the hired help. Maids with guns. They mostly spoke in French to each other, too, which made Robert feel isolated. When Gaston asked Robert where they were going in English, he responded, "keep moving."
                          
Kofi, the entire time had been thinking about what had stopped the American from beating Pavol to death with his bare hands.
                          
Everything went to shit when Simon had left the room earlier. "What the hell are you grinning at?" Robert snarled uncharacteristically. To Kofi, the American in the room had seemed like a push over in an expensive suit. He was literally on the phone texting the entire time during the flight.
                          
"You don't understand," Pavol kept smiling, "you don't understand what you're dealing with here."
                          
"Oh, yeah?" Robert back handed him across the face, "then tell me what's going on here. You see, I'm the only guy here nobody has a record of. All these Interpol guys, they've got tags. Numbers. I'm the guy with them that nobody saw coming. I've got more money than god. Tell me where the hell my daughter is!" Robert's face had turned hot lava red. 
                          
Aboard the chopper, heading towards Genevieve, Simon had to make sure the American wasn't carrying a weapon, and he wasn't. So, in this context, Kofi didn't feel like Robert would really get "out of control".
                          
"You wouldn't believe it if I told you," Pavol had antagonized, spitting at Robert's shoes.
                          
Robert responded to that with a punch to the Slovakian's face, reminding him who was in charge. There was some more of this back and forth until finally Pavol was lying on his side and Robert hunched over him. Kofi couldn't exactly hear what the Slovakian said, but knew that he whispered something into Robert's ear that sent a chill down his spine. If Simon had comeback, Kofi had no idea what the American would've done.
                          
"He told me my daughter was down here," the American explained after finally Kofi inquired.
                          
"You believe that?" Kofi looked ahead as he asked. 
                          
"They say the word 'believe' means 'to hold something dear'. By that standard, yes, I believe she's down here. Is she up there in that building? No. Is it possible that she's down here? I believe maybe," Robert didn't sound too sure of himself, seaking slowly and carefully. 
                          
The town consisted of many cold, gray houses, and apartment buildings surrounding a tiny business district. Strange faces watched from inside their residences as the little unit wandered around. The streets were dirty and mostly made of brick, cobblestone, and some asphalt. There were some sidewalks, but mostly wider roads for people to walk on. There wasn't a single car driving or parked. Overall, it was a seemingly modern industrial town, but it was very run down, and over exerted looking. Barren, depressing, and dark. Out of the five men, nobody had a clue where you'd go about looking for a little girl in a place like this. 
                          
"Hey, look at this," Kofi picked up an 24" x 18" poster. They were littered everywhere. It featured a heidious rendering of a monster with horns and the title "Gruß vom Krampus: 5 Dec." 
                          
"It's German, I believe," Robert took out his smartphone and discovered it read "Greetings from the Krampus December 5th." He shrugged, lighting another cigarette.
                          
"Pssst. Quick. Get inside," a woman's face had popped out of a doorway. She had red hair, and a pale, white face. Kofi shrugged, as did the others, and they walked into this duplex type house. They followed this sultry redhead through her home admiring her backside more than her hospitality. She brought them to a kitchenette and living room type space that was warm and inviting. 
                          
"What smells so great?" Robert smiled. He was hungry. It had been a long day, and if what he smelled tasted half as good he's he okay with it. 
                          
"Oh, it's a wonderful goulash. Have you ever had goulash?" She asked, perky and seemingly willing to please. 
                          
"Of course, haven't we boys?" Robert looked at Kofi and his men who had never seemed to be less on his side than they did right now. Tough crowd, he thought. 
                          
"Pardon ma'am, but we're looking for a little girl. She goes by the name of Sylvia? You see, she's my daughter." 
                          
The woman fixed a few bowls for the men, and then handed them out. "We've all heard about the terrible things they were doing up at that building, sir. I do know where the missing children are. Please eat though."