The Town of Split lay innocently on the Adriatic Sea, its red tile roofs reflecting the countless centuries that it has been safe harbor for sailors and travelers alike. It was also a lay over spot for one Russian named Roman, whose fleet of Yachts and boats traveled in and out of its port.
Roman sat in a large dark wood paneled office the glassy sea lay calm and blue out the window behind the large desk. Two hooded figures sat across from him, their faces hidden from view, the dark brown robes in discord with the white shorts and loose blue shirt that Roman himself worn.
" We have started phase one of our operation, and your first payment has been deposited in the account, there will be another fifty million deposited in your account upon delivery of the girl and the two tons of material that is out lined in our agreement. "
Roman nods, he shifts casually in his chair, then leans forward.
" And how will I contact you, I have no number or adress to alert you to if there are problems ?"
The Two dark figures look at each other, a almost red glint comes from under the darkness of their hoods.
"We will contact you, we will know when things are ready, we are always watching."
" Ok then, that is fine" Roman seems unphased, but pushes his point.
"So what happens if there are problems and I need to change things around"
The two figures stand, and prepare to leave.
"Mr. Roman, we didn't hire you to call us with problems, it is your job to solve them, do not disappoint us in this matter, the High Priest will not be as kind as we have been, complete the job, and all things will be fine."
The two figures walk to a small black helicopter that sits on the back deck, its rotors turning slowly in the breeze, it seems to almost hang from the boat. They enter into a small door at the center of the flat black, and low profile bird, it almost seems to small to hold much more. Silently the rotors turn and the little machine hovers for a minute then moves swiftly out to sea, in less than two minutes its shape is lost in the horizon.
Roman swears, then turns to a large gray toned man, his bald head and broad shoulders poking out from the white tank top he has on.
"Go find the girl, and set the bait for the others, I want to stir things up a little."
"Yes sir. " The bulking frame of over six feet four inches heads toward a small speed boat tied to the back of the Yacht.
