The acrid smell of cigarette smoke mingled with diesel fumes as Lena Kovač stepped off the bus onto Tirana’s bustling Skanderbeg Square. She adjusted her backpack, scanning the crowd for her contact. The journalist’s sharp eyes darted from face to face, searching for the nervous energy she expected from an informant about to reveal dangerous secrets.
A warm breeze carried the sound of car horns and snippets of Albanian conversation. Lena’s gaze settled on a middle-aged man fidgeting near the base of the Skanderbeg Monument. His eyes met hers for a fleeting moment before darting away. That had to be him.
Lena approached casually, pretending to admire the massive equestrian statue. “Beautiful day for sightseeing,” she remarked in English, loud enough for the man to hear.
He visibly startled, then composed himself. “Yes, but sometimes the most interesting sights are hidden from view,” he replied, his accent thick.
The coded exchange complete, Lena turned to face him directly. “Arben?”
He nodded, eyes still roving the square. “We should not linger here. Follow me.”
Arben led her through winding streets, past crumbling Ottoman-era buildings and gleaming new developments. The contrast was stark – a city caught between its past and an uncertain future. They ducked into a small café, choosing a table in the shadowy back corner.
“So,” Lena began once they were seated, “you have information about arms trafficking?”
Arben’s fingers drummed a nervous rhythm on the tabletop. “Yes, but… it is dangerous. Very dangerous. I am not sure I should—”
“Mr. Hoxha,” Lena interrupted, leaning forward, “I understand your fear. But this story needs to be told. Lives are at stake.”
He swallowed hard, then nodded. “You are right, of course. It is why I contacted you. But you must understand – what I know, it goes beyond simple smuggling. There are powerful people involved, Miss Kovač. Military. Government.”
Lena’s pulse quickened. This was bigger than she’d anticipated. “Tell me everything,” she urged.
Arben opened his mouth to speak, then froze, his gaze fixed on something over Lena’s shoulder. Before she could turn to look, he abruptly stood. “Not here,” he hissed. “Meet me tonight. Midnight. The old bunker in Bunk’Art 1.”
With that, he hurried from the café, leaving Lena alone with her cold coffee and racing thoughts.
The rest of the day crawled by as Lena tried to piece together what little she knew. Her source at Europol had hinted at a major arms trafficking operation centered in Albania, but details were scarce. Now it seemed the conspiracy reached into the highest levels of power. If Arben’s information was solid, this could be the biggest story of her career.
As midnight approached, Lena made her way to Bunk’Art 1, a massive Cold War-era bunker on the outskirts of Tirana that had been converted into a museum. The place was eerie in the darkness, a concrete behemoth looming against the starry sky. She slipped inside, using the small flashlight on her keychain to navigate the labyrinthine corridors.
“Arben?” she called softly, her voice echoing. “Are you here?”
A shuffling sound came from up ahead. Lena rounded a corner to find Arben pacing in a small room filled with decommissioned military equipment.
“You came,” he said, relief evident in his voice. “I wasn’t sure…”
“Of course I came. Now, please, tell me what you know.”
Arben took a deep breath. “It starts with Major Ilir Çeku. He—”
The crack of a gunshot cut him off. Arben’s eyes went wide as a crimson stain blossomed on his chest. He crumpled to the floor.
Lena dropped to her knees beside him, pressing her hands to the wound. “Arben! Oh God, Arben, stay with me!”
His lips moved, but no sound came out. With a final, rattling breath, Arben Hoxha died.
Footsteps echoed down the corridor. Lena’s survival instincts kicked in. She scrambled to her feet and ran, deeper into the maze-like bunker. Her heart pounded as she turned corner after corner, praying she wouldn’t hit a dead end.
Finally, she found a small maintenance hatch. Lena squeezed through, emerging into the cool night air. She didn’t stop running until she reached her hotel, locking the door and sinking to the floor, gasping for breath.
As the adrenaline faded, the reality of what had happened hit her. Arben was dead. Someone had killed him to keep him quiet – and that someone knew she was involved now, too. Lena was no stranger to dangerous situations, but this was different. This was a whole new level of peril.
She spent a sleepless night poring over her notes, trying to connect the dots. Major Ilir Çeku – that was the name Arben had mentioned just before… Lena pushed the image from her mind. She needed to focus.
A quick internet search revealed that Major Çeku was a decorated officer in the Albanian Armed Forces. His official biography painted him as a war hero and pillar of the community. But if Arben was to be believed, it was all a façade.
Lena knew she should leave Tirana immediately. The smart thing would be to get out of the country and write up what she knew from the safety of Zagreb. But the journalist in her couldn’t let it go. She had to know more.
The next morning, she set out to do some old-fashioned legwork. Lena spent hours talking to shopkeepers, taxi drivers, anyone who might have seen or heard something unusual. Most were reluctant to speak, but she managed to glean a few tidbits. Whispers of late-night meetings at the port. Unmarked trucks coming and going from military bases. Nothing concrete, but enough smoke to suggest a fire.
As evening fell, Lena found herself in a run-down bar near the port, nursing a lukewarm beer and eavesdropping on the patrons’ conversations. Her Albanian was rudimentary, but she caught snatches here and there – enough to know she was on the right track.
“You are far from home, Miss Kovač.”
The voice behind her made Lena’s blood run cold. She turned slowly to find herself face-to-face with a man in his late forties, his military bearing unmistakable even in civilian clothes.
“Major Çeku, I presume,” she said, fighting to keep her voice steady.
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I see my reputation precedes me. May I join you?”
It wasn’t really a question. Çeku sat without waiting for a response, signaling the bartender for a drink.
“I must say, I admire your persistence,” he continued. “Most people would have fled the country after such a… unfortunate incident.”
Lena’s fingers tightened around her glass. “You mean Arben’s murder.”
“A regrettable necessity. Mr. Hoxha made some very poor choices.” Çeku’s tone was conversational, as if discussing the weather rather than a man’s death. “I had hoped you might be more reasonable.”
“Reasonable?” Lena couldn’t keep the anger from her voice. “You’re talking about illegal arms dealing. Weapons that are fueling conflicts, destroying lives—”
“I’m talking about business, Miss Kovač. Simple supply and demand. The world is a violent place. I merely provide the tools.”
“You’re a monster.”
Çeku chuckled. “Such moral certainty. How refreshing.” His expression hardened. “But also dangerous. I’ll give you one chance, out of professional courtesy. Leave Albania tonight. Forget what you’ve seen and heard. Go back to writing fluff pieces about Balkan cuisine or whatever it is you usually do.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then I’m afraid you’ll meet the same fate as poor Arben. It would be a shame. You’re quite beautiful, you know.”
Lena felt bile rise in her throat. She stood abruptly. “I think we’re done here.”
As she turned to leave, Çeku grabbed her wrist. “Remember, Miss Kovač. Tonight. Or else.”
Lena yanked her arm free and stormed out of the bar. Her mind raced as she walked quickly through the darkening streets. She had no doubt Çeku would make good on his threat. But she couldn’t let this story go. Too many lives were at stake.
Back in her hotel room, Lena paced, weighing her options. She could leave, try to write the story from afar. But without hard evidence, it would be her word against that of a respected military officer. She needed proof.
A crazy idea began to form. Çeku clearly hadn’t expected her to stay in Tirana after Arben’s murder. He might not have had time to cover his tracks completely. If she could get into his office, find some documentation…
It was insane. Suicidal, even. But it might be her only chance.
Lena spent the next few hours preparing. She used every contact she had, calling in favors and making promises she wasn’t sure she could keep. By midnight, she had a rough layout of the military base where Çeku’s office was located and a forged ID that might get her through the gate.
As she approached the base, Lena’s heart threatened to beat out of her chest. She forced herself to appear calm as she presented her fake credentials to the guard. For a heart-stopping moment, she thought he would see through the ruse. But then he waved her through.
Lena moved quickly through the quiet base, following the memorized path to the administration building. She encountered a few soldiers, but her confident stride and forged ID badge were enough to avoid suspicion.
Finally, she reached Çeku’s office. The door was locked, but the old pick set in her bag made short work of it. Lena slipped inside, using her phone’s flashlight to illuminate the room.
She rifled through drawers and file cabinets, acutely aware of every second ticking by. Just as she was about to give up, Lena found a hidden compartment in the desk. Inside was a ledger filled with dates, locations, and amounts. This had to be it – the record of Çeku’s illegal arms deals.
Lena quickly photographed every page with her phone. As she replaced the ledger, a voice from the doorway made her blood run cold.
“I must say, I’m impressed, Miss Kovač. I didn’t think you had it in you.”
She turned to find Çeku standing there, flanked by two armed soldiers. He looked almost amused.
“I warned you to leave,” he said, shaking his head. “Now I’m afraid we’ll have to do this the hard way.”
Lena’s mind raced. There had to be a way out of this. Her eyes darted around the room, looking for anything she could use as a weapon or distraction.
“Take her,” Çeku ordered his men.
As they moved forward, Lena made a desperate gamble. She lunged for Çeku’s desk, grabbing a heavy paperweight and hurling it at the overhead light. The room plunged into darkness as glass shattered.
In the confusion, Lena ducked low and ran. She could hear shouts and the sound of pursuit behind her as she sprinted through the corridors. An alarm began to blare, adding to the chaos.
Lena burst out of the building, gasping for air. The base was coming alive now, soldiers emerging from barracks. She needed to get out, fast.
Her eyes landed on a jeep idling nearby, its driver distracted by the commotion. Without thinking, Lena leapt into the vehicle and stomped on the gas. She crashed through the gate amid a hail of gunfire, praying none of the bullets found their mark.
The next hours passed in a blur. Lena abandoned the jeep on the outskirts of Tirana, then made her way to a safehouse arranged by one of her contacts. She spent the rest of the night sending encrypted files – copies of the ledger, her notes, everything she had – to trusted colleagues and news organizations around the world.
As dawn broke, Lena finally allowed herself to breathe. It was done. The story was out there now, beyond Çeku’s reach. Whatever happened to her, the truth would be known.
She stepped out onto the small balcony, watching the sun rise over Tirana. The city was waking up, unaware of the storm about to break. Lena knew her life would never be the same after this. She’d have to look over her shoulder for a long time to come.
But as she gazed out at the skyline, Lena felt a sense of peace. She had done what she set out to do. She had given voice to the voiceless, shed light on the darkness. Whatever the cost, it had been worth it.
The faint sound of sirens in the distance told her it was time to move on. Lena gathered her few belongings and slipped out of the safehouse. She melted into the morning crowd, just another face in the bustling streets of Tirana.
The story of Major Çeku’s arms trafficking ring would soon rock Albania to its core. But for Lena Kovač, it was just the beginning. There were always more secrets to uncover, more truths to be told. And she would be there, ready to shine a light into the darkest corners of the world.
As she boarded a bus bound for the border, Lena allowed herself a small smile. The next story was waiting. All she had to do was find it.