The novel ‘A Woman between Two Men’, with an Albanian-American Theme, is authored by Carrie Hooper and Skifter Këllici
Mary tried to smile, but inside, she felt miserable. She recalled her time with Charlie. She had told Wilma that she had spent many exciting hours with him, and that was true. But she didn’t tell her she had resisted Charlie’s embraces and caresses, and her strange behavior had worn him out. He didn’t say it, but Mary thought he suspected she had acted this way because she was reliving that awful scene with Kreshnik in front of the restaurant. But he had been wrong about one thing: she had gone farther than he could ever have imagined. Not only had she met with Kreshnik and talked to him. She had also done the unthinkable: she had made love to him and when? Just last night, and this was why she didn’t want to make love with her fiance.
Max called Kreshnik the following evening and told him to come to his office immediately. He was surprised and had a premonition that after the events which Mary, now a forbidden dream, had told him about and the things he had seen that day on TV, that is, that the police were pursuing gangs of drug traffickers, Max had called him because of an emergency. Kreshnik saw a tall man, whom he assumed was a guard, in front of the door to Max’s office, who allowed Kreshnik to enter.
Max rarely turned on the television, but today was an exception. Pictures of a rock concert appeared on the screen. Lady Gaga, half-dressed, was performing. A group of half-dressed girls moved in time to the song, and thousands of spectators applauded with wild abandon. Max, covered with sweat, his hands shaking, grabbed several packets of drugs from a bag and put them in a large, black bag. Lady Gaga’s song seemed to bother him for without greeting Kreshnik, he said, “Turn that God-awful television off! It’s driving me crazy! We’re tearing our hair out while Lady Gaga is dancing around as if wanting to annoy us.”
Kreshnik was about to do what his boss had requested when a commentator appeared on the screen and said, “We interrupt Lady Gaga’s concert for a special report from our San Diego correspondent, Dick Robertson.”
“Don’t turn it off, Nik!” Max shouted, staring anxiously at the screen.
“I’m here live on Hancock Street in one of the suburbs of San Diego,” said the reporter. “I’m here with Captain Tim Jackson, one of the leaders of a successful blitz operation by the narcotics unit. He works for Ralph Kallagan, leader of another blitz operation which we will tell you about in our upcoming newscast. Captain Jackson, can you tell us about your operation?”
“As you can see from these pictures, the narcotics unit discovered a considerable quantity of drugs in a cellar in someone’s home. Members of the unit are in different parts of the house and are fighting with criminals who are resisting arrest. It appears they’re doing this to make it easier for other criminals to rid the cellar and other unidentified areas of drugs. They’re taking advantage of the darkness to move the drugs to other locations.”
In the meantime, one could see pictures of police officers shooting at the windows.
“Tim Jackson’s or Ralph Kallagan’s officers could catch us like they trap mice,” Max stammered, terrified.
Then turning to Kreshnik, he said, “That’s why I called you here, Nik. The drugs I’m putting in this bag, I want you to take them to the red house on Tremont Street. Expect the unexpected.”
Max handed him the bag.
“I chose you, Nik, because no one drives as well as you. Get going right now. Put the bag under the back seat of the car. Even if the narcotics officers catch you, they won’t find anything.”
Meanwhile, Mary and Charlie were in Mary’s apartment, anxiously following the narcotics unit’s operation. The same journalist continued his coverage of the events as they unfolded.
“Now we are bringing you images captured by a San Diego police helicopter. Our correspondent, Brian Terry, and our cameraman, Jim Foster, are in that helicopter.”
They showed the house, the scene of skirmishes between police and criminals. Then Brian Terry said, “The pictures you are seeing will put these events in perspective. Although it is nighttime, the lights allow you to see the criminals who are trying to carry bags of drugs from the cellar to a van. Meanwhile, as you can see, officers have entered the courtyard, and two criminals, who fired shots from the windows, have left that area.”
Charlie and Mary continued to absorb the images on the screen in silence.
“Now,” Brian Terry continued, “they are in the back of the courtyard. It appears they went down the hall and out the door. They are running to avoid capture by the officers, led by Scott Norton.”
“Scott!” Charlie said. “The one who came to the restaurant to take Kreshnik the drunk to the police station.”
Mary nodded.
“Charlie hates him so much!” she said to herself. “He would hate him even more if he knew …”
She did not finish the thought that still gnawed at her.
Brian Terry continued, “Meanwhile, you can see other officers face to face with criminals on the street, leading to the back of the house. Two of the criminals are throwing bags of drugs into the back of the van and are jumping into it. Another criminal is getting into the van. As you can see, he’s driving fast. I think you can hear one of the officers next to me in the helicopter asking the criminals to surrender.”
Indeed, Charlie and Mary heard the officer’s appeal in spite of the noise of the helicopter.
“But as you can see,” continued Brian Terry, “they will not surrender. Now the officers with me in the helicopter are shooting at the criminals. Their bullets have struck the moving van. One of the criminals is unable to close the back door. Meanwhile, officers, led by Scott Norton, have passed through the hallway and have entered the courtyard behind the house. Like the officers in the helicopter, they, too, have opened fire on the criminals. One of them just fell out of the van. It appears the police shot him on the street.”
“He deserved it,” said Charlie, clapping his hands and embracing Mary.
Anxiety gripped her. “I wonder if Kreshnik is among the criminals,” she said to herself.
“The driver of the van is trying to push through the officers blocking the road,” reported Brian Terry. “On the left side of your screen, you can see three officers with their weapons pointed at the van. But it appears the driver does not intend to surrender. He’s trying to push forward. He’s shooting at the police, and the police are shooting at him. The officer in the helicopter is shooting at him. As you can see, the van is zigzagging. It appears the driver has been shot. The van just hit a tree. You are looking at the back of the van. Two criminals got out and fell. They had gotten in a few minutes earlier. Scott Norton and other officers have pointed the barrels of their guns at them. Other criminals are throwing their weapons and raising their hands.”
Later, Charlie and Mary watched the commentator in the studio. He said, “We have brought you live coverage of the skirmishes at a home on Hancock Street in the suburbs of San Diego thanks to our dedicated correspondent, Brian Terry, and his cameraman, Jim Foster. The police successfully concluded their operation. Two criminals are dead, including the driver of the van, carrying the drugs. Two were wounded, and two others were arrested. Two officers were wounded, one seriously, but he is in good condition. In another operation, led by Ralph Kallagan, on the San Diego-Sacramento Express, four suspects were arrested. You can see them on your screen.”
Charlie looked at the images and pointed to one of them.
“Mary, isn’t that bearded guy on the left Nik the drunk?”
“No, Charlie,” said Mary, surprised. “Nik shaved his beard.”
“How do you know that?” asked Charlie.
“I happened to see him one day on the street,” Mary replied. She cursed herself for such a stupid answer.
“Did he stop you on the street?” asked Charlie.
“He didn’t even see me,” said Mary. Then, to keep Charlie from asking any more questions about Kreshnik, she said, “Let’s call Ralph.”
She grabbed her cell phone from her bag and dialed his number.
“Hello, Ralph,” she said. “Charlie and I wanted to congratulate you on your successful operation. We just saw the report on TV.”
Charlie took the phone from Mary and added, “We watched the arrests of those drug dealers with bated breath. How awful! It’s worse than in the movies. And when you think that happened live on television.”
“That was Scott’s doing,” said Ralph.
“You did the right thing assigning him to the narcotics unit. What do you say we celebrate your success?”
“Absolutely. How could I turn down such an invitation, especially from you, my dear scientist, who only thinks about his experiments. I’ll invite Scott, too, and of course his fiancee.”
“We also want to congratulate Wilma,” said Mary.
“Thank you.”
Mary dialed Wilma’s number.
Kreshnik drove to the house where he was supposed to leave the bag, filled with packets of drugs. He was exhausted.
To arrive there more quickly and avoid surprises, he turned down another street. He tried to go forward but at an intersection, he saw three cars which had stopped in front of him along the sidewalk, thus, blocking his way. He blew his horn but to no avail. Nervous, he turned around and was surprised to see two policemen checking the documents of the driver of the first car. Another policeman motioned to Kreshnik to stop as well.
Kreshnik got out of his car and walked over to the driver of the second car.
“Why the inspection?” he asked, his voice faint.
“Didn’t you watch the news tonight?” he asked.
“No, but I heard something.”
“It’s a war, my dear sir, a war with rifles and bullets, a fight to the death against the drug dealers. That’s why the police are out in full force.”
Kreshnik shuddered. One thought flashed through his mind: He had to get out of there as quickly as possible. He hurried to his car and backed up a little. But unbeknownst to him, he lightly brushed the right side of the car which, it appeared, was about to stop along the sidewalk. A short man with a mischievous look got out.
“What did you do to my car?” he grunted.
“I’m terribly sorry, Sir. It’s just a scratch,” said Kreshnik, pleasantly. “I’ll pay you right now for the damage. How much do I owe you?”
He pulled out some bills and handed them to him.
“Money won’t fix this problem. Only documents will,” the other man said. “You didn’t know that, Sir?”
“Please, I’m in a hurry. I have things to do,” Kreshnik pleaded.
“I’m in a hurry, too, but we must play by the rules.”
Then he shouted, “Officer!”
Wide-eyed with fright, Kreshnik got into his car and drove off. He almost hit a car which was coming toward him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the mischievous man, telling the policeman about him and pointing out his car to him, but he kept going. He was sure the man had pressed charges, and he was right.
In his mirror, Kreshnik saw a police car, then heard its siren.
On his radio, the officer who drove the car heard the voice of the officer at the street corner where he had stopped a little while earlier: “I repeat, Michael, the driver is a rather tall young man with broad shoulders and short, brown hair. He is wearing a purple leather jacket.”
“Copy that, Peter,” said the driver of the police car, an animated African-American with the appearance of a prankster. “I see he’s driving like a maniac. He appears to be in a hurry.”
“Try not to let him out of your sight.”
“I’m trying, but it’s difficult. The traffic’s getting heavier.”
Kreshnik passed a car. He almost hit another one that came up alongside him. Then he turned left onto a street with less traffic. He eventually stopped at a lingerie shop, got out of the car, took the bag out of the trunk, and entered the crowded store. Fortunately, there weren’t any guards around. Such people had an obligation and the right to search the bag of every customer before they left the shop, even Kreshnik’s big bag. Kreshnik tried to look as calm as possible.
From the window, he could see the street corner where he had left his car. Other cars went by, among them a police car, perhaps the one which had been pursuing him. He breathed a sigh of relief.
The store clerks were busy. Kreshnik pretended to look at shirts, sport jackets, and suits. Then he found the bathrooms and went into the men’s room. He turned his jacket inside out so the blue part was showing.
After looking at himself in the mirror, he took a wig, a grayish mustache and beard, a pair of sunglasses, and a sports helmet out of his bag.
Meanwhile, a police car, driven by the second officer, appeared on the street where the lingerie shop was located. He stopped and looked around. Suddenly, he spotted Kreshnik’s car and radioed the first officer.
“Peter, I see a black car, similar to the one that belonged to the guy who escaped, here at the entrance to Lincoln Street near a lingerie shop.”
“Stay there, Michael, and let me know if you see the guy. If you do, point the barrel of your revolver at his chest so he won’t cause any trouble. Be careful. The car could belong to someone else.”
“I will.”
Michael, the second officer, got out of the car, took a pack of cigarettes out of his pants pocket, and shook it. When he saw it was empty, he grew annoyed, threw the cigarette box on the ground, and smashed it with his foot. Then he leaned against the front of the car, crossed his arms, and waited.
Kreshnik put on the wig, beard, mustache, sports helmet, and sunglasses, then looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. He looked like a stately old man.
After looking at himself in the mirror, he took a brown gym bag out of his black bag. Its thin material had wadded up, so he flattened it and put it in the black bag which he held in his hand. He looked at himself in the mirror once more. He looked completely different. He opened the bathroom door a little and looked around the shop. Customers continued to come and go. Kreshnik came out of the bathroom and mingled with the crowd. No one recognized him. (Continues)
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About the Authors
Carrie Hooper was born and raised in Elmira, New York. She has been blind since birth. She received a B.A. in vocal performance from Mansfield University, Mansfield, Pennsylvania. She went on to receive an M.A. in German and an M.A. in vocal performance from the State University of New York at Buffalo. After completing her studies, she spent a year at the Royal University College of Music in Stockholm, Sweden as a Fulbright scholar. Carrie currently lives in Elmira, New York. She taught German, Italian, and Romanian at Elmira College. She has a passion for foreign languages and in addition to the languages mentioned above, she is also proficient in Swedish, Spanish, and Albanian. Music also plays an important role in Carrie’s life. She teaches voice and piano lessons, gives vocal concerts, plays the piano and organ at a church, and sings in a community chorus. Carrie not only loves music and languages, but also enjoys poetry. She has published three books: “Piktura në fjalë” (“Word Paintings”), a bilingual collection of poetry (Albanian-English), “My Life in My Words”, and “Away from Home.” She has also translated texts from Albanian and Romanian to English.
Skifter Këllici was born in Tirana, Albania and received a diploma in history and literature from the University of Tirana. He worked as a journalist, scholar, and sportscaster on radio and television. He is the author of several novels and nonfiction books, including the children’s books, “Memories of the Old Neighborhood” and “In the Footsteps” as well as the historical novels, “Assassination in Paris”, “The Murderer with the White Hands”, and “September Disaster.” He wrote the screenplay for “In the Footsteps” which won a special prize at the International Children’s Film Festival in Giffoni, Italy in 1979. He has lived in Boston, Massachusetts since 1999.
[The book ‘Disastrous September is being reproduced in episodes with the consent of the author]
