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PISE:DR.SLOBODAN RADOJEV MITRIC
 
TITOV OBAVESTAJAC
 
KNJIGA TITOV OBAVESTAJAC PISANA  JE 1974 GODINE NA SRPSKOM  JEZIKU U HOLANDSKOM ZATVORU...
PO NAREDJENJU HOLANDSKOG VISEG SUDA KNIGU JE NA HOLANDSKI JEZIK
PREVEO POKOJNI DR.MARIJUS BROEKMAJER - PROFESOR NA INSTITUTU ZA ISTOCNU EVROPU..
TADASNJA JUGOSLAVIJA JE ZAPRETILA DA CE DA POVUCE SVOG AMBASADORA - GENERALA MILOSA SUMONJU(JEDNOG OD AUTOROVIH TAJA SEFOFA, NAJTAJNIJE TITOVE KONTRAOBAVESTAJNE SLIZBE TAJNA) IZ HOLANDIJE U KOLIKO SE KNJIGA POJAVI U PRODAJI...
DESIMIR TOSIC (TO MU NIJE PRAVO PREZIME VEC SPIJUNSKO - BIJO JE SPIJUN MI6) DOBIO JE ORGINALNI RUKOPIS TITOVOG OBAVESTAJCA 1974 GODINE ...OBECAO JE DA CE CELU KNJIGU PUBLIKOVATI... ALI JE SAMO UZEO OVO STO CETE DOLE PRONACI... NAMERNO JE IZMENIO CINJENICE I IMENA MNOGIM LJUDI KOJI SE SPOMINJU U ROMANU...(STO CE U PRILOZIMA BITI ISPRAVLJENO)...
DESIMIR JE TO UCINIJO PO SAVETU JEDNOG BIVSEG SEFA UDBE (NESUDJENOG SEFA AUTORA) KOJI JE PREGAZIJO JEDNOG COVEKA U BLIZINI NOVOG SADA 1968 GODINE... TAJ VISOKI SLUZBENIK UDBE JE UHAPSEN I OSUDJEN.. POSLE IZDRZANE KAZNE - EMIGRIRAO JE U SVAJCARSKU.. DESIMIR TOSIC SE MNOGO PUTA SASTAJAO SA NJIM U VEZI OVE KNJIGE...
KNJIGA SE POJAVILA U STAMPI TEK  1981 GODINE...
BILA JE BESTSELER GDE JE RASPRODATO HILJADAMA PRIMERAKA ZA NEDELJU DANA...
STAMPANA JE PONOVO.. ALI HOLANDSKA DRZAVA JU JE ZAPLENILA...
 
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DR. SLOBODAN RADOJEV MITRIC 

 ISPOVEST JEDNOG RAZOCARANOG UDBASA
 FELJTON
DANAS
OD 14 APRILA 2004 GODINE  DO  10 MAJA 2004 GODINE
 PLAGIJAT:
ZORANA JOVANOVICA  & DESIMIRA TOSICA
 
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DRAGI CITAOCI LABORATORIJE SLOBODE
 
OVDE MORAMO DA NAPOMENEMO DA RADIMO NA TOME DA IDEMO DA  PREGOVARAMO SA  POSTOVANIM SRBSKIM DNEVNIM LISTOM  DANAS  OKO STETE KOJA JE NANETA SRBSKOM KNJIZEVNIKU SLOBODANU PIVLJANINU ..
JER GOTOVO MESEC DANA SRBSKA I CRNOGORSKA JAVNOST JE CITALA OVAJ FELJTON 2004 GODINE
GDE JE POCAST PO DRUGI PUT DOBIJO LITERARNI LOPOV ZORAN JOVANOVIC ..
(MI6 ZBIR DESIMIR TOSIC JE ISTI ROMAN BEZ ODOBRENJA SBSKOG KNJIZEVNIKA STAMPAO KRAJEM SEDAMDESETIH GODINA U KULTRNO UMETNICKOM PRILOGU EMIGRANTSKOG LISTA U VELIKOJ BRITANIJI = NASA REC= GDE JE TAKODJE SRSKI KNJIZEVNIK PODIGAO OPTUZNICU PROTIV TOG OPASNOG ENGLESKOG SPIJUNA I NJEGOVOG AJUTANTA ZORANA JOVANOVICA, ALI SRBOMRZCI U ZAPADNOJ EVROPI TO SU BACILI U KORPU ZA OTPATKE)...
TAKODJE PREGOVARAMO O MATERIJALNOJ STETI KOJU JE SRBSKI KNJIZEVNIK SLOBODAN PIVLJANIN
PRETRPEO ZBOG NAMERNE OBMANE SRBSKE I CRNOGORSKE  JAVNOSTI OD STRANE POSTOVANOG DNEVNOG LISTA DANAS..
OVDE SE OCIGLEDNO RADI O IZUZETNO VELIKOM KRIMINALNOM CINU NOVOG MILENIJUMA, GDE SE STVARNOM KNJIZEVNIKU ODUZIMA PO DRUGI PUT SVAKO PRAVO .. A NJEGOVO LITERARNO ROMAK-DELO ONDA SE STAMPA OPET POD LAZNIM IMENIMA ....
KNIZEVNIK SLOBODAN PIVLJANIN TO KRSTI:
LATENTNIM-SARIZMOM*...
.. ROMAN = ISPOVEST JEDNG RAZOCARANOG UDBASA IZ PERA  SLOBODANA PIVLJANINA (SLOBODAN RADOJEV MITRIC) = OBJAVLJIVAN JE U DNEVNOM LISTU DANAS; 2004 GODINE   = BEZ  DOZVOLE I ZNANJA SRBSKOG KNJIZEVNIKA SLOBODANA PIVLJANINA..
ROMAN SLOBODANA PIVLJANINA =ISPOST JEDNOG RAZOCARANOG UDBASA=
OBJAVLJIVAN JE U DNEVNOM LISTU DANAS= POD LAZNIM IMENOM..ZORAN JOVANOVIC...
STVARNI KNJIZEVNIK SLOBODAN PIVLJANIN PRETRPEO JE KAKO MORALNU TAKO MATERIJALNU STETU...
GDE CE, NADAMO SE, POSTOVANI DNEVNI LIST DANAS , TO ISPRAVITI I SA SRBSKI KNJIZEVNIKOM
SLOBODANOM PIVLJANINOM POSTICI OBOSTRANI POVOJAN DOGOVOR...
 
O SVEMU OVOM, DRAGI CITAOCI , NAKNADNO CE MO VAS OBAVESTITI..
 
SRDACNO
 
L' ATELIER DE LA LIBERTE
 
 
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TITOV OBAVESTAJAC JE U PRIPREMI DA BUDE PUBLIKOVAN NA ENGLESKOM JEZIKU
 
 
 

SRPSKA ARMIJA Br.24-158

SRPSKA ARMIJA Br.24-158-a

SRPSKA ARMIJA Br.24-158-b

SRPSKA ARMIJA Br.24-158-c

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ISPOVEST JEDNOG RAZOČARANOG UDBAŠA

sreda, 14. april 2004.

 

http://www.danas.co.yu/20040414/feljton1.html#2

 

Potraga za špijunima ubačenim u kasarnu

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ZORAN JOVANOVIĆ
Bilo je proleće.
Sve je odisalo životom, oblaci su ipak nadletali nebom!
Bio sam tada vojnik - remac, u Slavonskoj Požegi.
Prva tri meseca u toj kasarni život je tekao bez ikakvih trzavica.
Jednog dana narediše da se ceo moj vod postroji ispred kasarne i počeše da nam oduzimaju sve što smo imali kod sebe! Niko nije smeo da se buni, iako nam je bilo jasno šta se želi ovom komedijom.
Vratili su nam zatim sve stvari. Zadržali su samo hemijske olovke. Prethodno je svako od nas morao da napiše svoje ime svojom olovkom!
Posle ovog neobičnog pretresa poče se pričati po kasarni da su među nas ubačeni špijuni. Da su se pojavili nacistički znaci u nužnicima i po zidovima kasarne - i da se može svašta desiti. Mene i sve moje drugove poče obuzimati strah; bili smo vrlo mladi, jedva da je neko od nas bio stariji od dvadeset godina. Meni je bilo svega devetnaest. Tek sam te godine počeo da se brijem. Strah od špijuna pravio je bore na mom golobradom licu. Plašio sam se špijuna više nego smrti!
Nije prošlo ni dva dana od ove ceremonije sa hemijskim olovkama, počeše ponovo pretresi i saslušavanja. Tih dana pobegoše iz kasarne moja tri druga: Žorž, Bokan i Miša. Nasta uzbuna i svi dobismo punu ratnu spremu. Pronela se vest da su ti moji drugovi špijuni i da su pobegli prema austrijskoj granici, ali da im je kontraobaveštajna služba za petama.
Počeše kružiti i druge vesti, da su podmetnute tempirane mine i da svakog trenutka kasarna može odleteti u vazduh! Tu paniku prekide grubi glas našeg komandanta bataljona, majora Đure. Naređivao je ljutito i veoma snažnim glasom da se odmah vratimo u kasarnu jer su begunci već uhvaćeni.
Sa ovom trojicom poznavao sam se još iz Beograda. Igrali smo se zajedno kao deca i zato mi nikako nije išlo u glavu da su oni špijuni! Sada sam dobio sasvim drukčiju sliku o špijunima - znači da špijun može biti svako.
Sutradan, pre postrojavanja za odlazak na zanimanje, saopštio mi je desetar da moram da se javim na raport komandantu bataljona majoru Đuri.
Stajao sam mirno. Izgledao sam kao zapaljena voštana sveća niz koju se sliva vosak - niz mene se slivao znoj.
Major Đura je bio u društvu sa jednim kapetanom prve klase. Razgovarali su o nečemu ne obraćajući na mene pažnju kao da uopšte ne postojim. Počeo sam da podrhtavam, jer je već prošlo najmanje desetak minuta kako sam ušao u kancelariju, zauzeo stav mirno i rekao: Zoran Jovanović, vojnik trećeg bataljona, prve čete, prvog voda treće desetine, na raspolaganju, druže majore.
Pošto major Đura nije rekao da stanem na mestu voljno, nastavio sam da stojim u stavu "goruće sveće", čekajući željno tu komandu, a minuti počeše da se otežu u sate! Najzad, onaj kapetan za vezu pogleda na mene, pa kao čudeći se šta ja tražim ovde, povika snažno kao da sam stogodišnji gluvi starac:
- Druže Zorane, na mestu voljno!
Posle tog njegovog gromovitog glasa, lice mu se razvuče u široki i ljubazan osmeh pun neke topline, kao da smo rođena braća.
Ovaj kapetan je bio visok skoro dva metra. Cela njegova pojava odavala je sliku pravog vojnika, njegov glas i njegov lik bili su čvrsti kao stena. Najviše se uplaših kad mi onaj vitki kapetan pruži ruku rekavši: "Ja sam kapetan Žarko. Zvao sam te, Zorane, da mi u nečemu važnom pomogneš."
Nisam verovao svojim ušima. Zbunjeno sam držao njegovu ruku u svojoj, dok je on smešeći se piljio duboko u moje oči.

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*        Nastavlja se

 

 

 

ISPOVEST JEDNOG RAZOČARANOG UDBAŠA (2)

četvrtak, 15. april 2004.

 

http://www.danas.co.yu/20040415/feljton1.html#2

 

Možeš li rukom da razbiješ ciglu

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ZORAN JOVANOVIĆ
Baš sam malopre telefonirao tvom ocu. Mnogo te je pozdravio. Rekao je da veruje da ćeš osvetlati obraz svojoj porodici (priča kapetan glavnom junaku Zoranu, prim. ur).
Slušajući ove reči još više se zbunih. Bilo mi je nejasno celo ovo njegovo ponašanje, a naročito da je zvao telefonom moga oca! Obuze me neka strepnja. Osećao sam da se nešto važno desilo. Uplašio sam se da nije neko slagao da sam ja pisao one kukaste krstove. Umalo se htedoh zaplakati i početi da molim da mi veruje da ja to nisam učinio, kada mi tu misao prekide ponovni Žarkov glas:
- Druže Zorane, izvoli sedi.
Žarko mi rukom pokaza bogato ukrašenu fotelju u uglu sobe. Izvadi tabakeru sa cigaretama i pružajući je ka meni reče:
- Izvoli zapali, druže Zorane.
"Ne hvala, ja ne pušim", promucah. Odbih i jedva uspeh da izustim tu reč. Nešto me je stezalo u grlu, oduzimao mi se dah. Graške znoja slivale su mi se niz lice i drhtava prsa.
- Lepo je što ne pušiš. Ja bih bio srećan kad bih mogao da ostavim duvan. A da li piješ?
"Ne, rekoh, niti pijem niti pušim".
- Pa ti si onda zbilja grom momak!
Nasmeši se prema meni i namignu majoru Đuri, koji je samo žmirkao i brisao oznojeno čelo.
- Čuo sam da treniraš karate - reče kapetan Žarko, sada nekim novim glasom koji je ličio na laskanje i na provokaciju. "Da", rekoh.
- Znači ti možeš golom rukom da razbiješ ciglu.
"Ne", odgovorih malko smelije. Bilo mi je krivo što svi zamišljaju karate-sportistu kao nekog razbijača cigala - kao nekog zidara! Karate je u stvari jedna vrsta umetnosti čvrsto vezana za filozofiju zen. Cilj treniranja karate je da se što bolje iskoristi zakržljala energija u telu čoveka. Samo neupućeni dovode uvek u vezu sport karate sa razbijanjem cigala!
- Znači ne možeš da razbiješ ciglu. E, onda si slab karatista, - reče kapetan Žarko i poče da se krevelji sav razdragan od nekog samo njemu poznatog zadovoljstva. Meni sve to postade odvratno pa odgovorih da ne mogu, kao neki prkos na kapetanovo izazivanje, a u stvari mogu da razbijem i dve cigle. To razbijanje je samo jedan deo karate-sporta i zove se tamašivari.
- A možeš li da razbiješ bar jedan crep?, nastavi kapetan Žarko uporno svoje ispitivanje. "Ne vala, ni jedan crep", odgovorih nekim i meni čudnim glasom.
- Kakav karate pojas imaš - upita kapetan zlobnim glasom.
"Crni", rekoh.
- Crni - ma ‘ajde beži! Hoćeš reći da si majstor u karateu!
"Da", rekoh. Pravi majstor i dodadoh malko ironičnim glasom: "a ne zidar", jer mi sada ovaj nekada simpatični kapetan postade dosadan i glup kao vo.
- Ja - ja. Nema veze. Nisam te ja zvao zbog karatea, već da mi odgovoriš na nekoliko pitanja.
Major Đura se podiže sa svoje stolice i poče da šeta po kancelariji. On je bio uvek strog. Malo je govorio, a ono što bi kazao uvek je bilo promišljeno. Za vreme rata komandovao je bataljonom u čuvenoj Dalmatinskoj brigadi. Iz rata je izneo živu glavu kao šibica. Oči su mu svetlucale kao u sove, nikad se nije moglo pronići u njih i doznavši šta smera. Major je najednom otvorio vrata i izašao u hodnik i tako smo ja i kapetan Žarko ostali sami. Kapetan se malko nakašlja, pa pošto mi ponovo ponudi cigaretu, i ja ponovo odbih, poče staloženo i sa neke visine da pripoveda:
- Znaš, Zorane, s obzirom da potičeš iz dobre porodice, s obzirom da lično poznajem tvog oca, obzirom da njega cenim kao borca i komunistu, ja kroz njega gledam i tebe i zato očekujem da sa mnom budeš iskren i da mi na svako pitanje odgovoriš tačno i bez bojazni da će to neko saznati.

Nastavlja se

 

 

 

 

ISPOVEST JEDNOG RAZOČARANOG UDBAŠA (3)

petak, 16. april 2004.

 

http://www.danas.co.yu/20040416/feljton1.html

 

Razgovori o bežanju u Austriju

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ZORAN JOVANOVIĆ
Znaš, Zorane, s obzirom da potičeš iz dobre porodice, s obzirom da lično poznajem tvog oca, s obzirom da njega cenim kao borca i komunistu, kroz njega gledam i tebe i zato očekujem da sa mnom budeš iskren i da mi na svako pitanje odgovoriš tačno i bez bojazni da će to neko saznati (nastavio je kapetan pošto je major izašao iz prostorije, prim. ur.). Ti znaš šta se ovih dana desilo u tvom bataljonu. Verujem da ima mnogo toga da mi kažeš što ja ne znam. I zato sam te pozvao da kao ljudi pošteno i drugarski pomognemo jedan drugome. Prvo mi reci odakle poznaješ onu trojicu: Žorža, Bokana i Mišu?
OPET OSETIH NJEGOV PRODORAN POGLED I JEDVA SKUPIH SNAGU DA ODGOVORIM:
- Mislim oko godinu dana. Možda i više. Ali ja njih poznajem kao komšije. Ovde se u stvari više družimo.
- O čemu ste poslednji put razgovarali? Da li ste se dogovaralil da zajedno bežite u Austriju?
- Ko se dogovarao? - upitao sam umesto odgovora, iako sam dobro znao da smo se dogovarali, ali to je bilo mladalačko hvalisanje i ništa više. Mislim da je to bežanje u Austriju prvi pomenuo baš Žorž. Docnije smo zaboravili na to tobožnje bekstvo. Mučilo me je pitanje: ko li je sve to mogao odati kapetanu Žarku?
- Znači da ti ništa ne znaš o tome - reče kapetan.
- Naravno da ne znam - odgovorih ubedljivo.
- Dobro, onda ću ti ja pomoći.
Kapetan Žarko zapali cigaretu i poče da se šeta po sobi gore-dole i tiho da izlaže svoju priču:
- Meni je, Zorane, žao što si upao u ovo blato. Ali se nadam da ćeš, kad sve saslušaš, ipak biti pošten i priznati. Ti dobro znaš šta znači planirati bekstvo u inostranstvo. To se zove dezertirati i zbog toga se ide pod vojni sud koji nimalo nije milostiv prema takvim tipovima. Naravno, ta se neugodnost može izbeći, ali za to je potrebno biti pošten. Ja znam da ste mladi ljudi, ali ipak, ovo je vojska i tu nema lale-mile. Drugo, ti si još pre vojske zabrljao. Uskoro treba da ideš na suđenje zbog onih provala koje si počinio prošle godine. Zamisli kakvo će mišljenje steći sud kada mi odavde pošaljemo svoje preporuke! Onda ti ne gine dugogodišnja robija. Ja sam razgovarao s tvojim ocem o svemu. On ti poručuje da ga više ne brukaš. A ti, Zorane, dobro znaš da je tvoj otac vrlo pošten čovek i da nije red da sada pod starost pati zbog tebe. Mislim da to nije ljudski što činiš. Ali evo, ja ti garantujem da ću ti pomoći u svemu, samo budi iskren. I zbog onih provala takođe ti se može progledati kroz prste. Reci mi ko je pisao one kukaste krstove u vašem bataljonu?
- Ne znam.
- Ne znaš ili se plašiš da te kasnije oni tipovi ne izudaraju?
- Ne, nije to, nego ja ništa ne znam.
- Dobro, Zorane, onda nas dvojica namamo o čemu da razgovaramo. Vrati se u svoju jedinicu, pa ako se slučajno predomisliš, javi dežurnom da želiš da me vidiš, a sad marš napolje.
Sutradan sam od majora Đure dobio sedam dana zatvora zbog tobožnjeg pravljenja nereda! Zatvorili su me u istu ćeliju sa Žoržom, Bokanom i Mišom. Sva su trojica bila vezana lancima. Žoržu je cela glava bila modra. Kaže da je to "zaradio" u razgovoru sa kapetanom Žarkom. U podne smo dobili hranu. Nisam mogao da jedem. Bilo mi je muka - povraćao sam. Oko tri sata pozvao me je dežurni da dođem u kancelariju kapetana Žarka. Kada stupih u kancelariju, kapetan mi reče smejući se:
- Dobro, Zorane, onda nas dvojica nemamo o čemu da razgovaramo.

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*        Nastavlja se

 

 



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ISPOVEST JEDNOG RAZOČARANOG UDBAŠA (4)

subota-nedelja, 17-18. april 2004

 

http://www.danas.co.yu/20040417/feljton1.html

 

Između ljubavi prema drugu i prema verenici

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ZORAN JOVANOVIĆ
Nisam više odgovorio i kapetan je nastavio: - U pet sati treba da dođe Olgica. Mislim da nećeš biti toliko tvrdoglav i primorati me da ti jednostavno zabranim sastanak s njom. Samo sa malo dobre volje s tvoje strane možeš postići da ti dam dozvolu da s njom provedeš celih dvadeset i četiri sata u gradu.
Kad sam čuo Olgičino ime, srce mi se steže! Oglica je moja verenica. Mnogo sam je voleo i prošla su već puna tri meseca kako je nisam video. Odjednom osetih gađenje prema kapetanu Žarku. Zar mora da bude baš toliko bezdušan i bezosećajan. Znao je vrlo dobro da ja volim Olgicu i zato je izabrao nju "da mi otvori usta". I u meni počeše da se bore dva bića. Ljubav prema drugu i ljubav prema verenici. Pobedila je ova druga. Bio sam suviše labilnog karaktera da bih mogao i dalje da ćutim. Jedino sam uspeo da ne odam baš sve. Tražio sam mogućnost da dobijem u vremenu.
- Dobro, rekao sam, pustite me da se sastanem sa Olgicom, pa ćemo kasnije o svemu razgovarati.
- Je li to časna reč, upita Žarko smešeći se zadovoljno.
- To je moja reč, a kada ja dam reč onda ću je i održati.
- U redu, imaš za dvadeset i četiri sata dozvolu za izlazak u grad.
Slobodan dan sa Olgicom prošao je vrlo brzo. Ispratio sam je na stanicu i vratio se u kasarnu. Kapetan Žarko me je odmah pozvao u kancelariju kod sebe. Sećam se, bio je utorak. Iako je bio mesec maj, sunca uopšte nije bilo. Verovatno da i nebo ima uticaja na ljude. Ovog sumornog dana izgledalo mi je da nebo plače zbog mene - plakalo je što sam svoju dušu prodao bezdušnicima!
- Pa kako si se proveo, Zorane - upita kapetan Žarko, a ono Zorane izgovori tako toplo i umiljato, da bi svako poverovao da potiče od srca. A ja sam znao da Žarko uopšte više nema srca i da sve te lepe reči dolaze iz njegovih pluća, gde se nekada nalazila njegova duša, koju je davno prodao đavolu, kao što i ja prodajem svoju ovoga dana.
- Lepo sam se proveo, druže kapetane Žarko - odgovorio sam istim glasom. Glasom koji razumeju samo podmukle hijene - glasom koji razumeju vuci u jagnjećoj koži.
- Danas treba da idemo kod jednog druga iz KOS-a. Drugo, dobio si poziv od Beogradskog sreskog suda. Tamo treba da te kroz dva dana osude ili oslobode. Imaj to na umu. Danas od tebe zavisi kako ćemo ti pomoći.
Ćutao sam. Osećao sam veliko gađenje prema ovom na izgled simpatičnom oficiru. Nisam mogao da verujem da takav čovek može biti toliko podao i toliko pokvaren, a da tako naivno deluje! Nisam mogao da se uzdržim pa sam mu prilično drsko rekao:
- Znači, želite da od mene napravite cinkaroša?
Kapetan Žarko mi stavi ruku na rame i potapša me prijateljski.
- Niko tebe, Zorane, ne prisiljava da bilo šta kažeš, to treba da ti bude jasno. Mi nešto znamo, ali ti treba da budeš iskren prema nama i kažeš ono što mi ne znamo. Ne primer, ko je od vas četvorice pisao one kukaste krstove?
Iako sam očekivao to pitanje, kada sam ga čuo strašno me je uplašilo. Učinilo mi se kao da sumnjaju baš na mene. Znao sam ko je pisao te krstove, ali sam isto tako znao ih je pisao samo u znak nekog mladalačkog protesta. Taj moj drug je više mrzeo Nemce i kukaste krstove nego li kapetan Žarko. Pisao ih je da bi se pravio važan i pokazo da se ničega ne boji. A ja ga sada svojim priznanjem mogu oterati na robiju, i zato odlučih da to ime ne izgovorim i da ta tajna umre u meni. Ali moja čvrsta odluka bila je kratka veka. Čim kapetan Žarko poče da mi dočarava primamljive priče, kako bih ja mogao postati nešto veliko što svako ne može postati, meni se odveza jezik kao da sam najveća tračara u celom svetu!
- Zamisli, Zorane, ti bi mogao mnogo pomoći svojoj otadžbini. Ja sam čvrsto uveren da si ti rođen da budeš tajni agent.
Posmatrao me je sa divljenjem kao da sam neko kome se zaista treba diviti! Bio sam slab i brzo sam podlegao Žarkovom laskanju.
- Ti bi na primer za nekoliko meseci mogao stupiti u našu tajnu službu. Ubeđen sam da od tebe može postati čudo od čoveka...
Prekinuli smo razgovor, jer smo morali poći na zakazani sastanak u štab KOS-a pri vojnoj pošti gde sam služio vojni rok.
Iznenadila me zgrada gde je smešten štab KOS-a; to je bila ambulanta naše kasarne! Na prvom spratu nalazila se privremena bolnica. Dole u prizemlju bile su smeštene čekaonice za pregled i kancelarije za medicinsko osoblje. Nigde ni traga od štaba KOS-a! Ali zato, na poslednjem spratu bio je neupadljivo smešten taj štab!
Ušli smo u kancelariju, majora koji je bio šef štaba. Stao sam mirno i vojnički pozdravio jednog majora četrdesetih godina. Bio je već prosed i delovao je vrlo čudnovato. Njegovo ponašanje je bilo tako uljudno i prijateljsko, da sam prosto uživao da ga gledam i slušam.
- Zdravo, momčino! - pružio mi je ruku dok sam ga nemo posmatrao. Ja sam još od rođenja bio naviknut na uniforme. I moj otac je bio oficir pri miliciji. Gdegod smo živeli očevi prijatelji su bili vojna lica. Poznavao sam mnogo oficira, ali tad, kada sam postao vojnik, shvatio sam da se sa njima ne može biti iskren prijatelj. U odnosu sa njima uvek je sledovalo ono jasno i kratko "razumem", pa razumeo ili ne, to nije bilo važno. Zato, sada kada sam upao u škripac zbog svojih drugova, nikako mi nije bilo jasno da su se najednom svi ti strogi oficiri toliko izmenili! Žarko je skoro dozvolio da ga oslovljavam sa "ti", a ovaj major, koga sam sada prvi put video, iako sam u ovoj kasarni već puna tri meseca, počeo je odmah da se šali sa mnom kao da smo dugogodišnji poznanici i prijatelji!
- Kako napreduješ sa karateom? Mora da si opasan? Mnogo sam slušao o tebi. A sad, kada te vidim, ne bih rekao da si baš toliko opasan. Mora da te više hvale nego što to vredi. Šta kažeš, da li sam u pravu, lafčino?
Tapšao me je po ramenu. To tapšanje je počelo još od juče od Žarka i nimalo mi se nije svidelo. Plašilo me je to preterano prijateljstvo.
- Pa, momčino, reci kako ti se sviđa ovde kod mene? Posmatrao sam taj štab kontraobaveštajne službe. Zidovi su bili prekriveni sa bezbroj karata. Jedino sam prepoznao geografsku kartu Jugoslavije.
- Jesi li za kafu, upita me major.
Njegova sekretarica, jedna omanja dvadesetgodišnja crnka, uz najljubazniji osmeh stavi na sto pred nas tri šoljice turske kafe.
- Ko je pisao one kukaste krstove? Ajde reci, pa da se više ne bakćemo oko toga. Nije to za nas baš mnogo važno, ali eto uzgred da i to okončamo.
Ne znam kako se to zbilo. Jednostavno pre nego što sam mogao čuti svoj sopstveni glas, rekoh:
- Mišo.
- Dobro, Zorane. Vratićeš se opet u zatvor i nastoj da doznaš od Žorža zašto on tako uporno izigrava ludaka. Samo pazi da se ne primeti da smo se mi ovde o tome dogovorili i da ovde postoji služba Kosa.
- Prekosutra ćeš otići na sud u Beograd. Tamo ćeš biti osuđen, ali to ne znači da ćeš kaznu i odležati.
Dugo smo razgovarali. Ispitivao me o svemu i svačemu a ja sam brbljao kao da sam drogiran. U stvari i jesam bio drogiran, samo je to bila neka čudna droga cinkaroša. Najednom sam dobio neodoljivi prohtev da cinkarim. Čudilo me je otkud mi toliko snage i talenta da tako brzo postanem takav režimski dostavljač!
Tog, sam dana postao najsrećniji čovek na svetu. Sam sam sebi šaputao: Zoran Jovanović - tajni agent! Zamišljao sam sebe u dostojanstvenoj pozi. Gledao sam sebe kako mi se svi dive i gledaju sa strahopoštovanjem. Kako stojim uspravno nakićen odlikovanjima kao novogodišnja jelka i prkosim svima!
Osećao sam neku neopisivu sreću i ponos. Nekada sam mnogo čitao o špijunima i njih se plašio, i zato sam sada bio ponosan što ću i ja postati špijun i kako će se mnogi i od mene plašiti. Imao sam svega devetnaest godina, ali sam se osećao najmoćnijim na svetu!
Bio sam rođeni optimista i izgledalo je da mi se najzad pružila prilika da daleko doteram. Trebalo se jedino odreći poštenja. Odreći se svoga karaktera, izgubiti dušu i uspeh bi bio zagarantovan. Nisam ni slutio šta me čeka.
Prošlo je skoro nedelju dana kako sam se vratio iz Beograda. Osudili su me na 18 meseca zatvora s tim da kaznu izdržim posle odsluženja vojnog roka. Kada sam sve to ispričao Žarku i majoru Đoki, samo su se nasmejali i major Đoka mi reče:
- Ništa ne brini. Ja sam već udesio da ti se kazna pretvori u uslovnu.
Sutradan mi je kapetan Žarko saopštio da ću biti otpušten iz armije kao stalno nesposoban. I zaista, uskoro sam već bio u Beogradu. Moja majka se prilično uplašila, jer sam navodno bio otpušten iz vojske kao težak srčani bolesnik. Jedino je moj otac znao razlog zbog kojeg sam izišao iz armije. Rekao mi je da je to lepo od mene što sam se najzad opametio i pošao putem koji vodi zajedničkom dobru. Da se on ponosi što sam postao tajni agent i da veruje da ga nikada neću obrukati.
Kapetan Žarko je takođe prešao u Beograd i sastajali smo se skoro svakog dana. Posle desetak dana upoznao me je sa jednim starijim čovekom, po imenu Mićo. Stanovao je u blizini moje zgrade. Mićo je po dogovoru sa kapetanom Žarkom počeo da me uči raznim veštinama. Učio me je rukovanju oružjem. Odlazili smo često na jedan vojni poligon na Batajnici, gde smo pucali iz raznih pištolja do iznemoglosti. Bio sam prilično dobar strelac.

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ISPOVEST JEDNOG RAZOČARANOG UDBAŠA (6)

utorak, 20. april 2004.

 

http://www.danas.co.yu/20040420/feljton1.html#2

 

Prvi put u inostranstvo i to kao agent

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Zoran JOVANOVIĆ
Putovao sam vozom, punih četrdeset i osam sati preko Italije i Švajcarske, dok sam konačno stigao u grad mojih mladalačkih snova - u Pariz! (gde je trebalo da ima prvi važni zadatak kao agent, prim. ur.)
To je bilo moje prvo putovanje u inostranstvo. Osećao sam veliko uzbuđenje. Plašila me je pomisao da neću biti u stanju da uspešno obavim zadatak koji me očekuje u Parizu. Kada sam izašao iz voza na stanici Gare de Lyon, jedva sam se snašao, iako sam još pre polaska iz Beograda naučio nešto francuski.
Celim putem sam se sećao saveta koji mi je Mićo bezbroj puta ponavljao: kada stigneš u nepoznato mesto, počni odmah od stanice da snimaš okolinu. Zapamti najveće i najupadljivije zgrade, spomenike i mostove. Nikad ne sedaj odmah u taksi.
Dan je bio sunčan. Voz je stigao u Pariz tačno u 10 sati. Putovao sam u kupeu zajedno sa grupom studenata koja se vraćala iz Lozane. U grupi je bila i jedna lepa studentkinja prava. Pričala je oduševljeno o Jugoslaviji i hvalila jadransko Primorje, gde je letovala prošle godine. Pitala me je zašto dolazim u Francusku? Slagao sam je već unapred pripremljenim odgovorom, da treba da treniram karate kod jednog Japanca. I da sam, na moju veliku žalost, izgubio na putu njegovu adresu i da ću sada morati da uložim mnogo napora dok je pronađem.
Ona se zvala Liz. Odmah se najljubaznije ponudila da zajedno tražimo tu adresu. Rekla mi je da njen brat takođe trenira karate, ali da je tek početnik u tom sportu. Stanovala je na Monparnasu. Sada mi se učinila još lepšom. Bila je stara svega dvadeset i jednu godinu. Nije mi nimalo smetalo što je starija od mene. Zakazali smo sastanak u 6 uveče na stanici Gare de Lyon. Proveo sam skoro svo vreme čekajući je na ovoj stanici. Prošetao sam se oprezno do Bastilje i brzo se vratio na stanicu. Bojao sam se da se ne izgubim.
Liz je stigla tačno u 6 sati, vesela i razdragana. Na sebi je imala mini suknjicu i delovala je neodoljivo! Nisam mogao da prikrijem svoje divljenje. Ona je to primetila i godilo joj je.
Pitala me je gde sam se smestio.
- Nisam još nigde. Ima vremena.
- Ti si lud, rekla je smejući se i osetih kako njeni kadifasti prsti klize glatko po mojoj ogromnoj šaketini.
- Večeras ćeš biti moj gost, reče iznenada. Hoćeš li da idemo kod mene?
- Pa zašto to nismo jutros učinili - upitah naivno.
- Jutros nismo mogli, jer je u mom stanu bio neko koga sam morala da najurim i sada je stan prazan, reče Liz smejući se vragolasto i pohotljivo.
Iako je ulica bila puna sveta, zgrabio sam je iznenada i poljubio. Posle dužeg putovanja podzemnom železnicom stigli smo najzad do njenog malog stana. Celu smo noć proveli zajedno i ja sam plivao od sreće i zadovoljstva sve do sutradan, kada mi je bez ikakve afektacije i sasvim prirodno saopštila da me više ne može zadržati u stanu, jer stan pripada njenom mužu! To me je prilično razočaralo i osvestilo. Rastali smo se ipak prijateljski.
Već je bilo krajnje vreme da se javim našoj ambasadi. Nisam smeo da koristim podzemnu železnicu da ne bih zalutao. Uzeo sam taksi.
U ambasadu sam stigao suviše rano pre devet sati. U jednom obližnjem bistrou popio sam neku neukusnu, nazovi, kafu.
U ambasadi sam se javio čoveku kome me je Mićo poslao. Bio je Crnogorac. Poznavao je moga oca još iz rata. Zvao se Božidar-Boža. Odmah mi je dao adresu gde ću naći stan i drugu adresu za zaposlenje kao električar. Posle razgovora sa Božom otišao sam na stanicu Gare de Lyon da uzmem svoje stvari iz garderobe i odvezao se na adresu koju sam dobio od Bože. To je u stvari bio studentski dom, Cite universitaire. Odseo sam u italijanskom paviljonu. Soba je bila vrlo jeftina. Svega sedam franaka dnevno. Ni hrana nije bila skupa.
Prve nedelje uopšte nisam napuštao studentski grad i učio koliko god sam mogao francuski. Jedino sam otišao do policije i tamo produžio boravak za četiri meseca. Od policije sam dobio jedan papir na kome je bila prilepljena i moja fotografija. Za to sam platio 20 franaka. U to vreme je bilo vrlo lako dobiti boravak u Parizu.

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ISPOVEST JEDNOG RAZOČARANOG UDBAŠA (7)

sreda, 21. april 2004.

 

http://www.danas.co.yu/20040421/feljton1.html

 

U Luvru mi je bilo prilično dosadno

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ZORAN JOVANOVIĆ
Sledeće nedelje (prvog boravka nna zadatku u Parizu, prim. ur.)sačekao sam da prvo prođe moj malerozni dan utorak i tek onda otišao na adresu firme gde je trebalo da se zaposlim. Tamo sam se po Božinoj preporuci javio jednom Novosađaninu, gde sam odmah dobio zaposlenje.
Još u Beogradu mi je Mićo rekao da se svakih četrnaest dana javljam Boži, pa kad se sredim i snađem u Parizu od Bože ću dobiti naređenja za izvršenje zadatka radi čega sam i upućen u Pariz.
Vreme je prolazilo a od Miće nisam dobio nikakvih vesti. Uskoro sam prešao na stanovanje kod Novosađanina. Bilo nas je šestorica u jednoj prostranoj sobi. Spavali smo u duplim krevetima.
Posle nekoliko dana najuren sam sa posla, jer je mojom greškom, odnosno neznanjem, eksplodirao u plamenu jedan agregat.
Odmah sam otišao u ambasadu kod Bože da mu saopštim da sam najuren sa posla. On od toga nije pravio pitanje; samo je kazao da će mi naći drugi posao, dotle da se opet vratim u italijanski paviljon Cite-a.
Te nedelje bez posla obilazio sam Pariz i muzeje. Posetio sam jednog dana i Luvr, u kome mi je bilo, može se reći, prilično dosadno. Čudio sam se i nikako nisam mogao da shvatim zašto se posetioci dive i krevelje pred slikom Mona Lize! Nije mi išlo u glavu kakvu čar ima ta slika! Sve mi je to izgledalo veštački, smešno i vrlo glupo.
Jednog dana, kada sam se oko 7 sati po podne rastao od Bože, krenuo sam peške ka svom stanu. Počeo je da se navlači mrak a na ulicama još nisu bile upaljene svetiljke. Odjednom iskrsnuše preda me dva krupna čoveka! Obojica su bili stari oko trideset godina. Jedan me je podsećao na gestapovce iz filmova. Prišli su mi sasvim blizu i obratili mi se vrlo ljubazno na francuskom:
- Dobro veče, gospodine, oslovi me jedan od njih sa upadljivim crnim brkovima.
- Dobro veče, odgovorih mahinalno na francuskom.
- Molim, pokažite nam Vaše papire, reče onaj drugi sa naočarima male dioptrije. Verovatno mu i nisu bile potrebne. Nosio ih je više radi askiranja.
- Mi smo iz policije, pokazao mi je neku metalnu značku. Nisam mogao da pročitam šta piše na znački jer je mrak postajao sve gušći a i sve me je to prilično iznenadilo i zbunilo.
- A, Vi ste Jugosloven, reče ovaj sa naočarima.
- Da, rekoh.
- Da li imate nešto protiv da pođete sa nama? Treba da o nečemu razgovaramo, reče i prijateljski me uhvati ispod ruke!
Nešto sam progunđao u znak pristanka. Šta sam drugo mogao da učinim.
Ušli smo sva trojica u njihov automobil, a ja seo kao mlada nevesta između dva policajca. Šoferu uopšte nisam video lice. Svi smo ćutali a meni se svašta vrzlo u glavi. Čudio sam se zašto sam potreban policiji. Znao sam da u ovoj zemlji nisam još ništa počinio. Pomišljao sam da je sve ovo možda neka zabuna. Možda su već saznali da sam špijun. Ali tu sam mogućnost odmah odbacio kao apsolutno nemoguću.
Vozili smo se tako ćuteći prilično dugo. Niko nije progovorio ni jedne jedine reči. Najzad se automobil zaustavi pred jednom kapijom. Nisam nigde mogao pročitati da piše "Policija"! Kapiju je otvorio jedan čovek u civilnom odelu. To me je još više čudilo. Kada smo ušli u prostrano dvorište, primetio sam ispred sebe jednu poveću zgradu. Izišli smo iz automobila i pošao sam sa Brkom. Ušli smo u suteren zgrade koji je više ličio na podrum, jer ta prostorija uopšte nije imala prozore. Bila je to jedna obična sobetina. Nigde ni traga od policijskog biroa. Uočio sam to odmah i počeo da se plašim. Brkonja je izgleda to primetio i počeo je da me teši da ne treba da se plašim. Nastojali su sada na sve moguće načine da razgovaraju sa mnom. Međutim, od straha i uzbuđenja zaboravio sam i ono malo francuskog jezika što sam naučio. Nisam bio u stanju da na francuskom potražim čašu vode iako sam odjednom osetio veliku žeđ.
Objasnili su mi da će pozvati prevodioca.

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ISPOVEST JEDNOG RAZOČARANOG UDBAŠA (8)

četvrtak, 22. april 2004.

 

http://www.danas.co.yu/20040422/feljton1.html

 

Zašto sam zanimljiv za francuske obaveštajce

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Zoran Jovanović
Posle skoro celog sata čekanja (u prostoriji navodne francuske obaveštajne službe, prim. ur.) stigao je najzad i prevodilac. Bio je vrlo ljubazan. Začudo, nije imao naočare. Govorio je zagrebačkim naglaskom.
- Ja se zovem Branko. Zemljaci smo.
- Drago mi je, rekao sam ironično. - Verovatno ste emigrant?
- Nažalost, nisam - odgovorio je smeškajući se.
- Ne shvatam šta ste hteli reći tim "nažalost"!
- Ništa naročito, ta mi je reč verovatno uzrečica.
- Da li Vi znate gde ste? Upitao me je sada bez onog smeška na licu.
- To bih i ja želeo da znam.
- Vi se nalazite u rukama francuske tajne službe. Verovatno da Vas to ne iznenađuje.
- Zašto sam ja toliko zanimljiv da se ta služba interesuje za mene! - Sada sam tek osetio veliki strah. Nisam mogao da shvatim šta se sve ovo događa sa mnom!
Brka je upitao prevodioca da li želim da nešto popijem.
- Ne želim ništa rekoh, i ne čekajući da Branko prevede pitanje.
- O, pa Vi razumete dobro francuski, nasmeši se lažno Brka.
- Vrlo malo - rekoh drsko. - Pitajte ih zašto su me uhapsili.
- Ko kaže da ste uhapšeni. Preveo mi je Branko odgovor ovog brkatog podvaladžije.
- Ova gospoda samo žele da vam postave nekoliko pitanja. Njima je poznato zašto ste došli u Pariz, ali oni vide da ste Vi isuviše mlad čovek i da bi od vas bilo vrlo pametno da nađete zajednički jezik sa nama.
- Baš ništa ne razumem šta želite time reći!
- Gospodin želi znati zašto ste danas sa konzulom Božom bili u Luvru, preveo je Branko reč po reč sa nekim sadističkim naglaskom koji me je dovodio do besa.
- Recite gospodinu da ide u majčinu! Kakav je to način. Ja ne poznajem nikakvog konzula Božu i nikada nisam bio u Luvru. Izgovorih brzo i kročih jedan korak prema Brki sa stisnutom pesnicom da ga razvučem po njegovom krivom nosu, ali istog trenutka osetih strašan bol u glavi i sve se oko mene zamagli. Kada sam se probudio, bio sam vezan za jednu stolicu a glava me je nesnosno bolela. Osećao sam veliku čvorugu na potiljku ali je nisam mogao dotaći. Primetio sam da u sobi više nema Brke. Jedino sam video prevodioca i onog Naočarca.
- Gospodin smatra da ste previše temperamentni - prevodio mi je Branko, uz smešak, reči Naočarčeve.
- Pitajte gospodina da li ima lepu ženu - rekoh sav besan, jedva kontrolišući sebe.
- Gospodin je nažalost neoženjen.
- Da li je i ovog puta ta reč "nažalost" uzrečica?
- Nažalost nije, reče Branko i poče da se smeje kao lud!
Iako sam osećao strašne bolove u glavi, nisam mogao da se uzdržim i da se ne osmehnem.
- Gospodin se izvinjava zbog položaja u kome se nalazite i zna da vam to pričinjava velike neugodnosti, ali ako budete ljubazni, ta se neugodnost može odmah otkloniti.
- Šta vi zapravo želite od mene?
- Ne razumem Vašu tvrdoglavost. Na Vašem mestu ja bih jednostavno sve priznao. Vi ste isuviše mladi. Meni je Vas žao, a ovi bi ljudi tako rado hteli da Vam pomognu.
- Recite Vi gospodinu da ja nemam šta da kažem i da ništa ne razumem. Čak mi je sve ovo čudnovato i smešno - rekoh, iako sam znao da je sve to uzalud.
- Gospodin pita kada ste poslednji put bili sa Mićom?
Ovo me je pogodilo kao munja. Preseče mi se dah. Sada sam shvatio da se ovi nisu nimalo prevarili. Ali kako su sve to doznali? Toliko me je sve to iznenadilo i zbunilo da nisam znao šta da odgovorim. Ipak sam nekako prikupio snagu i dosta mirno odgovorio:
- Kojim Mićom - upitah kao čudeći se!
- Mićom sa kojim Vas je upoznao u Beogradu kapetan Žarko.
- Gospodin mora da je lud kada mi postavlja tako glupa pitanja, i pita me za ljude koje nisam nikada video u životu niti čuo za njih.

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ISPOVEST JEDNOG RAZOČARANOG UDBAŠA (9)

petak, 23. april 2004.

 

http://www.danas.co.yu/20040423/feljton1.html#2

 

Shvatio sam da apsolutno sve znaju

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Zoran Jovanović
Sav sam treperio od napetosti ( prilikom ispitivanja u navodnoj obaveštajnoj službi Francuske, prim. ur.). Bio sam potpuno van sebe od besa, jer uopšte nisam bio pripravan za ovakvu situaciju. Shvatio sam da apsolutno sve znaju. Ali kako i od koga su sve to doznali? Zato reših da ćutim, pa neka mi uzmu ovako bezvredni život.
- Gospodin želi da mu odgovorite na pitanje koje Vam je postavio. Sada mi se ovaj Naočarac uneo u lice i čekao moj odgovor.
- Ja ništa ne razumem i molim Vas da me više ne maltretirate da me ostavite na miru.
Uzalud sam preklinjao. Osećao sam strah i neopisivu mržnju prema ovim ljudima. Samo kad bih mogao da ih se oslobodim, pobio bih ih kao pse. Očajavao sam nemoćan što sam na samom početku moje špijunske karijere pao tako glupo neprijatelju u ruke.
Pokušavao sam da se tešim, savest mi je bila čista. Nema nikakve krivice do mene. Mora da je neko od ljudi, koji su me poslali u Francusku, izdajnik. Kada bih nekako mogao da se oslobodim, vratio bih se u svoju otadžbinu, obavestio o svemu nadležne i sprečio da taj izdajnik nastavi svoj prljavi posao. Verovao sa da će me ovde likvidirati, pošto neću da govorim, ali sam ipak odlučio da ćutim.
Počeli su da me šamaraju i udaraju pesnicama. Tukao me je i prevodilac. Jaukao sam od bolova. Kleo sam se da ništa ne znam i da su najverovatnije pogrešili i zamenili me sa nekom drugom osobom. Ništa nije pomoglo. Osećao sam se potpuno nemoćan i izgubljen.
Kada su se već zamorili udarajući me, obojica su izišla napolje i ugasili osvetljenje. Nastao je mrak kao u paklu. Ostao sam tako vezan za stolicu i u mraku, činilo mi se, celu večnost. Satima sam razmišljao o svemu i svačemu, i misli su mi postajale sve konfuznije. Mokrilo mi se. Nisam mogao više da izdržim. Nisam znao da mokraća može tako odvratno da smrdi.
Odjednom blesnula je svetlost sijalice u sobi. To je izazvalo neku vrstu šoka u mojoj svesti. Počeo sam iznenada da drhtim. Glava mi je bila naduvena kao globuska lopta. Poželeo sam da umrem, ali bilo je nemoguće da sam sebi skratim muke i zadovoljstvo mojim mučiteljima koji se još nisu pojavljivali, iako je svetlost upaljena. Čuo sam neke glasove pozadi vrata. Poznao sam glas onog Naočarca. Mumlao je nešto na francuskom, ali nisam mogao da razumem ništa. Predosećao sam da mi se dobro ne piše.
Najednom, vrata su se otvorila i u sobu su ušla sva trojica mučitelja. Brka je bio u belom mantilu. Ličio je na Drakulu. Prišao je i snažno me ošamario. Prevodilac mi je davao znake da ćutim jer sam počeo da cvilim kao pseto. Krv, koja mi se usirila u nosu, poče opet da curi. Molio sam Boga da sve isteče i tako jednom skratim ove muke.
Prevodilac Branko je nešto tiho razgovarao sa Naočarcem koji mu je dao jednu fotografiju na kojoj je bio Mićo!
- Gospodin pita da li i sada ostajete glupo uporni da ne poznajete ovog čoveka?
- Ne, nikada ranije nisam video tu fotografiju.
Snimljeni smo u nekom restoranu, odnosno bašti restorana. Ali gde i kada to zaista nisam znao.
Nisam znao šta da odgovorim. Shvatio sam da je sve uzaludno, ali sam čvrsto odlučio da ni reč ne izustim, da ništa ne priznam.

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ISPOVEST JEDNOG RAZOČARANOG UDBAŠA (10)

subota-nedelja, 24-25. april 2004

 

http://www.danas.co.yu/20040424/feljton1.html

 

Prevodilac koji ubada nožem

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ZORAN JOVANOVIĆ
Ja ne znam ovog gospodina. Možda smo nekada sedeli za istim stolom, ali ja se toga ne sećam. U kafani se često dešava da i nepoznate osobe sede za istim stolom. Znao sam da mi ovakav odgovor neće mnogo pomoći, ali sam rešio da ostanem uporan. Nisam se hteo pokoriti ovim tiranima koji misle da sve mogu (odgovor glavnog junaka kad su mu pokazali fotografiju na kojoj se vidi zajedno sa Mićom, prim. ur.)
- Znači tako - reče Branko. Vi ne samo da ste glupi, već ste i tvrdoglavi kao mazga, ali mi imamo načina da Vam otvorimo usta. Bolje je za Vas da nam sve priznate dobrovoljno, jer ćete i onako morati sve da nam priznate.
Sada je Branko sam postao islednik. Više nije bio prevodilac.
- Majku ti ustašku! Šta misliš da sam ja, nitkove jedan ... - Tu mi se reč presekla, jer sam dobio nekoliko snažnih udaraca u glavu i u stomak. Osetio sam tako jake bolove da sam počeo da vrištim i urličem.
- Ovaj je lud, čuo sam kako Brka komentariše.
Branko je izvadio iz džepa mali nož na izbacivanje i počeo da njime maše oko moga grla.
- Kopile jedno komunističko, odveži jednom taj tvoj jezik ili ću ti prerezati grkljan.
Ubo me je nožem u levu nogu. Osetio sam mali bol i krv kako poče da curi.
- Mizerijo, derao se Brka. Izvadio je pištolj i naslonio mi ga na slepoočnicu.
- Govori ili ću ti prosvirati tu tvoju glupu glavu.
Pljunuo sam mu u lice. Zgrušena krv celog ga je obojila. Ustuknuo je korak unazad i povukao oroz. Odjeknuo je snažan pucanj. Instinktivno sam povukao glavu. Čuo sam još nekoliko pucnjeva. Grčio sam se na prevrnutoj stolici. Bio sam svestan da je pištolj bio uperen na mene, ali nikakav bol nisam osetio. Pomislio sam da sam možda već mrtav i da sada samo moj duh razmišlja. Iz ovog me je trgao jak bol u levoj nozi, koju mi je Branko raskrvavio.
Čuo sam kako su se vrata otvorila. Čuo sam glasan smeh i razabirao poznate glasove. Svi su govorili srpskohrvatski. Prepoznao sam jedan glas. Glas moga učitelja Miće. Glavom mi je prostrujala strašna misao: Da li je moguće da je Mićo izdajnik?
- Čestitam, Zorane. Ti si sada grom momak.
Nožem su mi presekli veze na rukama. Svi su sada bili veseli i nasmejani. Zadugo nisam mogao doći k sebi. U sobi je sada ostao samo Mićo. Tešio me je.
- Sada je sve u redu. Zadatak si obavio izvrsno. Sad treba da se vratiš u Jugoslaviju i tamo ćemo se o svemu dogovoriti. Ovo što si ovde pretrpeo, moraš da zaboraviš. Budi srećan što u tebe ubuduće neće niko sumnjati. Danas si položio najteži ispit.
Sve oko mene izgledalo je čudno nestvarno. Bolovi su brzo popustili. Bio sam presrećan što sam živ. Tek sada sam shvatio da je ovo bio ispit moje lojalnosti i čvrstine. Sada sam dobio odgovor zašto sam poslan u Pariz. Bio sam neizmerno ponosan na samoga sebe i smelo gledao u svoju budućnost - budućost slavnog špijuna.
Posle "položenog" ispita u Parizu, odmah sam se vratio u Beograd. Mića mi je priredio ručak u svom stanu. Dugo smo razgovarali o svemu što se odigralo u Parizu i razišli se zadovoljni što se sve to tako lepo završilo.
Nekoliko dana, posle zajedničkog ručka, Mića je otpočeo svakodnevno da me obučava u raznim veštinama. Pričao mi je i o raznim aktivnim grupama koje rade protiv Jugoslavije i njenih naroda. Tada sam prvi put doznao da i u samoj Komunisttičkoj partiji postoji nekoliko grupa neprijateljski raspoloženih prema "našoj zemlji". Objasnio mi je ko su četnici a ko su ustaše. Najzad mi je saopštio da ću ja raditi isključivo protiv bivših vojnih lica, koja su 1948. godine za vreme Informbiroa odbegli u inostranstvo i sada grupišu svoje snage kako bi izvršili kontrarevoluciju u Jugoslaviji. Takođe sam od njega čuo da i Kinezi pomažu tim izbeglicama.
Saopštio mi je da će moj prvi zadatak biti odlazak u Rumuniju, ali je naglasio da još ne zna kada će to biti.
Već je bio mesec decembar 1967. godine i Beograd se uveliko spremao za doček Nove godine. Majka je očajavala što ništa ne radim i nisam kod kuće svakog dana. Preklinjala me je da nađem nekakav posao. Nisam znao šta da joj kažem. Bilo mi je nemoguće da objasnim svoj stvarni položaj. Otac je znao šta radim ali nije hteo ni mami da poveri. Za svo to vreme dobijao sam od Miće pristojni džeparac.
Trenirao sam svakog dana karate i to po šest sati dnevno. Više sam puta s Mićom odlazio na stadion JNA, gde sam u klubu Partizan bio višegodišnji član. Mića mi je svakog dana donosio jedan album ispunjen fotografijama većinom mlađih osoba, podvlačeći da su sve to šverceri-pripadnici beogradskog podzemlja.
- Pa zašto ih ne pohapsite - pitao sam. Nije mi bilo jasno zašto se takvi ljudi nalaze na slobodi.
- Nije naše da hapsimo kriminalce. Mi smo specijalna služba, a ovi ljudi nam mnogo puta i pomognu u našim poslovima.
- Vidiš ovog mladića? - Pokazao je, na fotografiji jednog mlađeg čoveka.
- On se zove Teša. Studira pravo, ali se pomalo bavi i prljavim poslovima. Nastoj da se s njime sprijateljiš. Samo to čini polako i neupadljivo. Imaš dosta vremena za to. Ovaj drugi se zove Paja. Nešto je stariji od Teše. On je inženjer. Radi zvanično u jednom beogradskom trgovačkom preduzeću na malo i veliko, nedaleko od Vukovog spomenika. Njega ćeš kasnije da upoznaš. Ali ga nipošto ne smeš upoznati samoinicijativno. Druži se sa Tešom dok te Paja sam ne uoči. Na njega moraš ostaviti utisak naivnog i vrlo poverljivog mladića. I Paja se takođe bavi švercom. Često putuje u Italiju i Rumuniju. Ako ti uspe da se i sa njime sprijateljiš i stekneš njegovo poverenje, onda znaj da je sve u redu. Samo budi oprezan. On je prilično inteligentna i uopšte zanimljiva osoba; to imaj uvek na umu. Večeras ću te odvesti u nekoliko restorana gde se oni najčešće sastaju. Tamo ubuduće moraš odlaziti češće i nastojati kako sam ti već objasnio, da te oni uoče i vremenom sprijatelje s tobom.
- Da li si shvatio šta se od tebe traži?
- Jesam - odgovorio sam mahinalno, iako mi nije cela ta igra bila sasvim jasna. Imao sam neograničeno poverenje u Miću i verovao sam da kada on nešto preduzme to mora i da uspe. Bio sam ljubopitljiv i jedva sam dočekao da se sretnem sa tim tipovima. Uveče smo otišli u moderni restoran "Bezistan". Tamo sam uočio nekoliko osoba iz Mićinog albuma. Mića je bio više nego zadovoljan kada sam pogađao lica u restoranu, onima iz njegovog albuma. Očigedno raspoložen svojim i mojim uspehom, rekao je: Od tebe će, Zorane, zbilja postati sjajan obaveštajac.
Sa Tešom sam se upoznao odmah posle Nove godine, ali on je uskoro otišao kod svojih u Sarajevo. Čim se vratio u Beograd, otišao sam posle treninga u restoran "Bezistan". Čim me je Teša spazio, obratio mi se sa "zdravo karatista", i upitao me veselo:
- Šta ćeš da piješ?
- Mleko, rekoh.
- Mleko pij’ kod kuće a ovo je kafana.
Bio je malko pripit i počeo je da me prijateljski tapše po ramenu. U tom trenutku je razdragano uzviknuo prema čoveku koji je tek ušao u restoran: "Dođi, Pajo, da nokautiraš ovog karatistu!"
Paja je polako prišao stolu i učtivo se sa svima pozdravio, a Tešu je i poljubio. Sedeli smo zajedno ceo jedan sat. Te sam noći upoznao i jednog mladića koji je bio nastavnik gimnastike. Radio je u Švedskoj i nadimak mu je bio Ringo. Paja se interesovao za karate i kazao je da i on zna nešto malo o toj veštini, ali da se ipak ne plaši nijednog karatiste u Jugoslaviji.
- Mogu svakog karatistu prebiti kao mačku, iako uopšte ne znam karate - reče Paja poluozbiljnim glasom.
- Nećeš valjda prebiti i mene. Mi smo već prijatelji.
DOK SU SE SVI SMEJALI, PAJA NASTAVI:
- Naravno da neću tebe, ali ću Jorgu prebiti nasigurno.
- Onda ću te upoznati s Jorgom, pa oprobaj sreću - nastavio sam, znajući da se Paja šali. Paja je bio fizički isuviše slab da se uhvati u koštac i sa jednim običnim mladićem, a kamo li da isprebija prvaka Jugoslavije karatistu Jorgu.
Posle ove šale svi smo nekako postali mnogo intimniji i bliži. Paja mi se odmah dopao kao čovek. Bio je veseljak i veliki kavaljar. Svi su se otimali za njegovo prijateljstvo.
To je moj prvi susret s Pajom. Docnije smo se često viđali i vremenom postali odlični prijatelji. Uvek sam se držao Mićinih saveta. Paja je ubrzo stekao poverenje u mene. Video je da malo govorim, da sam čvrst i da se ne petljam gde mi nije mesto.
Uskoro sam sa Tešom počeo da preprodajem satove i prstenje. To je bila roba koju je Paja davao Teši. Nije dugo prošlo i već sam postao majstor u švercu. Mnogi su počeli da mi nude da sa njima radim. Po Mićinom savetu odbijao sam svaku saradnju izuzev sa Tešom i Pajom.
Jednog dana, početkom marta, Paja mi reče da bi želeo sa mnom nasamo da govori. Odveo me je u jedan mali restoran gde je redovno večeravao. Tek što smo seli za sto, reče mi tihim i ozbiljnim glasom:

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ISPOVEST JEDNOG RAZOČARANOG UDBAŠA (11)

ponedeljak, 26. april 2004.

 

http://www.danas.co.yu/20040426/feljton1.html

 

Početak bliže saradnje s Pajom

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ZORAN JOVANOVIĆ
Jednog dana, početkom marta, Paja mi reče da bi želeo sa mnom nasamo da govori. Odveo me je u jedan mali restoran gde je redovno večeravao. Tek što smo seli za sto, reče mi tihim i ozbiljnim glasom:
- Ti mi se, Zorane, dopadaš kao čovek. Da li bi hteo da nešto krupnije radiš sa mnom? - Iako me je gledao sa neke visine, ipak sam osetio da ima poverenja u mene.
- Dobro, mogu li znati o kakvom je poslu reč? - pitao sam, trudeći se da ne izgledam mnogo zainteresovan.
- Da li imaš pasoš?
- Imam, izvadio sam ga prošle godine kada sam bio u Parizu.
- Pa ti si već bio u inostranstvu - upita Paja sa radošću.
- Da, bio sam na jednom karate seminaru oko tri meseca.
- Koga poznaješ u Parizu - upita iznenada.
- Skoro nikoga od Jugoslovena. Družio sam se većinom sa Francuzima.
- Poznaješ li koga emigranta?
- Nikoga, njih sam izbegavao. Oni govore o politici.
- U pravu si, Zorane. Ja već godinama putujem po inostranstvu, ali se ne bavim politikom. Moja je politika da zaradim koji dinar. Ostalo me ne zanima. Baš sada imam u planu jedan odličan posao. Ako te interesuje, mogao bi da se obogatiš za kratko vreme.
- Dobro, o čemu je reč? Jako sam bio nestrpljiv da što pre doznam nešto o tom poslu, naprezao sam se da to ne pokažem.
- Moram ti reći da je posao malko opasan. Ali sa malo pameti, svaka se opasnost može izbeći. Treba da preneseš stotinak "šuškavaca" u Rumuniju. Tamo se mogu prodati po 300 leja po komadu. Jes’ da lej nema neku naročitu vrednost u Jugoslaviji, ali je zato u Rumuniji veći od dinara. Za leje od prodatih šuškavaca kupićemo u Rumuniji, preko jednog mog prijatelja Jevrejina, trideset dobrih pravoslavnih ikona. Ikone su na Zapadu na velikoj ceni i tako se može zaraditi velika svota novca. Obećavam ti da ćeš od jedne uspešne ture zaraditi čisto tri miliona dinara.
Umalo nisam lakomo odmah pristao na ovu primamljivu ponudu, ali se setih Mićinih saveta da budem oprezan i da se ne izlećem, pa odgovorih udzržano:
- Sve je to lepo, samo se bojim da ne padnemo policiji u ruke.
- Rizik postoji. Ali, ako budemo oprezni, onda nema opasnosti.
Dobro, razmisliću pa ću ti drugom prilikom reći da li pristajem.
- O ovome ne smeš nikome ništa reći. Ni Teši. Nikome. Razmisli do sutra, pa mi javi i dođi u isto vreme ovde. Ako pristaneš, već u nedelju možemo poći po robu u Trst a onda za Rumuniju.
Rastao sam se s Pajom oko dva sata. Odmah sam pozvao telefonom Miću i rekao mu da ću doći kod njega. Ispričao sam sve što mi je Paja ponudio. Mića je bio više nego zadovoljan.
- Idi sutra u određeno vreme i sastani se sa Pajom. Pristani na sve, samo stalno jadikuj kako te je strah od policije. Da ćeš ipak prihvatiti posao, jer imaš poverenje u njega i da ni sa kim drugim ne bi smeo da se upuštaš u sličnu avanturu.
- Pa Paja je koliko ja vidim običan švercer!
- Ne. Paja uopšte nije običan švercer. Ubrzo ćeš se i sam uveriti. Za sada je važno da je zagrizao udicu a ostalo treba prepustiti vremenu. Moram ti reći, Zorane, da brzo napreduješ i nadam se da će te sreća i dalje služiti.

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ISPOVEST JEDNOG RAZOČARANOG UDBAŠA (12)

utorak, 27. april 2004.

http://www.danas.co.yu/20040427/feljton1.html

 

Sada je riba na udici

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ZORAN JOVANOVIĆ
Tog dana mi je Mića držao dugu pridiku. Rekao mi je da on o Paji zna mnogo, ali da još nije vreme da i meni sve to poveri, jer bi možda onda cela stvar propala.
- Zapamti još jednom, Zorane, Paja mora da stekne utisak da si ti isuviše naivan i da je on taj koji će te uvek voditi i učiti svemu. Zato, od danas pamet u glavu. Pamti svaku reč koju ti kaže. Sav se pretvori u oko i uvo. Nastoj da što više poverenja stekne u tebe.
Moja prva putovanja sa Pajom za Rumuniju prošla su vrlo glatko. Paja je tamo često odlazio po istom poslu, pa su prodaja "šuškavaca" i kupovina ikona obavljene bez naročitih teškoća. Iznenadila me je Pajina umešnost, ali i ja sam brzo ulazio u taj posao švercera. Sa dvadesetak ikona smo se vratili u Beograd. Mići sam odmah podneo najopširnij izveštaj. Nije mogao da sakrije svoje zadovoljstvo i veselim glasom me pohvalio što sam tako brzo i uspešno obavio svoj posao.
- Sada je riba na udici i treba paziti da se udica ne prekine, jer ova riba koju smo sad ulovili vrlo je retka riba. Zato, drugarčino, samo nastavi, polako ali sigurno - poče Mića da filozofira smeškajući se zadovoljno kao nikada ranije.
Iste nedelje odneli smo ikone u Trst. Dobio sam od Paje milion i po dinara. Bio sam oduševljen. Paja mi je rekao da je to samo početak i da će biti mnogo više para docnije, jer je pronašao u Bukureštu kanal za mnogo vrednije ikone.
- To su veoma stare ikone i za njih se može dobiti neuporedivo veća suma novca. Ali osoba koja nudi te ikone želi da se za njih isplati samo u zlatu. Uostalom, zlato se može lakše prenti nego "šuškavci" - reče Paja znalački.
Po povratku iz Trsta u Beograd odmah sam referisao Mići da smo nabavili zlatnike i da nameravamo da odemo u Bukurešt. Mića mi nije stavio nikakvu primedbu, samo me je još jednom posavetovao da budem oprezan.
Početkom aprila smo stigli u Bukurešt. Uzeli smo ceo apartman u hotelu Ambasador. Malko smo se odmorili od puta i sišli u trpezariju da ručamo. Paja je kao i uvek naručio čorbu i pastrmku a ja sam naručio tartar bif. Uvek sam voleo nepečeno meso. To mi je davalo veliku snagu. Mogao sam da pojedem po tri tartar bifa. Bio sam težak osamdeset pet kilograma, ali uopšte nisam bio debeo, jer sam uporno trenirao karate.
Paja je počeo da mi govori o nekom Slobodanu Glumcu.
- Danas u tri sata treba da se nađemo ispred hotela Lido sa jednim Jugoslovenom-emigrantom - reče Paja i nastavi da sladi svoju pastrmku.
- Ne razumem. Pre neki dan si mi rekao da nemaš kontakta sa emigrantima - rekoh lukavo.
- Da, rekao sam ti, ali i nisam kazao istinu. Sad se već prilično dobro poznajemo i mislim da nema potrebe da i dalje glumim ko sam i šta sam - reče Paja ozbiljnim glasom i prestade da jede pastrmku, koja je divno mirisala.
- Da li je to neki četnik ili ustaša - upitah opet lukavo, iako sam dobro znao da je Rumunija komunistička zemlja i da tu nema takvih emigranata. Namera mi je bila da Paja stekne utisak da se ne razumem u emigrantske organizcije. Nastavlja se
- Ne. To je jedan informbirovac.
- A tako - rekoh sa čuđenjem.
- Da, on je informbirovac. Zove se Slobodan Glumac. Ovo ti govorim kako bi bio oprezan kada se sa njime sastanemo. Dok ja sa njime budem govorio, ti samo ćuti i pazi da nas neko ne posmatra.
- Da li si i ti informbirovac? - upitah ga naglo. Poverovao sam da je zaista i on informbirovac, i postade mi sada jasno zašto je Mića uvek govorio da je Paja krupna riba i da ga treba polako obrađivati dok potpuno ne zagrize udicu.
- Ne, ja nisam informbirovac - reče Paja i pogleda me nekim čudnim pogledom i nastavi da govori lagano i svečanim glasom:
- Kada se vratimo u Jugoslaviju, objasniću ti mnoge stvari, ali sada nije vreme za to. Ti samo radi onako kako ti kažem i sve će biti u redu.
- Da li od njega treba da dobijemo te ikone?
- Ne, Zorane. Ovog puta smo došli u Bukurešt radi politike.
- Opet ništa ne razumem - rekoh iskreno. Nastavlja se

 

 

 

 

ISPOVEST JEDNOG RAZOČARANOG UDBAŠA (13)

sreda, 28. april 2004.

 

http://www.danas.co.yu/20040428/feljton1.html#2

 

Prvi put u Bukureštu radi politike

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ZORAN JOVANOVIĆ
- Ne. To je jedan informbirovac. (Odgovorio je Paja Zoranu kad mu je rekao da kontaktira sa emigracijom, a ovaj se interesovao da li je četnička ili ustaška, prim ur.)
- A tako - rekoh sa čuđenjem.
- Da, on je informbirovac. Zove se Slobodan Glumac. Ovo ti govorim kako bi bio oprezan kada se sa njime sastanemo. Dok ja sa njime budem govorio, ti samo ćuti i pazi da nas neko ne posmatra.
- Da li si i ti informbirovac? - upitah ga naglo. Poverovao sam da je zaista i on informbirovac, i postade mi sada jasno zašto je Mića uvek govorio da je Paja krupna riba i da ga treba polako obrađivati dok potpuno ne zagrize udicu.
- Ne, ja nisam informbirovac - reče Paja i pogleda me nekim čudnim pogledom i nastavi da govori lagano i svečanim glasom:
- Kada se vratimo u Jugoslaviju, objasniću ti mnoge stvari, ali sada nije vreme za to. Ti samo radi onako kako ti kažem i sve će biti u redu.
- Da li od njega treba da dobijemo te ikone?
- Ne, Zorane. Ovog puta smo došli u Bukurešt radi politike.
- Opet ništa ne razumem - rekoh iskreno.
Ima toga dosta što ti ne razumeš i za sada je bolje da ne razumeš. Ne treba mnogo da pitaš. Pusti mene da ja brinem o svemu.
- Ali, Pajo, ne nameravaš valjda da me uvučeš u neki posao i da radim protiv svoje zemlje? Ako ti je to namera, onda znaj da si izabrao pogrešnog čoveka. Nema tih para za koje bih ja izdao svoju zemlju kao ti informbirovci - rekoh uzbuđenim glasom.
- Rekao sam ti da se ne plašiš. Ne misliš da sam ja možda izdajnik svoga naroda? - reče Paja i pogleda me krvnički. Nikada ga nisam video tako ozbiljnog i ljutitog.
- Nisam ja baš to mislio - počeh da se pravdam. - Samo sam hteo da ti dam do znanja kakav sam i šta mislim o ljudima koji su izdali našu zemlju. - Po izrazu njegovog lica video sam da ga je ovo smirilo, pa je blago rekao:
- Ne treba da se plašiš. Ja znam, Zorane, dosta o tebi; inače te ne bih poveo sa sobom, pre nego što proverim kakav si i iz kakve si porodice.
- Gde si mogao to da proveriš - upitah nepoverljivo.
- To te se za sada ne tiče. Rekao sam ti već da ću ti sve objasniti kada stignemo u Jugoslaviju. A sad plati ovaj ručak, jer je skoro tri sata.
Stigli smo pred hotel Lido. Čekao nas je jedan četrdesetogodišnji čovek. Bio je strašno uplašen. Predao je Paji jedan mali paketić.
- Moram odmah da se udaljim. Može nas neko ovde videti - počeo je da se jada ovaj uplašeni čovek. - Paja ga je poveo malko u stranu i brzo su se rastali.
Paja mi dade znak da priđem i pošli smo u svoj hotel.
- Ko je ovaj čovek? - upitah.
Pa već sam ti rekao. To je Slobodan Glumac.
- Ali zašto je ovako uplašen?
- Mnogo pitaš - reče Paja blagonaklono.
Došli smo pešice do našeg hotela i produžili do jednog instituta u kome Paja reče da radi neki dr Slobodan Kovačević, sa kojim takođe treba da se sastanemo.
- Šta, i taj se zove Slobodan - upitah sa čuđenjem.
- Da. Kao što vidiš sve neki Slobodani danas - ali sad ućuti, jer je opasno da govorimo glasno našim jezikom; nikada se ne zna da li nas neko prati.
Otišli smo pred taj institut, ali nas tamo nije čekao dr Kovačević!
- Nema ga - reče Paja. - Moramo odmah natrag u hotel. Ne smemo se na ovom mestu dugo zadržavati. Nastavlja se

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ISPOVEST JEDNOG RAZOCARANOG UDBAŠA (14)

četvrtak, 29. april 2004.

 

 

http://www.danas.co.yu/20040429/feljton1.html

 

 

Covek sa Politikom u ruci

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Zoran Jovanovic
Vracajuci se u hotel (u Bukureštu, prim. ur.) primetio sam jednog coveka pred autobuskom stanicom sa Politikom u ruci.
- Pajo, ono je Jugosloven - prošaputah.
- Ko! - trže se Paja kao opecen.
- Otkud znaš da je Jugosloven?
- Pa zato što drži Politiku u ruci.
- O jes’, pricekaj malko a ja cu mu prici.
Paja mu je prišao. Covek sa Politikom pretvarao se kao da je iznenaden. Uocio sam odmah da je to samo gluma. Pomislio sam da je to taj dr Kovacevic, ali sam uskoro dobio savim drugaciji odovor!
Nepoznati covek sa Politikom imao je oko 40 godina. Sportski graden i izgledao je vrlo ozbiljan. Predstavio mi se kao Vidoje Vukoje. Neckao se da pode sa nama u hotel, ali je pristao da sednemo u baštu jednog malog restorana nedaleko od našeg hotela. Vidoje je pricao kako je pobegao iz Jugoslavije pre dvadeset godina. Da je proveo u Moskvi nekoliko godina i da je sada elektroinženjer. Da radi u jednoj elektricnoj centrali ovde u Bukureštu. Paja ga je pitao da li poznaje dr Kovacevica. Vidoje je potvrdio da ga vrlo dobro poznaje. Rastali smo se kada se vec potpuno smracilo. Dogovorili smo se da Vidoje dode sutra po nas oko 10 sati i odvede nas svojoj kuci.
U hotelu me je Paja opomenuo da sutra dobro otvorim i oci i uši, i da budem vrlo oprezan, jer da se ne zna šta se sve može desiti!
Posle vecere otišli smo u hotelsku dvoranu za igranje, gde smo se upoznali sa dve mlade Rumunke. Jedna od njih znala je vrlo dobro sprskohrvatski. Uskoro smo se povukli u svoje sobe, svako sa po jednom Rumunkom.
Sutradan za vreme dorucka stigao je Vidoje. Bio je vrlo lepo obucen, cak je vezao i kravatu. Otišli smo u njegov stan. Upoznao nas je sa svojom suprugom, upadljivo lepom Rumunkom, koja je radila kao medicinska sestra i sa Vidojem je imala jedno žensko dete.
Uskoro je došao i jedan major, takode emigrant. Zvao se Milan Zuban. Vidoje nas je predstavio kao svoje poznanike. Primetio sam da se Zuban neskriveno interesovao ko smo mi. Dugo smo razgovarali o svemu i svacemu, i najzad je Zuban govorio o Vladi Dapcevicu, Mao Ce Tungu, i o nekoj kontrarevoluciji koja treba da izbije u Jugoslaviji. Najviše se govorilo o toj kontrarevoluciji. Zuban je sa žarom pominjao ogroman broj oficira koji ce u datom trenutku izvršiti kontrarevoluciju u Jugoslaviji.
Tih meseci vladala je velika napetost u Jugoslaviji zbog dogadaja u Cehoslovackoj. Zuban mi je dao nekoliko znacaka Mao Ce Tunga i pitao me šta ja mislim o Maou.
- Dobar covek - izvalio sam kao iz topa, nepripremljen za ovakvo pitanje.
- Sledeci put kada se sastanemo, dacu ti nekoliko citata na našem jeziku da ih procištaš i razdeliš svojim drugovima kada se vratiš u Jugoslaviju - rece Zuban.
- Vrlo dobro. Baš bih voleo da procitam citate Mao Ce Tunga - rekoh i ponadah se da cu ih dobiti i docnije se povhaliti pred Micom i dokazati da sam stupio u vezu sa informbirovcima.
Informbirovci su posle Staljinove smrti prešli od sovjetske na kinesku liniju. Vlada Dapcevic, bivši pukovnik Jugoslovenske narodne armije, postao je glavni sekretar te nove Komunisticke partije. Nije se znalo gde se Vlada Dapcevic nalazi. Posle odlaska iz Pekinga, trag mu se potpuno izgubio. Mica mi je govorio da se veruje da je sada u Rumuniji i da je to vrlo važna licnost, i da sam ja zato tako revnosno obucavan, da bih mu jednog dana, kada se ukaže prilika, stao nogom pod grlo. Osecao sam veliko uzbudenje, jer sam posle poznanstva sa Zubanom verovao da cu uskoro sresti i Vladu Dapcevica, ali to se nije odmah dogodilo.

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http://www.danas.co.yu/img/b_box.gif Nastavlja se

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ISPOVEST JEDNOG RAZOČARANOG UDBAŠA (15)

petak-ponedeljak, 30. april-3. mart 2004

 

 

http://www.danas.co.yu/20040430/feljton1.html

 

 

Da li je Paja kriminalac ili obaveštajac

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ZORAN JOVANOVIĆ
Kada smo se rastali od Vidoja bilo je već 18 sati. Paja mi je saopštio da je večeras zakazao sastanak sa čovekom koji će doneti ruske ikone. Dao mi je zlatnike da ih odnesemo u Vidojev stan i da se odmah vratim u hotel. Nije smeo da zadrži zlatnike kod sebe, jer je ipak sumnjao u Jevrejina koji je obećao da donese ikone.
Od Vidoja sam se vratio tek oko ponoći. Paja je bio besan i pitao me gde sam se tako dugo zadržao. Odgovorio sam mu nekim mangupskim glasom da Vidoje nije bio kod kuće i da sam mu za to vreme "prevrnuo" onu lepu ženu. Paja je bio zabezeknut. Počeo je da viče na mene i nastojao je da me ubedi da je to vrlo opasno što radim i da takvim ponašanjem mogu da upropastim sve naše planove i dosadašnje uspehe. I da ja ne znam ko su ti ljudi.
- Istina je da ja ne znam ko su ti ljudi i zato bi trebalo da već jednom otkriješ svoje karte i kažeš mi ko je ko u ovoj igri! - Sve sam to izgovorio u jednom predahu i pogledao ga vrlo ozbiljno.
- O tome ne možemo ovde razgovarati, Zorane. Mi smo u hotelu i može nas neko prisluškivati. Sad se lepo istuširaj i pravo u krevet, jer sutra moramo biti ispavani i odmorni - reče Paja sasvim pomirljivim i blagim glasom.
Sutradan nam je Jevrejin, koji je trebalo da donese ikone, umesto ikona doveo policiju! Pretresli su sve naše stvari i prostudirali pažljivo naše isprave, ali nisu mogli ništa da pronađu. Paja je jednostvno i hladno rekao da Jevrejina uopšte ne poznaje i da mu ništa nije poznato o nekim zlatnicima i ikonama. Policajci su morali da nas ostave na miru, ali smo znali da će nas ipak pratiti. Zato nismo odmah otišli kod Vidoja po dukate, već svratili u jednu obližnju kafanu a zatim se taksijem odvezli na jedno jezero, gde smo proveli nekoliko sati, uspešno izbegavajući radoznale poglede prilično neveštog policijskog agenta koji nas je uporno pratio. Tu smo se dogovorili da se rastanemo i da se opet sastanemo na železničkoj stanici u Temišvaru, a odatle zajedno vratimo u Beograd. Učinio sam kako mi je Paja naredio. Na temišvarskoj stanici nisam našao Paju, pa sam sam nastavio za Beograd. Brinulo me je šta se sa Pajom dogodilo.
Čim sam stigao u Beograd, odmah sam telefonom pozvao Miću, otišao kod njega i sve mu ispričao. Mića je bio vrlo ljut zbog takvog razvoja događaja i rekao je: "Ipak se nadam da taj konj nije pao policiji u ruke".
- Zaista ne razumem, čika Mićo. Paja je jedna obična varalica, jedan kriminalac, a ti strepiš da ne padne policiji u ruke.
- Pa nismo valjda, Zorane, takve proklete sreće da sada, kada je sve tako lepo počelo, ta bitanga zaglavi.
Rastao sam se od Miće i pošao pravo kući, željan da se dočepam kreveta, toliko sam bio premoren i neispavan. Čim sam stigao kući, otac mi reče da me je jedan mladi čovek tražio telefonom i da sutra u deset neizostavno dođem u restoran Domovinu. Odmah sam znao da je to Paja i bi mi drago što ga nisu uhapsili.
Sutradan sam otišao na ugovoreno mesto u restoran Domovinu. Čim sam ušao, ugledao sam Paju kako sedi za stolom i čita jutarnje izdanje Politike ekspres. Prišao sam mu sasvim blizu.
- Desila se takva nesreća, Zorane, reče Paja umesto odgovora.
Kelner je doneo kafu, ispijajući je polako, gledao sam krišom u Paju. Izgledao je vrlo zabrinut. Sumnjao sam da je ta zabrinutost samo gluma. Otkako sam počeo da se bavim špijunskim radom, više nikome nisam verovao. Mislio sam da svi lažu. Radeći sa njima potpuno sam izmenio mišljenje o ljudima. Sumnjao sam u svakoga i svakoga sam pomalo mrzeo. Jedino sam verovao Mići. Mića je za mene bio jedan mit, tačnije moj bog ili đavo, kome sam svoju dušu prodao.
- Šef mi je danas uhapšen. Evo pročitaj - reče Paja, pružajući mi novine i pokazujući na članak u kome je opisano kako je na autoputu Beograd-Novi Sad, u blizini Fruške gore, službenik SUP Pera Perić pregazio jednog pešaka i pobegao svojim kolima sa mesta nesreće. Jedan slučajni prolaznik je zapamtio broj automobila i Pera Perić je bio lišen slobode.
- Kakvo đubre! Policajac smrtno pregazio čoveka i pobegao - rekoh ljutitim glasom.
- Kakvo đubre, Zorane. To je duša od čoveka. Ali eto, desilo se i to nas sada može skupo koštati - procedi Paja ozbiljnim i tužnim glasom.
- Ne znam kakve veze mi imamo sa ovim slučajem!
- Kako da nemamo veze. Pa jesam li ti već rekao da je Perić moj šef.
- Čij šef?
- Pajo, ja te uopšte ne razumem. Izrazi se molim te malko jasnije i objasni mi o čemu je reč.
- Ja sam ti već rekao u Rumuniji da ću ti objasniti ko sam čim se vratimo u Beograd. Ja nisam kriminalac kakvog me ti zamišljaš i kakvim me smatra ceo onaj ološ, gde si me ti upoznao. Ja sam policajac - reče Paja i gledao me je svojim plavim očima koje su nekako čudno svetlele.
- Ti, policajac! Šta je to, Pajo, danas s tobom, jesi li potpuno zdrav?
- Zdrav sam - reče Paja vrlo ozbiljnim glasom. - Ja sam policajac ali ne onakav kakve si ti imao priliku da vidiš. Ja sam policajac Državne bezbednosti - Udbe.
Pomislih kako će se Mića slatko smejati kada mu saopštim šta ovaj njegov švercer fantazira.
- Da, ja sam službenik Udbe! Ovo ti ne bih nikada poverio da se nisam uverio da ti imaš velike izglede da nam pomogneš. Primetio sam da Milan Zuban ima neograničeno poverenje u tebe, jer mu se činiš naivnim. Pre nego što sam ti ponudio da zajedno idemo u Rumuniju, raspitao sam se o tebi. Doznao sam sve o tebi i tvojoj porodici, pa sam tek onda s dozvolom moga šefa počeo da radim s tobom. Ja se švercom bavim samo da bi emigranti u Rumuniji stekli utisak da sam običan crnoberzijanac, i da ne bi posumnjali u mene. Moj šef, kome podnosim izveštaje, je iz Zrenjanina, zove se Grković Obrad. Sa njime ću te upoznati još ove nedelje. A onaj drugi, koji je danas uhapšen, je moj šef iz Pokrajinskog. Još se ne zna ko će nam biti novi šef.
- Danas ću te odvesti u moju kancelariju.
- U SUP - upitah radoznalo.
- Ne, ja radim u jednom preduzeću za trgovinu zaštitom na veliko, ali to je samo kamuflaža. To je u stvari kancelarija tajne službe. Pođimo da vidiš gde radim.
Taj Pajin biro tajne službe nalazio se svega na stotinak metara od kafane Domovina. Zgrada se ni po čemu nije razlikovala od ostalih okolnih zgrada. U prizemlju su stanovali neki penzioneri. Na prvom spratu jedva primetih staklenu tablicu sa natpisom "Žitopromet" Sarajevo - Poslovnica Beograd. Ušli smo u poveću prostoriju "Žitoprometa", gde nas je dočekala jedna privlačna crnka. Paja me je predstavio kao svog rođaka. Na jednim vratima je bila tablica na kojoj je pisalo: Paja Zelenković, inženjer. Sve me je ovo zbunilo. Nisam mogao da se snađem. Navirale su mi razne misli i nisam bio u stanju da dam samome sebi odgovor da li je ovo sve istina ili me Paja laže. Da li je ovo stvarno biro tajne službe ili možda biro neke strane obaveštajne službe. Počeo sam da se plašim. Nisam znao kako će se sve ovo svršiti. Paja me je upoznao sa jednim čovekom za koga reče da mu je šef. Sinu mi kroz glavu: koliko li ovaj Paja ima šefova?
- Mišo - reče ovaj čovek omanjeg rasta i oko četrdeset godina star, i posle kraće pauze dodade Vukoje, svoje prezime.
Paja mi namignu da Mišo Vukoje ne primeti. Shvatio sam Pajinu nameru i nisam ničim pokazao da me ovo ime Vukoje interesuje. Kada smo za trenutak ostali sami, Paja me pohvali što sam shvatio da treba da ćutim i da ubuduće pazim da se slučajno ne bih odao da poznajem u Bukureštu Vidojevog brata, za koga njegova porodica ne zna gde je otkako je pobegao iz Jugoslavije. Takođe mi je skrenuo pažnju da, kada se opet u Rumuniji sastanemo sa Vidojem, ničim ne pokažem da poznajem njegovog brata u Beogradu.
U Pajinoj kancelariji smo se zadržali oko pola sata i zakazali opet sastanak sutradan u 10 pre podne. Čim sam se rastao sa Pajom, odmah sam se taksijem odvezao do Miće i ispričao mu sve šta mi je Paja kazao i gde sam sa njime sve bio. Moje iznenađenje nije bilo malo kada mi je Mića jednostavno kazao:
- To je istina, Zorane. Sve što ti je Zelenković Paja kazao - istina je i zato sada budi dvaput oprezniji. Ti si sada ubačen u jednu veliku igru. Ti nam sada možeš mnogo pomoći i ja sam srećan što je najzad sve krenulo kako treba. Ja sam svoj zadatak ispunio. Od danas se, Zorane, više nećemo viđati. Ja sada odlazim na drugi posao. Uskoro ćeš biti pozvan na razgovor sa drugovima u Zrenjaninu i Novom Sadu. Dao sam im o tebi najbolje karakteristike, kakve se samo mogu poželeti. Videćeš da su ovi drugovi, sa kojima ćeš od sada da radiš, vrlo dobri i pošteni ljudi. Verujem da se nećeš obrukati.
- Pa zašto mi, čika Mićo, nisi ranije rekao da je Paja naš. Kako ću ga sada pogledati u oči kada zna da sam ga špijunirao?
- Ne treba da se sekiraš. Zorane, Paja je jedan odličan momak. On je o tebi takođe sve najlepše rekao. Trebalo je danas da se sastanete sa drugom iz Pokrajinskog, ali, eto, desila se ta nesreća. Ove ćeš nedelje biti pozvan u Zrenjanin. Stvar je vrlo bitna i ne sme se odlagati.
- Čika Mićo, ne znam ni ko pije, ni ko plaća.
- E moj Zorane, tako je to kod nas špijuna, ali ubrzo ćeš se i sam navići na ovakav život. Posao špijuna je vrlo naporan, ali ljudi našega kova najbolje žive ovakvim životom. Ja ne znam šta bih učinio da sutra moram da prestanem da se bavim obaveštajnim radom. Verovatno bi onda život za mene bio bez ikakve svrhe.

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utorak, 4. mart 2004.

ISPOVEST JEDNOG RAZOČARANOG UDBAŠA (16)

 

http://www.danas.co.yu/20040504/feljton1.html#2

 

Obaveštajac - odvratan posao koji oduševljava

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Zoran JOVANOVIĆ
Mića mi je toga dana pričao mnogo iz svoga života i obaveštajnog rada. Nisam bio u stanju da se koncentrišem i da ga pažljivo slušam. Nešto me je stezalo u grudima. Osećao sam potrebu da se dobro isplačem i otklonim moru koja se uvlačila u mene. Najviše me je pogodilo što se više ne mogu da sastajem sa Mićom koga sam iskreno zavoleo. Izgubio sam nešto što mi je bilo najdraže otkako sam pošao ovim putem neizvesnosti. Mića mi je bio drag a ponekad i mrzak, ali sam uvek u njemu video prijatelja na koga se mogu osloniti. Od neke tuge nisam bio u stanju ni reč da izustim. Za trenutak sam se osećao izgubljenim i napuštenim.
Iako me je poziv obaveštajca oduševljavao, ipak sam na početku osetio da je to odvratan posao, ali sam već zaplivao u vode zabluda i povratka više nije bilo.
Nagli i neočekivani rastanak sa Mićom i gubitak njegove potpore su me za trenutak uplašili i pokolebali veru u samoga sebe, ali sam ubrzo opet osetio neku nabujalu snagu i divio se samome sebi što postajem sve samostalniji u radu i što će mi se u najskorijoj budućnosti dati prilika da ispunim svoj mladalački san - da postanem slavni špijun. Već sam u mašti opet zamišljao sebe kao najslavnijeg špijunskog heroja kome se svi dive, i koji neustrašivo rastavlja od života nekog od najopasnijih neprijatelja našeg naroda, koji iz inostranstva rovari protiv Jugoslavije...
Opijen svojim budućim uspesima i velikom slavom, otisnuo sam se neustrašivo i lakomisleno na klizavi i opasan put slavnog obaveštajca, ne sluteći da će me taj varljivi put tako brzo odvesti u potpun krah svih mojih mladalačkih zanosa - u jezivu i beskrajnu životnu tragediju.
Paja me je odveo u Zrenjanim da me upozna sa novim šefovima. Sastali smo se u zgradi SUP pored Begeja. Prisutni su bili Stanić, jedan koji mi se predstavio rekavši samo "Mikica" i treći Obrad Grković, koji mi je odmah saopštio da će ubuduće on biti moj šef i da ću samo od njega primati uputstva i samo njega izveštavati o radu.
Zahtevali su sva trojica od mene da im u pojedinostima opišem šta sam sve video u Bukureštu i koga sam sve tamo upoznao. Kazao sam im sve što sam znao. Najviše ih je zanimo Vukoje i njegov prijatelj Milan Zuban. Objašnjeno mi je da ću uskoro opet otputovati za Rumuniju zajedno sa Pajom Zelenkovićem i da nastojim da se što više približim i sprijateljim sa Vukojem i Milanom Zubanom, i da im na pogodan način dam do znanja da je moj otac bio Informbirovac i da je sada u penziji.
Rečeno mi je da ću za put u Rumuniju dobiti dovoljno novaca, ali da se ipak ne razmećem novcem, kako ne bih postao sumnjiv. Naročito da nastojim da se što više približim Zubanu, jer on ima više poverenja u mene nego u Paju.
Milan Zuban je bio Srbin iz Bosne. Predratni komunist i u partizanima je dogurao do majora. Bio je veliki idealista i potpuno odan Sovjetskom Savezu. Govorio mi je sa zanosom i uzbuđenim glasom:
- Ja sam, Zorane, ceo svoj život posvetio komunizmu. Ali ne ovakvom kakav je danas u našoj zemlji. Tito je velika hulja, podmukao, lukav i bolesno slavoljubiv čovek. Radi svoje slave postao je revizionist. On je ubio Arsu Jovanovića, onemogućio Žujovića, a mnoge najbolje komuniste posalo na zlogasni Goli otok. Mnogi su stradali od tog debelog kapitaliste koji se uvukao nama komunistima pod kožu i sada nam pije krv. Taj debeli Onazis iz Kumrovca živi danas luksuznije nego ikoj, kralj! A da bi on i njegove sluge i ulizice mogle tako luksuzno da žive, poslali su više od milion radnika da argatuju po kapitalističkim zemljama, a najviše baš po Nemačkoj.
Nije mi bilo prijatno da sve ovo slušam o našem slavnom Maršalu, ali sam ipak uspeo da se savladam kako ne bih postao sumnjiv Zubanu. Morao sam da glumim i ničim se nisam odao.
Zuban je sve više padao u vatru i nastavio da grdi Tita.

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ISPOVEST JEDNOG RAZOČARANOG UDBAŠA (17)

sreda, 5. mart 2004.

http://www.danas.co.yu/20040505/feljton1.html#2

 

Pamfleti koji veličaju komunizam u Kini

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Zoran JOVANOVIĆ
Zuban (emigrant u Rumuniji, prim. ur.) je sve više padao u vatru i nastavio da grdi Tita:
- On, lažni borac za radnička prava, navlači na sebe razne maršalske uniforme. Kiti se zlatnim prstenjem, medaljama i dijamantskim iglama! Kinđuri se kao nekada naduveni Hitlerov maršal Gering! Izneverio je sva načela za koja smo se borili i umirali u strašnom ratu sa nacističkom aždajom. I on se usuđuje da nas, ispravne komuniste i borce, naziva izdajnicima, a sam je najveći izdajnik komunističke ideologije i otvoreni štićenik kapitalista - agent Zapada... On će, Zorane, odgovarati jednog dana pred najvećim sudom - pred sudom naroda.
Kada sam se ponovo sastao sa Zubanom, dao mi je više letaka i pamfleta koji napadaju režim u našoj zemlji i koji veličaju komunizam kakav je u Kini, da ih razdelim drugovima po povratku u Jugoslaviju.
Vukoje je bio manje govorljiv i po prirodi više uzdržljiv od Zubana. Uspeo sam da se i sa njime sprijateljim, pa je počeo da me poziva kod sebe u kuću sve češće. Jednog dana, kada sam znao da će sa svojom suprugom biti van kuće, odlučio sam bez Pajinog znanja i otišao u Vukojevu kuću. Otvorio sam spoljna vrata kalauzom i razgledao sva odeljenja. Raspored kuće bio mi je već poznat. Bilo mi je sumnjivo što je na tavanskim vratima bio jači katanac! Otvorio sam bez muke kalauzom i taj katanac i pažljivo razgledao tavan. Ispred jednog povećeg sanduka ugledao sam list od neke knjige. Kada sam se nagnuo da ga podignem, primetio sam da je sanduk prilično lak. Instiktivno sam ga gurnuo i, na moje veliko iznenađenje, video sam na podu poklopac. Moje je iznenađenje bilo još veće kada sam podigao jedva primetni poklopac na podu i u udubljenju video tajnu radio-stanicu! Uzdrhtao sam od uzbuđenja! Brzo sam nekoliko puta snimio radio-stanicu i ceo tavan, i najpažljivije vratio sve na svoje mesto, i uspeo da se bez ikakvih teškoća neprimećen izvučem iz Vukojeve kuće.
Jedva sam čekao da se vratimo u Jugoslaviju i da se pohvalim svojim šefovima, odnosno Obradu Grkoviću, šta sam uspeo da otkrijem na Vukojevom tavanu.
Grković je bio oduševljen mojim uspehom. Hvalio me je i proricao veliku budućnost i slavu, i ja sam bio izuzetno srećan i ponosan na ovaj moj prvi samostalni podvig.
Posle referisanja Grkoviću, on me je upoznao sa Udbinim tajnim agentom u Švedskoj Vukašinom Milićevićem, zvanim Ringo. Ringo mi je tom prilikom pričao kako on živi tamo bogovski i da je u Švedskoj vrlo lepo. Očekivao sam da će me možda posle ovog uspeha Grković poslati na rad u Švedsku, ali to se nije odmah desilo.
Grković me je zadržao celu nedelju dana u Beogradu i dao mi mnogo tabaka i fotografija da prostudiram za to vreme, pa da krajem nedelje opet dođem kod njega u Zrenjanin.
Prvog maja 1969. godine, baš na moj rođendan, umesto da ga proslavim kod kuće, morao sam da krenem za Pariz sa zadatkom da na sve moguće načine pokušam da se približim Vladi Dapčeviću i po mogućstvu stupim u lični dodir sa njime. Otišao sam u Pariz, ali i pored nastojanja da dođem do Vlade Dapčevića, to mi nije pošlo za rukom. Izgleda da je u to vreme Dapčević napustio Pariz i ja sam se vratio za Beograd.
Po povratku iz Pariza, Obrad Grković mi je dao novi zadatak. Saopštio mi je da se pripremim za odlazak u Švedsku. Da u Švedsku odlazim prividno kao običan radnik i da nastojim da kod švedske policije ne izazovem ikakvu sumnju, a ukoliko bude teškoća sa mojim ostankom na radu u Švedskoj, da se oženim nekom Šveđankom i tako automatski postanem njihov državljanin. Nastavlja se

 

 

ISPOVEST JEDNOG RAZOČARANOG UDBAŠA (18)

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četvrtak, 6. maj 2004.

 

http://www.danas.co.yu/20040506/feljton1.html#2

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Cilj dolaska u Švedsku - likvidacija Vlade Dapčevića

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Zoran JOVANOVIĆ
Grković (novi šef Z. M. prim. ur.) mi je saopštio da će moj prvi zadatak u Švedskoj biti u početku likvidiranje srpskih i hrvatskih emigranata koji rade protiv naše zemlje, a krajnji cilj da prikupljam podatke o mestu boravka Vlade Dapčevića i da mu se oprezno i neupadljivo približim, i da ga docnije, kada dobijem konačno naređenje, likvidiram. Grković mi je rekao da ću u Švedskoj samostalno raditi, što mi je mnogo laskalo. Još više sam bio ponosan na samoga sebe što mi je poveren zadatak da tragam i verovatno najzad likvidiram tako važnog "neprijatelja naše zemlje", kao što je to Vlado Dapčević. Verovao sam ako u tome uspem da će me taj podvig proslaviti kao tajnog agenta. Goreo sam od nestrpljenja da što pre dođe do tog obračuna i da baš ja ubijem tog istaknutog narodnog neprijatelja.
U Švedsku sam upućen na tamošnjeg Udbinog agenta Vukašina Milićevića Ringa, kao njegovo pojačanje u borbi sa hrvatskim i srpskim agentima. Ni Ringo nije smeo da zna moj pravi cilj dolaska - likvidacija Vlade Dapčevića.
U Švedsku sam stigao oktobra 1969. godine. Od Grkovića sam dobio 5.000 dolara. Polovinu te sume sam po naređenju Obradovom predao Ringu, a polovinu zadržao za sebe.
Brzo sam se snašao u Švedskoj. Mnogo mi je pomoglo i moje znanje karate-sporta. Prvih nekoliko dana odseo sam kod Ringa koji je držao mali klub sa kockarnicom. Docnije sam se preselio kod Zdravka Pećanca. Ringo mi je našao zaposlenje u jednom karate-klubu. U tom sam klubu docnije upoznao Šveđanku koja je postala moja supruga i sa kojom sam dobio sina. Grković je docnije bio protiv ove ženidbe. Smatrao je da sam suviše brzo i bez dozvole oženio tu Šveđanku, a u stvari se plašio da se preko nje ne približim suviše. Šveđanima i ne padnem pod njihov uticaj.
U početku moga rada u Švedskoj sve je išlo glatko. Učio sam brzo švedski jezik i postajao sve popularniji u karate-klubovima, a nisam odavao svoje pravo lice. Jugoslovenska emigracija i jugoslovenski radnici u Švedskoj su smatrali i verovali da sam ja veliki "srpski nacionalist". Tome je verovatno doprinelo i to što sam isprebijao neke hrvatske nacionaliste koji su se isuviše bili osilili.
U Švedskoj sam otpočeo jednu novu i mnogo komplikovaniju špijunsku karijeru sa mnogo događaja, iznenađenja i uzbuđenja, ali se nije sve razvijalo povoljno po mene, kako sam očekivao. Suviše sam verovao u sebe i ponekad nisam bio u stanju da donesem najpravilnije odluke. Posle svoje ženidbe 1970. osećao sam se sigurnijim i bacio se svom snagom na špijunski rad. Zanosili su me početnički uspesi i osećao sam neodoljivi nagon da idem sve dalje i dalje, i sve smelije u nove avanture, koje sam često preduzimao bez ičijeg naređenja i potpuno na svoju ruku. Posle svakog uspeha preda mnom je stajao kao najveći mamac, da se dočepam Vlade Dapčevića i ispraznim svoj pištolj u njega. Taj mi je čin onda izgledao toliko jednostavan da ni za trenutak nisam posumnjao da neću moći da ga obavim.
Dva meseca posle ubistva jugoslovenskog ambasadora u Švedskoj Rolovića dobio sam depešu od svog šefa Grkovića da se odmah vratim u Jugoslaviju. Posle dolaska u Jugoslaviju morao sam da razradim mnoge stvari. Kada je sve bilo gotovo, naređeno mi je da se vratim u Švedsku, da posetim što pre Vladimira Bačvića, da mu otvoreno kažem da sam agent Dapčevićevih ljudi i da već dugo vremena radim u toj grupi, i da ceo naš razgovor snimim.

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ISPOVEST JEDNOG RAZOCARANOG UDBAŠA (19)

petak, 7. maj 2004.

 

http://www.danas.co.yu/20040507/feljton1.html

 

Veza hrvatskog partijskog rukovodstva i emigracije

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ZORAN JOVANOVIC
U STOKHOLM sam stigao pocetkom septembra 1971. godine. Pored ostalog bilo mi je naredeno da utvrdim ko su emigranti koji su iz Engleske stigli u Švedsku i tamo otvaraju kockarnice. Brzo sam utvrdio da je na celu te grupe neki Obrad, rodom iz Niša, zvani Bata. Bata je bio dugogodišnji emigrant. Pomagao je mnoge srpske nacionalne organizacije i niko nije sumnjao da su on i njegovi ljudi tajni agenti Udbe. Sa jednim od njih, Dušanom Sekulicem, sa Ringom i njegovim bratom Rajkom, otvorili smo jedan kazino - Montenegro.
Sastao sam se kako mi je naredeno - sa Vladimirom Bacvicem. On mi je pricao da zna za povezanost partijskog rukovodstva Hrvatske sa hrvatskim emigrantima. Tražio je sto hiljada kuna da mi da imena ljudi iz Jugoslavije, koji su povezani sa emigracijom. Ja sam sve snimio što je on govorio i odmah poslao centrali.
Oktobra meseca iste godine desio se pokušaj ubistva Dušana Sekulica u klubu Montenegro. Ja sam atentatora odmah razoružao i zatvorio u jednu sobicu u podrumu kluba, koja nam je služila za saslušavanje. Atentator se zvao Tomislav Rebrina. Odmah je priznao. Jedva sam uspeo da ga odbranim od Duška Sekulica koji je hteo da ga odmah ubije. Duško nije znao ono što sam ja znao. Rebrina je priznao da radi po naredenju Udbe iz Osijeka, i da mu to nije prvi put da ubija. Takode mi je priznao da više godina radi kao Udbin agent iz Osijeka i da je za sve to vreme bio clan hrvatskih ekstremistickih organizacija u inostranstvu. Takode mi je priznao da švedska tajna služba ima dodira sa tom grupom u Osijeku i da se trenutno nalazi u Osijeku švedski tajni agent po imenu Igram von Rosen. Snimio sam ceo Rebrinov iskaz dok je Ringo cuvao stražu pred vratima podruma, kako Sekulic onako razjaren ne bi opet pokušao da ubije Rebrinu. Oko pet sati ujutru priveo sam Rebrinu švedskoj policiji sa optužbom da je u klubu Montenegro pokušao da ubije Dušana Sekulica. Sutradan sam bio pozvan u švedsku tajnu policiju SEPO. Najviše ih je zanimalo šta sam radio sa pismom koje sam našao kod Rebrine. Pravio sam se da ništa ne znam ni o kakvom pismu. Posle jednog meseca prisustvovao sam sudenju Rebrini, ali nisam ništa kazao što bi ga teretilo. Tako mi je bilo naredeno od mog šefa. Rebrina je dobio svega dva meseca zatvora.
Švedska tajna služba se pocela sve više interesovati za mene i pokušavala na sve moguce nacine da me pridobije da radim za nju. Izrazili su želju da budem trener karatea u njihovoj službi. Što nisu mogli postici milom, pokušali su raznim trikovima. Jedan od trikova je bio da su mi bili podmetnuli jednu nepunoletnu devojcicu da prespavam sa njom i onda me optužili za prekršaj zakona, što sam imao seksualni odnos sa nepunoletnom devojkom. Docnije sam utvrdio da se ta, uistinu nepunoletna devojka, vec više od godinu dana skita nocu po klubovima i da je pre mene spavala sa više muškaraca. Moj odnos sa jednom punoletnom Švedankom okategorisali su kao silovanje i cak su me izveli na sud. Umesto za silovanje, osudili su me na zatvor za 18 tuca koje sam pocinio po klubovima, gde sam radio kao cuvar reda. Sve je ovo bio pritisak na mene da se privolim švedskoj tajnoj službi i pocnem da radim za nju.

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ISPOVEST JEDNOG RAZOČARANOG UDBAŠA (20)

subota-nedelja, 8-9. maj 2004

http://www.danas.co.yu/20040508/feljton1.html#2

Neopisiva radost zbog odluke da ubijem Dapčevića

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ZORAN JOVANOVIĆ
Dok sam sedeo u zatvoru (zbog tuča u Švedskoj pod pritiskom švedske tajne službe, prim. ur.), napisao sam dve knjige: "Beogradsko podzemlje" i drugu "Čovek bez vere". Sadržina ove knjige govori o mojoj generaciji prepuštenoj sudbini, koja nije verovala ni u šta. Ringo je bio u Jugoslaviji na odsluženju vojnog roka. Dobio sam od njega pismo u kome je stajalo da pokušam da uspostavim vezu sa stricem. U našoj šifri stric je bio Marko Milunović iz Švedske, a Vladu Dapčevića smo uvek zvali "Čiko".
Pisao sam Marku Milunoviću i poslao mu neku ploču sa starim srpskim pesmama. Milunović mi je najsrdačnije zahvalio pismom. Nije ni slutio da ću ubrzo biti pripreman da mu skinem glavu. Od Grkovića sam dobio naređenje da ga namamim u Upsalu. Čudilo me je zašto da idem u Upsalu, kad sam mogao lako da ga "sredim" u Vasterasu. Milunoviću sam pisao iz Upsale kao Radoje Kovačević. Takav mi je pasoš poslao moj šef Grković iz Jugoslavije. Milunović mi je odgovorio na pismo, ali kao stari oprezan emigrant vešto je odbio da dođe u Upsalu. Moji šefovi u Jugoslaviji su ovo smatrali za moj neuspeh i najstrožije me ukorili, i naredili mi da uništim sav materija koji imam kod sebe i da se odmah vratim u Jugoslaviju. Po povratku u zemlju, moj šef Obrad Grković me je neprijateljski dočekao. Čak nije hteo ni da se rukuje sa mnom. Umesto pozdrava, oslovio me je:
- Ipak si došao, izdajniče.
To više nije bio onaj isti Grković koji mi se skoro ulagivao, veličajući moje špijunske vrednosti. Grubo mi je naredio da se nigde ne mičem iz Beograda i tamo čekam dalja naređenja. Dok sam čekao u Beogradu, iscenirao je podmuklo i vešto jedan fizički napad na mene. Grupa njegovih najamnika me je jedne večeri u Skadarliji isprebijala i komadima cigala me svog iskrvavila po glavi.
Možda bi njegova odmazda nada mnom bila još strašnija da se moj otac nije lično obratio našem rođaku Radošu Nediću, visokom službeniku novosadske Udbe. Radoš Nedić me je dugo ispitivao o mome radu i najzad, kao rođak, rešio da mi pomogne i da mi da još jednom šansu, da se vratim u Švedsku i ispravim greške koje sam počinio. Prvo će me poslati u Holandiju, a zatim ću preći u Švedsku da likvidiram Stipeta Mikulića i još jednog Hrvata, i za tu svrhu mi je dao novi pasoš na ime Đurić Obrad. Takođe mi je rekao da Marko Milunović više nije opasan i da su obaveštenja o njemu bila netačna, i da on sada zna šta Milunović doručkuje.
Nedić je docnije malko izmenio svoj plan. Dao mi je 3.000 nemačkih maraka, s tim da odmah otputujem za Holandiju i odande produžim za Norvešku, odnosno za Oslo, gde će me on čekati u hotelu De Ribo. U Holandiju sam stigao sredinom septembra 1973. godine. Odatle sam produžio za Norvešku i sastao se, sa izvesnim zakašnjenjem zbog kvara na mom automobilu, sa Nedićem. Nedić mi je naredio da se vratim u Holandiju i da nastojim da se tamo što više sprijateljim s njegovim agentom Sašom Čolakovićem i zakazao mi novi sastanak u Holandiji.
Čekajući Radoša Nedića, otišao sam jednog dana u restoran Bumerang i tamo se slučajno upoznao sa dva mlada čoveka. Jedan se predstavio kao Batke, a drugi kao Marko, i obojica kao Makedonci. Oni su mi otkrili tajnu da su ovde na turneji kao turisti, što znači da su kriminalci. Sprijateljio sam se s njima i pridobio ih da rade za mene.
Igrom slučaja, ova su dvojica bili uz mene kada mi se radilo o glavi po naređenju svemoguće Udbe.
Najzad je stigao moj novi šef Radoš Nedić. Odveo me je u jedan usamljeni restoran i tu mi svečano saopštio da je odlučeno da odem u Brisel i ubijem Vladu Dapčevića.
Kada sam čuo da sam baš ja određen da ubijem Vladu Dapčevića, celog me je prožimala neka neopisiva radost. Topio sam se od ponosa. Mislio sam, ako izvedem ovaj veliki podvig, da će sve želje moga budućeg života biti ostvarene.
Rekao mi je da u Briselu nađem Boru Blagojevića, koji drži kafanu Sarajevo i da će me on povezati, s Vladom Dapčevićem. Dobio sam i broj Dapčevićevog telefona.
Po dogovoru sa Nedićem, kada sam prvi put telefonom razgovarao sa Dapčevićem, predstavio sam mu se svojim imenom Zoran Jovanović i kazao da mu donosim pozdrave iz Rumunije od Slobodana Kovačevića i Milana Zubana. Za Dapčevića je to bilo dovoljno i odmah mi je zakazao dan kada će me primiti.
Nedić mi je po kuriru poslao pištolj (kolt revolver). Sve je bilo spremno i ostvarenje velikog cilja bilo mi je na domaku ruke.
Po kuriru koji mi je doneo revolver, Nedić mi naređuje da 16. decembra 1974. godine odem u Brisel sam. Da posetim Dapčevića i, čim otvori vrata, da ga izrešetam mecima i što pre pobegnem ne u Holandiju, kako je ranije planirao, već u Minhen. On će me čekati na zakazanom mestu. Ova mi se promena učinila sumnjivom. Zašto da idem u Brisel sam? Počeo sam da sumnjam da možda Nedić želi da, pored Dapčevića, i ja budem tamo izrešetan. To me je užasno ljutilo, ali sam se uzdržao da to pokažem pred Nedićevim kurirom. Pa sam, iako nerado, savladao samoga sebe i odlučio da odem u Brisel i jednom izvršim to ubistvo i otklonim sve sumnje od sebe, i dokažem svima da nisam izdajnik.
U Brisel sam stigao 16. decembra. Poveo sam sa sobom i Marka Makedonca. Marka sam ostavio da me čeka u jednom restoranu koji je držala neka naša žena, po imenu Zora. Marku sam rekao da me čeka dok ja posvršavam neke poslove u gradu. Pitao me je zašto sam tako bled u licu, "da nisam bolestan". Objasnio sam mu da je to verovatno zato što imam mali nazeb. Marko nije znao ništa o cilju moga dolaska u Brisel.
Iz Zorinog restorana telefonirao sam Dapčeviću oko 13 sati, da sam stigao u Brisel i on mi je dao svoju adresu - Avenue George Bergman.
Uzeo sam jedan taksi i povezao se ka Dapčeviću. Usput su mi navirale svakojake misli. Za trenutak sam počeo da se kolebam i postavljam sebi čudna pitanja. Takve sam misli energično odagnao od sebe. Odlučio sam tvrdo da, čim se Dapčević pojavi na vratima, odmah pucam u njega. Već sam ga u mislima video kako nemoćno pada na pod, smrtno pogođen iz moga revolvera.
Opet mi je nešto šaputalo da li je u redu da na ovakav način ubijem jednog nemoćnog starca? Opet sam hrabrio sebe i umirivao svoju nemirnu savest, da je Dapčević neprijatelj i najveći krvnik naše zemlje. Da on želi propast mome ocu, dedi, stricu. Da želi da uništi sve ono zašta su se oni borili. Da unesreći moga brata, sestru i ceo naš narod. To mi je opet davalo snagu da ga ubijem bez milosti.

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http://www.danas.co.yu/img/b_box.gif Nastavlja se

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ISPOVEST JEDNOG RAZOČARANOG UDBAŠA (21)

ponedeljak, 10. maj 2004.

 

http://www.danas.co.yu/20040510/feljton1.html#2

 

Umesto potezanja revolvera, pozdrav sa Dapčevićem

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Zoran JOVANOVIĆ
Iz tih sam se razmišljanja (da li da ubije Dapčevića,ili ne, prim. ur.) trgnuo kada je taksi stao pred jednu trospratnicu u kojoj je stanovao Dapčević. Pritisnuo sam na zvučnik i odmah čuo njegov glas.
- Izvoli gore. Nalazim se na drugom spratu. Čekaću te pred vratima.
Ustrčao sam lako uz stepenice. Lift mi nije bio potreban. Stigao sam pred Dapčevićeva vrata, ali on još nije izlazio. Zazvonio sam. Stavio sam ruku u džep i obuhvatio dršku revolvera koji je bio napunjen i otkočen.
Vrata su se naglo otvorila i ja sam zabezeknut ugledao Dapčevića kako sa osmehom i srdačnim glasom obraća:
- Zdravstvuj, tavarišč.
Ruka mi je nesvesno i bez revolvera poletela ka Dapčevićevoj pruženoj desnici. "Zdravo, čika Vlado", uzviknuo sam radosno i lice mi se razvuklo u dug i srdačan osmeh.
Ranije sam, prilikom sličnih susreta, ostajao hladan kao stena i vladao sam potpuno sobom. Srdačan osmeh i toplina Vladinih očiju su me potpuno osvojili i verovatno u meni iznenada probudili neke ljudske osobine, skrivene negde duboko u mojoj podsvesti. Njegov mi se lik učinio kao lik našeg velikog heroja Save Kovačevića. Dapčević je bio prosed. Prevalio je šezdesetu ali je izgledao stariji. Na licu su mu se ocrtavali tragovi teškog života u ratu i na robiji. Oči su mu svetlele poput luče. Iz očiju mu je izbijao beskrajno poverenje, iako me prvi put vidi. Stisnuo mi je ruku kao da sam mu rođeni sin. Uveo me je u kuću i ponudio čašicom rakije. Bili smo sami. Počeli smo da razgovaramo. Čudio sam se šta se to dešava sa mnom.
Pucaj, šta čekaš - govorio je u meni onaj Zoran, žedan krvi i slave - Zoran, vaspitnik Udbe.
Onaj drugi Zoran je govorio da pričekam, da se malko porazgovaram sa ovim plemenitim starcem.
Pogrešio sam i poslušao ovog drugog Zorana. To je bila moja velika slabost i greška, ali njom se danas ponosim.
Odjednom sam se osetio kao na optuženičkoj klupi i čuo glas svoje probuđene savesti: Ti si, Zorane, ubica. Tvoje žrtve nisu ubice. Ubice su ti i oni koji te plaćaju da ubijaš.
Razgovarali smo skoro ceo sat. Vladin pogled je bio sve topliji, osmeh sve vedriji. Pričao mi je o svojoj supruzi i detetu.
Prikupio sam svu snagu, pogledao ga pravo u oči i kazao mu ko sam i zašto sam došao.
Verovatno je moje lice opet dobilo onaj snažan izraz pred likvidaciju nemoćne žrtve. Ali ovaj divni starac nije niti uzviknuo niti se pomerio sa mesta, a njegov mi je pogled govorio:
- Dobro, onda pucaj u mene starca.
Oborio sam skrušeno pogled i klonuo celim telom. Postao sam odjednom mek kao jagnje i pokajničkim glasom počeo da se ispovedam čičici koga prvi put u životu vidim i čije sam krvi bio toliko žedan.
Bio je iznenađen što Udba zna sve o njemu. Nisam mu dao nijedno ime mojih šefova. Nisam bio pripremljen za sve to. Obećao sam mu da ću se opet javiti.
Odjednom je ovladalo neko čudno osećanje mojim duhom i telom. Sve je oko mene izgledalo novo, lepo i nepoznato. Vlada me je ispratio do ulice. Seo sam u taksi i ubrzo stigao kod Marka. U šest sati smo seli u voz koji je grabio ka Holandiji. U Briselu je ostao Vlada Dapčević živ i zdrav, a šta će sa mnom biti - nije me mnogo interesovalo. Osećao sam neku dotle meni nepoznatu slobodu i hteo sam da nesmetano što duže u njoj uživam. Počeo sam razdragan da pevušim jednu veselu pesmicu. Marko me je gledao začuđeno, jer je nestalo onog strašnog bledila sa moga lica. Okove koje sam sebi stavio, sam sam ih i zbacio.

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*        Kraj

 
 

TITOVA MASINA ZA UBIJANJE

TITO’S MOORDMASCHINE

BY SLOBODAN RADOJEV MITRIC

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ROMAN BEOGRADSKA MASINA ZA UBIJANJE PISAN JE 1981 GODINE ... CIA JE ZAPLENILA RUKOPIS TOG ROMANA KOJI NIKAD NIJE UGLEDAO SVETLOST DANA... DR. SLOBODAN RADOJEV MITRIC  U  BEOGRADSKOJ MASINA ZA BIJANJE (GDE SU OPISANA U DETALJ SVA POLITICKA UBISTVA DO TOG VREMENA )PISE 1981 GODINE TRECI ROMAN TITOVA MASINA ZA UBIJANJE (SLIKOVITO I U DETALJ  OPISUJE MNOGA POLITICKA UBISTVA NAD EMIGRANTIMA KOJA SU IZVRSILI PRIPADNICI TITOVIH TAJNIH SLUZBI ...) KNJIGA JE STAMPANA ALI NA ZAHTEV KOMUNISTICKE JUGOSLAVIJE HOLANDSKA DRZAVA ZABRANILA JE NJENU PRODAJU... U DOE PRILOZENOM MATERIJALU  STRANA 67 DO 76 OPISANA JE "PROVALA" GDE JE NAJAJNIJOJ TITOVOJ KONTRAOBAVESTAJNOJ SLUZBI USPELO DA SE DOKOPA  MAGNETOFONSKIH SNIMAKA KOJE SU PO NAREDJENJU MINISTRA UNUTRASNJIH POSLOVA  ALEKSANDRA RANKOICA  TAJNO SNIMANI U SPAVACOJ SOBI MARSALA.. OVU "PROVALU" HOLANDSKA I  JUGOSLOVESKA  DRZAVA KORISTILA JE KAKO BI SRBSKOG KNJIZEVNIKA PROGLASILA KRIMINALCOM..

ALI ZAKLELA SE ZEMLJA RAJU DA SE TAJNE SVE DOSNAJU ...

 

 

 

 

"PROVALNIK"

 

Dubrovnik, 7 juli 1966

 

Beogra, 10 juni 1966

 TAJNA (Kontra Obavestajna Sluzba)

NAREDBA

Pukovnik Mitar Matovic, zaposlen u stabu Ratnog vazduhoplovstva u Zemun , ove godine je vec  pet puta putovao za Dubrovnik.To nisu bia sluzbena putovanja . On je uvek leteo Jatovim avijonom. Poznato nam  je da je svoju suprugu  uvek lazno  izvestavao da se radi o “sluzbenom” putu … Sluzbenici KOS-a su jos sezdesete godine  dobili narednjenje da  provere lijalnos Pukonika Mitra Matovica. To je bila ubicajna rutinska kontrola koja je odmah nakon nekoliko meseci istrage pokazala da je optuzba u vezi nelojalnsti pukovnka Mitra Matovica neosnovana. Od tog vremena on se nalazijo na A listi (lista lojalnih i proverenih ljudi).

Ali posle “automobilske nesrece” General-majora Radoja Kovacevica istraznim organima  bilo je jasno  da je  pukovnik Matovic  nekoliko puta bio na “ekskurziji”sa Generalom  Kovacevicem  gde to cak nije bilo poznato njihovim suprugama.

Zbog  svega toga komanda KOS-a izdala je naredbu da se drug Matovic opet stavi  na listu B (ljudi cija se lojalnost iIi odanost  treba proveriti). Tako je Pukovnik Matovic  opet bijo 24 sata na dan pod prismotrom. Ustanovljeno je da je on ove godine 5 puta posetijo grad Dubrovnik, gde se ustanovilo da on tamo nema  prijatelje niti ljubavnicu. On bi u gradu Dubrovniku  samo prenocio i sledeceg dana vratijo bi se za Beograd. Svaki put nosio je sa sobom veliku diplomatsku tasnju . Tu bi tasnju uvek prilikom dolaska u Dubrovnik deponirao u gardarobi centralne autobske stanice gde bi sledeceg jutra leteo za Beograd bez tasnje.

Povodom ovog otkrica postavljaju  se pitanja:

1.       Sta se nalazilo u tasnji?

2.       Zasto je on uvek sa tasnjom  putovao za Dubrovnik a vracao se bez tasnje za Beograd?

3.       Zasto je on uvek deponovao tasnju u gardarobu Dubrovacke autobusne stanice kad nikad nije koristijo autobus, nego je uvek uzimao taxi  do svog hotela koji se nalazijo vrlo daleko od autobuske stanice.

4.       Ko je i kojim putem vracao tasnju pukovnika Matovica za Beograd.

Operativce KOS-a mucilo je pitanje kako razmrsiti ovu zagoneku:

1.        Pregledati tasnju  Pukovnika Matovica prilikom napustanja Jatovog avijona?

2.        Pricekato dok on deponira tasnju na Dubrovackoj autobuskoj  gardarobi  i onda od sluzbenih lica  gardarobe traziti istu I prekontrolisati?

3.       Pricekati dok druga osoba dodje da preuzme tasnju, tu osobu uhapsiti I tasnju prekontrolisati?

Sve su ove mogucnosti detaljno proucene I analizirane I kao riskantne odbacene .

U koliko bi se prislo direktnoj kontroli Pukovnika Matovica   on bi stvar mogao upropsatiti u koliko bi se I on kao pokojni general-major  Kovacevic  javno suprstavijo  na aerodrumu i  nacinio kaos, gde bi  opet bili izlozeni  jedanom skandalu.

Operativci KOSA su zakljcili: Tako nesta nesmemo sebi dopustiti.

1.       Ko nam garantuje da  radnik autobuske gardarobe nije umesan u celu ovu aferu gde mu je poznato sta se nalazi u tasnji,  gde bi onda lako mogao obavestiti  vlasnika tasnje I  njegove saucesnke. Takvim postupkom bi nepotrebno njih alarmirali u koliko se legitimisemo.

2.       Mogucnost Hapsenja onog koji dodje da preuzme tasnju odbacuje se takodje  kao riskantno , jer nam nije  poznato da li se zbilja ista  nalazi u tasnji ,sto je upereno protiv bezbednosti nase drzave, mozda je tu u pitanju obican mali sverc.

Prilikom poslednje posete pukovnika Matovica Dubrovniku uspelo nam je da ustanovimo ko je covek koji  prezima tasnju iz gardarobe .

To je bijo poslovodja jedne samousluge iz Makarske. Taj poslovodja N.N. preuzeo je istu tasnju koju je dan pre toga deponovao pukovnik Matovic, gde je nakon toga uzeo autobus za Makarsku.

Nasi obavestajci su ga pratili i ustanovili da je on poslovodja u samousluzi.

Posle toga desilo se nesta nepredvidjeno, sto je nase operativce dovelo u dilemu:

 Opertivci koji su bili zaduzeni da nagledaju gardarobu na autobuskoj stanici u Dubrovniku  iznenadili su se kad su opazili jos jednog coveka koji  je sat nakon da je poslovodja iz Makarske napustijo gardarobu sa Maticevom tasnjom , takodje iznijo iz gardarobe gotovo istu tasnju.

Taj se covek taksijem uputijo prema centru Dubrovnika. Obavestajci su ga pratili ali posle jednog sata izgubili su ga iz oka.Tako da ga nismo mogli identifisati.

Postavja se pitanje:

Sta sad?

Ovaj slucaj je vrlo ozbiljan. Moramo brzo i energocno delovati  da bi postigli povoljan rezultat.

Posle vrlo duge diskusije usvojen je predlog  Majora Bozidara Nikolica: sledeci put izvrsiti provalu u gardarobu autobuske stanice,Pronaci  tasnju i izvrsiti kontrolu sadrzine.Ta provala mora stvarno da lici kao da je “stvrana”. To znaci da se koferi I ostale tasnje nevinih ljudi takodje moraju otvarati i vredne stvari  uzeti. Niko nesme da posumnja da je to delo  KOS-a. Ako “provala”ne dovede do plodnog rezltata onda stvar zaboraviti.. ali u koliko se pronadju vredni materijali za KOS , koji su  uprti protiv naseg naroda i drzave , onda ce mo naknadno doneti odluku sta da se radi…

Naposleku je odluceno da se takodje izvrsi provala i u kancalariji poslovodje u samousluzi u  Makarskoj.

Od Majora Nikolica dobih pismeno naredjenje sa  sematskim prikazom autobuske stanice I gardarobe u Dubrovniku.Sve to brzo naucih napamet. I dokumenat pod sifrom TAJNA koji je potpisao nacelnik KOS-a zapalih i dokazini materijal kao, i obocno po propisu unistih.

Priprema za provalu trazila je mnogo vremena i strpljenja.Bili smo primorani da pricekamo na sesto putovanje Pukovnika Matovica za Dubrovnik. U medjuvemenu  bijo sam zaduzen da pronadjem pravog provalnka. Poznavao sam jednog iz Foce.Bijo je godinu dana mladji od mene. Ja sam vec bio punoletan 18 godina i 5 meseci , ako se to moze nazvati  punoljestvom. Bijo sam vec clan Komunisticke Partije i zvanicno primljen u sluzbu KOS-a. . Pukovni Jeremic i major Nikolic ispunili su svoja obecanja.

Ja zelim ovde jos nesta jasno da naglasim. Moja porodica nije znala das sam postao clan KOS-a I komunisticke  partije. Moji roditelji nisu smeli da znaju cime se  bavim  zbog  toga sto sam cesto dugo bijo otsutan  imao sam poteskoca kuci. Moja majka je bila vrlo ljuta na mene zato sto sam sedmicama bijo otsutan , pa me je psovala svim moguci psovkama.  Bandit, lutalica, djubre, mrcina, nisavko itd… Plasila se da ne postanem  ulicar ili kriminalac.

Takodj moj braco I sestrca koje sam retko vidjao nisu nista znali o mom zivotu izvan kuce. I oni su se sekirali zbog mene . Nakon tri godine   skole u privredi  dan pre polaganja zavrsnog ispita kad sam trebao da dobijem diplomu kvalifikovanog elektricara , dobjo sam zadatak od KOS-a da nekog “Pratim”.  Tako je moja diploma i miran gradjanski zivot otisao do vraga. Kad sam protestvao kod sefa KOS-a i rekao da ja stvarno zeim da diplomram i neka neko drugi taj dan uzme moje mesto , Nikolic mi se nasmejao: “Ti jos uvek nisi shvatijo, da si ti postao vojnik. Ti si vazan kontraobavestajac. Sa tvojih 18 godina postao si clan KOS-a i ti ces u buducnosti postici ono sto tvoje starije klege samo mogu da sanjaju. Uozbiji se vec jednom  I shvati da si postao vazan factor. “Elektricara  imamo I previse”. Stim je on  zavrsi svoju besedu I poceo da   me tesi.

 Sad kad sam od KOS-a bio zaduzen da izvrsim tako vaznu  i opasnu  provalu za mene vise nije bilo povratka nazad.

 Naredjenje- Izvrsenje!

U vezi  provale pitao sam: “Sta da radim ako me neko na licu mesta primeti I pozove miliciju?”

“U tom slucaju , bilo kako bilo moras zbrisati sa lica mesa, naravno sa  materijalom koji se nalazi u  tasnji Pukovnika Matovica. Ja cu te cekati odmah tamo iza autobske stanice. Ti treba u tom slucaju da skocis kroz prozor koji gleda prema  bazenu za kupanje,”  objasnjava  major Nikolic I pokazuje mi dobro nacrtanu semu , hotela, autobuske stanice,  gardarobe, bazena   za plivanje, kao I mesto gde ce me on cekati nakon izvrsenog zadatka.

Dalje kaze on: “Kad skocis kroz prozor , ja cu se proderati. “Stoj!” Ti baci onda stvari koje pronadjes u tasnji na zemlju i bezi u pravcu Jadranske magistrale.  Ja cu te kasnije prihvatiti tamo u  moja kola .”

Posto je sve dogovoreno sad je jedino bilo potrebno strpljivo cekati da Matovic opet podje za Dubrovnik. Mog provalnika  preuzeh iz Foce. Ispricah mu vrlo privlacnu pricu:Da sam zbrisao od kuce i da sam se uputijo prema Jadransko moru gde planiram tamo da vrsim provale da bih se dokopao love  i uzivao sa lepim strankinjama. On se odmah ponudi da mi se pridruzi. U mojim ocima izgledao mi je jos zelen , slinonja ali bijo mi je potreban.

Nakon proslave bitke na Sutjesci  na tjentistu 4 jula , gde sam bijo u pratnji sve- glavnog Taje nastavijo sam put sa mojim drugom Focanskim Lopovom poreklom iz Trebinja,   Crnom Gorom preko Niksica, Titograda do Bara, gde smo se onda brodom odvezli u Dubrovnik, dva dana pre nego je Pukovnik Matovic tamo stigao.

U Dubrovniku sam morao da se  sastanem sa majorom Nikolicem  da bih dobijo poslednja uputstva.

Svom mladjem  kolegi-provalniku izmislih  jednu pricu. Rekoh mu da moram da se se sastanem sa jednom starijom prijateljicom , da bi preko nje saznao gde se nalazi najvise love.

Bilo je vece. Od Nikolica saznah da je pukovniki Matovic stigao u Dubrovnik  i svoju tasnju vec u pet sati popodne opet deponovao u   gardarobu .

 Prilikom rastanka major Bozidar Nikolic dobaci: “Sad na posao i nemoj da me obrukas.

Povedoh mog kolegu provalnika I po planu sakrismo se u stanicni podrumski klozet. Tu sacekasmo neka dva tri sata dok se ne zatvori stanicni restoran. To se desilo tacno u pola tri posle pola noci, u mrtvoj tisini za svaki slucaj pricekali smo jos neko vreme .

Mom  mladjem “kolegi  provalnku “ unapred sam skrenuo paznju da mora da otvara kofere I tasnje I sabira vredne stvari.

U tri sata  napustismo  kroz jedan mali prozorcic podrumski klozet  i obresmo se u autobuskoj cikaonici puzeci  pored menjacnice prema gardarobi  , najednom mladi provalnik prosapce: “Pazi. Tu se nlaze pare! Ajmo u nutra, mozda se lova nalazi u ladicama  I ormanima..”

Skamenih se. Njegov predlog da idemo u menjacnicu bio je logican. Pa zar nismo ovde zbog novca. Opsovah u sebi  blesavog majora Nikolica koji je zeleo da za ovu provalu ima profesijonalnog provalnika. Ja sam sam moga celu stvar srediti, ali major Nikolic I pukovnik Jeremic nisu hteli da me poslusaju. Ovaj Focak bijo je vec profesijonalni lopov i provalnik.

Brzo razmisljam kako da ga odvratim od provale u menjacnicu. “Ne! Nedolazi u obzir. Tu je sigurno postavljena alarmna instalacija.“ prosaptah.

On klimne potvrdno , a ja nastavih ”Tamo u gardarobi je lakse a u koferima se verovtno nalazi mnogo dragocenosti”.

Dan pre ove provale pokazao sam mu mesto gde treba da krademo. Puzili smo dalje I dospesmo u hodnik koji  je razdvajao restoran I gardarobu.Tu se podigosmi : “Idi u restoran I potrazi nesta za jelo!” Rekoh svom kolegi.

On me poslusa. Ja brzo udjoh u gardarobu .Bacih se odmah na posao. Gardaroba se nalazila u vrlo maloj prostoriji.Tu se nalazilo pedesetak kofera I tasnji… Upalih svoju minijaturnu bateriju I brzo pronadjoh zeljenu  tasnju koju prepoznah sa slike,  koja se nalazila na ladici pod brojem 7. Da bih se uverijo da je zbilja to tasnja koju trazim jos jednom dobro osvelih po ostalim koferima I tasnjama . Brzo ustanovih da nijedna druga tasja ni priblizno ne lici tasnji pukovnika Matovica. Sad sam bijo siguran. To je tasnja ciju sadrzinu moram preuzeti..Nazalost I druge tasnje I koferi bili su osudjeni da se istresu.. tako da ujutru kad se osoblje gardarobe vrati na posao sve mora dati siku da se radi o pravoj provali.  Pritisnuh dugme na mom skakavcu-nozu. On skljocnu , zarezah po tasnji. Brzo je rasporih. Zaprepastih se kad tu samo pronadjoh; jednu pecenu kokosku uvjenu u novine I  jedan  kg. hleba.  

Moj mladji kolega provalnik se jos uvek nalazi u restoranskoj kuhinji, ocigledno mu se ne zuri, valjda uziva  u ukusnim jelima?

Ja opet dobro razgledam po ostalim koferima I tasnjama .Ali bez rezultata. Nijedna druga tasnja ne lici na tasnju pukovnika Matovica. ‘Znaci to je taj veliki  zlocin pukovnika Matovica.’ Nasalih se sam sa sobom.’Da li je zbilja cela ova operacija bila potrebna zbog jedne pecene kokoske i suvog hleba? Kako su onda  moji sefovi bili glupi. Ako ova stvar ikad procuri, kako ce nam se nasi neprijatelji smijati. Jugislovenska najtajnija kontra Obavestajna Sluzba TAJNA prati  vec mesecima pukovnika Matovica koji jedanput mesecno iz Beograda nosi jednu pecenu kokosku i jedan  kg. hleba. Ali da li bi neki normalan covek bas zbog toga odlazijo u Dubrovnik da deponuje ovde u gardarobi pecenu kokosku i  hleb. Zasto ne? Nikom nije zabranjeno da nosi pecenu kokosku kako bi ga jeftinije kostao put . A mozda nije on kokosku nosijo za sebe , nego zbog nekog drgog. To mi izgleda vlo cudno. Zasto bi neko avijonom nosijo jelo  na razdaljini od 500 km iz Beograda do Dubrovnika ?  zakljucih jednostavno. Ili ovo nije tasnja pukovnika Matovica ili je nesta drugo po sredi. ili se  u medju vremenu nesta trece desilo? Mozda je neko od radnika koji rade u gardarobi tasnju pukovnka Matovica odmah zamenijo ili je neko jos sinoc spolja dosao i  tasnju pukovnika Matovicapr uzeo a tu na mesto stavijo ovu sa pecenom kokoskom i hlebom?’

Naposleku resih da unutrasnjost tasnje jos jednom proverim.Opet ustanovih da se tu nista drugo ne nalazi izuzev kokoske i hleba.Podignem kokosku. Zagledam je i konsatujem da se u kokoski nista ne nalazi. Kokoska je vrlo lepo mrisala i ja otrgnem jednu butinu, koju sa apetitom pojedem. Onda prelomim hleb na dve polovie, bijo je prilicno tvrd ali vrlo ukusan. Kad sam bijo zauzet zderanjem kokosijeg buta , primetih kako moj  mladij kolega dolazi iz restoracije u gardarobu. Noseci dve pivske flase i ukusnog mezeta na tanjiru,. Kad primeiti da ja nesta zvacem upita: “Sta jedes bolan”

“Pecenu kokos”odgovorih. “Pronasao sam je u prvoj tasnji  koju sam otvorijo.

“Daj i meni bolan butinu.” veli on..

Otgnem drugu kokosiju butinu I pruzim mu je… on je halapljivo  poce da maze , pa se zatim  dade na posao. Poce da otvara kofere i tasnje.pa sve stvari koje mu se dopadaju stavlja na gomilu .Ja nastavih da jedem. Moje misli bile su kod majora Nikolica. Sta ce on o svemo ovom reci. Zasto je bilo potrebno da se izvrsi ova blesava provala. Zar nije bijo ni jedan drugi moguci nacin. I je li sa ovim moje naredjenje ispunjeno? Kakva glupost! Pecena kokoska!? Tako razmisljeuci poceh da secem meso dublje u kokoski,. “hoces lij jos komad mesa” ponudih mom kolegi,.On odmahne rukom pa veli;”sta ti je bolan, sto mi nepomognes?”

“Gladan sam ko vuk” velim i nastavih da jedem.

Kad sam ostatak kokoske hteo da odbacim , opipah vrhovima  mojih prsti  nesta cvrsto u kokosinjoj utrobi .Nesto se zalepi na moje prste, Uperih svetlosni mlaz  minijaturne baterije i primetih jednu plasticnu kesicu.Brzo obema rukama razdvojih kokosija rebra  i izvadih jedan predmet koji nije bijo visi od obicne kutije sibica.

“Moram u klozet” slagah mog druga.”pozlilo mi je”.

“Kako i nebi . Pojeo si celu kokosku”pecka me on.,.

U klozetu pokusah prstima da otvorim  plasticnu kesicu , ali zbog masnoce mi to neuspe, zato je rastrgog zubima..

Tu se nalazila jedna minijaturna magnetofnska traka.

Bijo sam presretan da ovo sve nije bilo uzalud ; ‘kakvu tajnu krije ova magnetofonska traka’pomislih i  radostan  vrisnuoh. Na svu srecun to se desi u podrumskom nuzniku. Brzo se smirim strpam magneofnsku traku u zdep  i  uputim se nazad svom drugu, koji je na podu gararobe nacinijo veliku gomilu vrednh stvari  iz kofera i tasnji.; najlon carape, tranzistore, fotoaparate, konzerve i bog ti sam znao sta jos ne.

U dve druge tasnje poce moj kolega da trpa sve te stvari koje je nameravao da ponese. Tog momnta u restoraciji se  iznenada upalise svetla. Cujemo necije korake . oba pretnemo  od straha. Munjevito trcimo prema klozetima i tu se sakrijemo.kroz malu pukotinu primetih jednog mladica koji prodje pored nas ali nas neprimeti. Moj kolega pade u paniku. “sta da radimo” sapce. Primetih da se u njegovoj ruci obre noz.

Pretrnem. Brzo zgrabim njegovun ruku.”Daj mi to!”- velim ljuto. I oduzeh mu noz.

On se srecom nesuprostavi. Ali poluglasno vice:”Ubi ga. Ubi ga! zabi mu ga u ledja!”

On je hteo da ubije tog coveka radije nego da padne u ruke milicije.

“Kog  bre da ubijem.Djubre jedno!” dreknem. “Skaci kroz prozor. Ovde mi vise nemamo sta da trazimo.”

Receno! Uradjeno! Pomognem mu da se provuce kroz prozorsko okno .Onda I ja podjoh za njim Trcimo. . Iza nas cuje se snazno lupanje na prozoroima  pored bazena za PLIVANJE…Brzo se okrenem I spazim da je to isti covek koji je za dlaku izbegao smrt zahvaljujuci mojoj brzoj intervenciji . Oba se brzo i ja i moj lopovski  kolga nadjosmo u jednoj velikoj prostoriji. Otvaram prozor.Skacemo jedan po jedan  sa visine od sest metara nadole..

Kad se stecno ,neozledjeni nadjosmo na zemlji.. zacuh stog poznat glas iza mene.

“Stoj! Stoj!”

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
CBOB=2j
 
 
 
 

 

 

TITOV OBAVESTAJAC BY SLOBODAN VON PIVA
 
 
 

 

 

 

 

 CONFESSIONS OF A DISGRUNTLED SPY 
 
 BY DR.SLOBODAN VON PIVA
 

 

Confessions of a Disgruntled Spy

 

Slobodan Mitric

 

Introduction by the editor Robert J. Kelder

 

This short novel was first published in the London based Yugoslavian magazine NASA REC (Our Word) as a feuilleton in ten monthly instalments between August/September 1978 (Vol. XXXI, Nr. 297) and June 1979 (Vol. XXXII, Nr. 306) under the heading ARTS AND CULTURE PROGRAM. It appeared, however, not under the name of the real author  Slobodan Mitric, who at that time was still held in confinement in The Hague for his role in the Vlado Dapcevic case as described at the end of this novella, but under a pseudonym Zoran Jovanovic. Mitric was namely advised by Desimir Tosic, the publisher of NASA REC and the Dutch authorities to adopt this pseudonym in order to facilitate the granting of a residence status to him in The Netherlands. This Zoran Jovanovic  subsequently appeared to be a real person, namely a co-worker of the magazine NASA REC, who later even rose to political prominence in Yugoslavia partly based on his false claim to being the author of this short novel.  In 1981, it was translated into Dutch and as such provided the basis for Mitric’s book GEHEIM-AGENT VAN TITO (Tito’s Secret agent), first published in a circulation of 5000 copies by “Karate Europa” Publishing Co. and reprinted (10.000 copies) in 1982. The promises by the Dutch authorities to grant him a residence status in this country, however, did not materialize in the end, and Mitric was reduced to eke out a meagre existence for himself and his partner/wife below the welfare minimum as an undesirable alien. A Dutch court order in 1986 forbade his extradition to the then Yugoslavia for fear that he would be put to death for high treason, a situation which, contrary to what the Dutch government claims, has not changed since.

Only lately (on October 16, 2008)  Mitric was informed to his great surprise and anger that his short novel was republished in 21 instalments between April 14 and May 10, 2004 in the national (at that time still)  Yugoslavian newspaper DANAS and again under the same pseudonym Zoran Jovanovic! This at a time when, as mentioned, he was reduced to earn his livelihood for himself and his ailing wife by collecting scrap iron on the streets of Amsterdam! Had he been given the financial remuneration, his wife who died due to lack of proper medical attention and even foul play, might still have been alive!

Now, one may indeed ask, who are Desimir Tosic and Zoran Jovanovic? This is what Mitric wrote and emailed in the original Serbian and in an English translation in January 2007 to answer this question:

 

Who are Desimir Tosic and Zoran Jovanovic?

 

Desimir Tosic said that he was born in 1920 in Bela Palanka and that he [in World War II] was held as a German prisoner. It is true that he emigrated to Paris, that he studied there at the faculty of economy and law and that he used a pseudonym – he was editor-in-chief of NASA REC (Our Word) in London [the leading journal of the Yugoslav Diaspora]. His real surname is not Tosic. Desimir and his brother claimed that they changed their surname when they immigrated, and that they named themselves after the name of their father Tose and that their surname was Tosic.

In the mid seventies, he had a meeting with a chief from the [Yugoslav] state security service UDBA from Novi Sad, who lived at that time in Switzerland. After that meeting, articles taken from the novel “Tito’s Secret Agent” appeared in NASA REC, signed by Zoran Jovanovic as the “author”; after a year that part of the book “Tito’s Secret Agent” was printed separately. The Yugoslav public remain unaware of who the real author of the novel is. Desimir Tosic and the fake author Zoran Jovanovic are still hiding the truth from the Yugoslav and especially Serbian public - as well as a snake hides its legs! We [hereby] inform all the deceived readers of NASA REC that the real author of the novel “Tito’s Spy” published in NASA REC is Slobodan Pivljanin [Mitric] , the Serbian artist-poet-writer and leader of the DPS (Democratic Party of Serbia) - whose [political] program was also stolen by the same gentlemen, who named it the so-called Democratic Party of Serbia.

 

For all information write to: slobodan-radojev-mitric@hotmail.com

 

Desimir has since then died. The present fate and position of Zoran Jovanovic is not known. May the dramatic background to this story finally become known in Serbia and abroad and may the real author finally achieve the status as a writer he deserves, accompanied by the financial rewards that he is equally entitled to!

 

 

* * * * * * *

 

I - Enrolment in the Yugoslav Secret Service

 

It was springtime. Everything was teeming with life and clouds were flying overhead!

                I was stationed as a soldier at that time at Slavonska Pozega.

                For the first three months, life was normal and easy-going.

                One day our whole detachment was ordered to line up in front of the army barracks and to empty our pockets and give away everything we had with us at that moment! We did not dare protest, although everybody knew what this farce was about.

                We got all our personal belongings back, except our pens. Previously, every one of us had to sign their name with their own pen!

                After this weird search, the soldiers said that there were spies among us. They also said that Nazi symbols had been smeared in the toilets and on the walls of the barracks – and that anything was bound to happen. We didn’t know what to expect. My friends and I were scared to death; we were very young, none of us was more than twenty years old. I was only nineteen.  I had just started shaving myself for the first time that year. The fear of the spies caused wrinkles in my young face. I was more afraid of spies than death!

                It was only two days after the ceremony with the pens that they started searching and hearing us again. Three of my friends, Zorz, Bokan and Misa had escaped from the army barracks. A general alarm was sounded and we all received our gear for a full-scale war. The soldiers were talking among themselves that my friends were spies underway to the Austrian border and that the Secret Service was pursuing them.

                Other news was circulating among us, for example, that there were mines planted and that the army barracks could any moment be blown up! That panic was stopped by the rough voice of our battalion commander Major Djura. He ordered us in an angry and very loud voice to return to our barracks immediately, because the escaped soldiers had been caught.

                I knew those three men from the time that we were still in Belgrade. We played together as kids, so I couldn’t understand why they were considered spies! Now I had formed a completely new image of spies – a spy could be just anybody.

                The next day, before lining up for military training, the corporal ordered me to report to Major Djura, the battalion commander.

                Standing in position of him and sweating, I looked like a burning candle dripping with wax.

                Major Djura was accompanied by a high-ranking captain. They were talking about something as if I did not exist and paid absolutely no attention to me. I started trembling, for ten minutes had already gone by since I entered their office. Then I stood still and said, “Zoran Jovanovic, soldier of the third battalion, first detachment and third unit, at your service, Comrade Major.”

                Since Major Djura did not say ‘dismissed’, I kept standing in the position of the ‘burning candle’, eagerly waiting for that command, but the minutes turned into hours! Finally, the liaison captain looked at me and, faking surprise, shouted loudly as if I were a hundred year old deaf man, “Comrade Zoran, dismissed!”

                After bellowing that, he smiled at me cordially, as if we were trueborn brothers!                The captain was almost two meters tall. His whole appearance was that of a true soldier; his voice and his face were strong as stone. I felt scared most of all when the slim captain shook hands with me. ”I’m Captain Zarko. I sent for you, Zoran, to help me with a very important matter.”

                I couldn’t believe what I heard. Confused, I held his hand in mine while he looked deeply into my eyes and smiled at me. “I just telephoned your father. He sends you his kind regards. He said that he believes you will uphold the honor of your family.”

                Listening to these words confused me even more. His whole behavior baffled me, especially when he said that he had called my father! Fear overwhelmed me! I felt something important was happening. I was afraid someone had told them that it was I who had drawn those swastikas. I almost started crying and begged him to believe me that I hadn’t done it, when Zarko’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “Comrade Zoran, please sit down.”

                Zarko pointed to a beautifully designed sofa in the corner of the room, took out a cigarette case and handed it to me. “Have a cigarette, comrade Zoran.”

                “No thanks, I don’t smoke,” I muttered. I refused the cigarette and could hardly utter a word. Something was choking me and taking my breath away. Sweat was dripping from my face down my shivering chest.

                “How nice that you don’t smoke. I’d be happy, if I could stop. And, do you drink alcohol?”

                “No,” I said. “I don’t smoke or drink any alcohol.”

                “You’re really a tough guy!” He smiled at me and winked at Major Djura, who was blinking all the time and wiping the sweat of his forehead.

                “I heard you train karate,” said Captain Zarko, now with a new, more flattering and provocative tone of voice.

                “Yes.”

                “That means you can break a brick with your bare hands.”

                “No,” I answered a little more bravely. I was sorry that everyone considered a karate man to be some sort of brick-breaker or bricklayer! Karate is as an art closely related to Zen philosophy. The aim of karate training is to use the stunted, potential energy in the human body. Only ignoramuses connect karate with brick breaking!

                “So, you cannot break a brick. Then you are a bad karate man,” said captain Zarko, sneering cheerfully from a pleasure only known to him. The whole scene began to disgust me and out of some kind of obstinacy caused by the captain’s teasing, I insisted that I couldn’t do it, although the truth was that I could break even two bricks. Breaking bricks is only one part of karate called tamashivari.

                        “Can you break a tile then?” Captain Zarko persisted in his interrogation.

                “No, not even a tile,” I replied in a tone of voice that sounded even strange to me.

                “What sort karate belt do you have?” the captain asked in a wicked tone of voice.

                “A black belt,” I said.

                “Black, come on! You mean to say you’re a karate master!”

                “Yes,” I said. But this previously nice captain had now become as boring and stupid as an ox to me, and so I said ironically, “A real master and not a bricklayer.”

                “Yeah, yeah. Never mind. I didn’t call you because of karate, but to answer some questions.”

                Major Djura got up from his chair and started walking up and down his office. He was always strict and spoke little, but the things he did say were always thoughtful. During the war he had been a battalion commander with the famous Dalmatian brigade. He survived the war and was awarded many medals of honor. He was as tall as a highlander and thin as a match. His eyes glittered like owl’s eyes; you couldn’t reach inside them to know what he was up to. The major suddenly opened the door and left, leaving Captain Zarko and myself alone.  The captain cleared his throat and after having offered me a cigarette again, which I refused again, started talking peacefully and with a certain kind of dignity.

                “You, Zoran, come from a good family.  I know your father personally and when I see you I see him. Thus I expect you to be honest and answer all my questions without any fear that somebody will find out about it. You know what’s been happening these days in your battalion. I believe there are many things that I don’t know that you want to tell me about. That is why I called you, so that we can help each other like two honest and friendly human beings. First of all, tell me how long have you known these three men, Zorz, Bokan and Misa?”

                I felt his piercing gaze and could hardly gather the strength to answer his question. I think about a year, maybe more. But I knew them as neighbors. We’re now more like companions here.”

                “What were you talking about when you were last together? Were you planning to escape to Austria together?”

                “Who was making plans?” I asked instead of answering, although I knew full well that we had been making plans; but it was nothing more than youthful haughtiness. I thought that Zorz was the first to mention something about escaping to Austria. But afterwards, we forgot all about that alleged escape plan. One thing was bothering me. Who was the person that had leaked everything to Captain Zarko?

                “So you don’t know anything about that?” inquired the captain.

                “Of course I don’t,” I said convincingly.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               

                “Okay, then I’ll help you.”

                Captain Zarko lit a cigarette, started pacing up and down the room and quietly started telling his story. “I am very sorry, Zoran, that you’ve gotten into this mess. But I hope that when you’ve listened to me you, you will be honest and confess everything. You know very well what it means to prepare to escape out of the country. That is called desertion, a case for which a man can be court-martialled with little mercy. Of course, such an unpleasant thing can be avoided, but a man needs to be honest. I know you’re young, but still, this is the army and that is no joke. Secondly, you messed things up before you enlisted in the army. You will have to appear in Court, because of those burglaries you committed last year. Imagine what the judge will think when we send him our recommendations! You’ll no doubt be sentenced to prison for a long time. I talked to your father about all this. He’s asking you not to embarrass him any more. And, Zoran, you know full well that your father is a very honest man and that it’s not right that, as an old man, he has to suffer because of you. I think you’re not doing the right thing. But still, I promise to help you with everything, just be honest. And then we will try to forget all about your burglaries. Now tell me, who drew those swastikas in your battalion?”

                “I don’t know.”

                “You don’t know or are you afraid that those guys will beat you up afterwards?”

                “No, that’s not it, I really don’t know anything.”

                “Okay, Zoran then we have nothing more to talk about. Go back to your unit, and if by any chance you change your mind, tell the soldier on duty that you want to see me. And now get out, march!”

                The next day Major Djura sent me to prison for seven days for having caused some kind of riot. I was put in the same prison cell with Zorz , Bokan and Mico. All three were tied in chains. Zorz’s head was bruised. He said that it was a ‘leftover’ from a conversation with Captain Zarko. We got fed at noon. I couldn’t eat. I was feeling sick and vomiting. At about three o’clock, the soldier on duty ordered me to go to Captain Zarko’s office. When I entered his office, Captain Zarko was smiling. “Okay then, Zoran, we have nothing to talk about.” I didn’t say a word and so the captain continued talking. “Olgica is scheduled to come here at five o’clock. I think you’re not going to be so stubborn as to force me to forbid you to see her. With only a little good will on your side, you can get permission to spend a whole twenty four hours with her in town.”

                When I heard him talking about Olgica my heart froze! Olgica was my fiancée. I loved her very much and I hadn’t seen her for three months. Suddenly Captain Zarko started to disgust me. Did he have to be so heartless and senseless? He knew very well that I loved Olgica and he chose her in order to make me talk. There were two forces struggling inside me: loyalty to a friend and love for my fiancée. The latter won. My character was too feeble to remain silent. I only succeeded in not revealing everything. I was looking for a way to gain more time.            “Okay,” I said, “let me go out with Olgica, and we’ll talk about everything later.”

                “On your word of honor?” Zarko asked me, smiling contentedly.

                “You have my word, and when I give my word, I intend to keep it.”

                “Okay, you have permission for a twenty four hour leave.”

 

II – Enrolment in the Yugoslav Secret Service

                         

The day off with Olgica passed very quickly. I accompanied her to the station and then went back to the army barracks. Captain Zarko called me into his office immediately. I remember that it was a Thursday. Although it was in the month of May, the days were not sunny. The sun probably has a great influence on people. On that cloudy day, I felt as if heaven was crying for me, crying, because I sold my soul to heartless people!

                “So, did you have a good time, Zoran?” Captain Zarko asked me, uttering my name so warmly and softly that one would have thought it was coming from the heart. But I knew Zarko had no heart anymore and that all those nice words were coming from his lungs, where his soul used to be before being sold to the devil a long time ago in the same way I sold mine that day.

                “I had a good time, comrade Captain Zarko,” I answered with the same tone of voice. A voice that only wicked hyenas understood and that was only known to wolves disguised as lambs.

                “We must go and visit a comrade from the Secret Service. Secondly, you have received a summons to appear before the Belgrade district court. They have to either charge you or set you free within two days. You must keep that in mind. Our help depends on what you do today.”

                I didn’t utter a word. I felt disgusted by this apparently nice officer. I couldn’t believe that man to be so evil and still look so naïve! No longer able to restrain myself, I said impudently, So, you want to make a squealer out of me?”

                Captain Zarko placed his hand on my shoulder and patted me in a rather friendly manner. “Nobody is forcing you, Zoran, to say anything. That must be clear to you. We know something, but you must be honest with us and tell us what we don’t know. For example, which one of you four guys drew those swastikas?”

                Although I had expected that question, I became very afraid upon hearing it. I felt as if I were a suspect. I knew who had drawn those swastikas, but I also knew that they were drawn as a sign of a youthful rebellion. My friend hated Germans and swastikas more than Captain Zarko did. He drew them, because he liked to brag and to show that he was not afraid of anything. Since I could send him to prison with my confession, I decided not to mention his name and to bury it as a secret deep inside of me. But my resolve didn’t last long. As soon as Captain Zarko began mentioning attractive prospects, such as becoming an important person, a prospect out of reach for most people, I started talking as if I were the biggest gossipmonger alive!

                “Imagine, Zoran what great help you could be to your country. I am strongly convinced that you were born to be a secret agent.”

                He looked at me with admiration as if I really deserved that. I was weakened and influenced by his flattery.

                “For example, you could become a member of our Secret Service in a couple of months. I am convinced that you could become a miracle of a man…”

                We interrupted our conversation, because of the appointment we had at the Secret Service headquarters in the military base where I was stationed during my service.

                The Secret Service headquarters surprised me; it was in the ambulance station of the army barracks with a temporary hospital on the first floor! There were waiting rooms and offices for the medical staff on the ground floor. The Secret Service headquarters were situated on the top floor with no signs of its existence anywhere so as to avoid arousing any interest!

                We entered the office of the officer in charge. I stood straight and as a soldier saluted a major, who was about forty years old. His hair had already turned grey; he seemed somehow strange. His behaviour was so polite and friendly that I really enjoyed listening to him.

                “Hello, young man!”  He shook hands with me, while I looked at him without saying a word. I had gotten used to uniforms from the time I was born. My father was also a police officer. Wherever we lived, my father’s friends were always military or police officers. I knew many officers, but having become a soldier, I understood that you cannot be honest with them. In my relationship with those men, I always used the clear and concise words ‘I understand’, whether I understood something or not, didn’t matter. And now, since I had gotten in trouble because of my friends, I couldn’t understand the sudden change of attitude and behaviour on the part of those strict and stern officers! Zarko recently allowed me to be with him on a first name basis, and this Major, whom I saw for the first time, started joking with me as if we were old friends, even though I had been in these barracks here for only three months!

                “How are you getting on with your karate? You must be a tough guy? I’ve heard a lot about you. But now that I see you, I wouldn’t say you’re that dangerous. They probably praised you more than you deserve. What do you say? Am I right, tough guy?”               

                He patted me on the shoulder. Zarko had started patting me on the shoulder the day before, which I didn’t like at all. I was afraid of such excessive friendship.

                “Well, young man, tell me how do you like it here?”

                I looked at the décor of the Secret Service headquarters. The walls were covered with all sorts of maps. I only recognized a map of Yugoslavia.

                “Do you want a cup of coffee?” the Major asked.

                His secretary, a short twenty year old brunette, smiling cordially, put three cups of Turkish coffee in front of us.

                “Who drew those swastikas? Come on, tell us so that we can finish this story for good. It’s not all that important thing for us, but still, let’s get it over with.”

                I didn’t know how it happened, but before I could even hear my own voice, I said, “Miso.”

                “Okay, Zoran. You will go back to prison again and try to find out why Zorz is pretending to be a lunatic. Just be careful that they don’t discover that we made a deal here and that there is a Secret Service headquarters up here. You will go to Belgrade the day after tomorrow. You will be sentenced there, but that doesn’t mean that you’ll have to go to prison.”

                We talked for a long time. He interrogated me on all sorts of things, while I spoke as if I were drugged. In fact, I was drugged, but with a strange sort of spying drug. Suddenly I felt an irresistible urge to spy. I couldn’t believe the enormous strength that gave me and that in such a short time I had become a talented regime spy!

                That day I became the happiest man in the world. I whispered to myself: “Zoran Jovanovic: secret agent!” I imagined myself as a dignitary. I saw other people admiring and revering me as I stood before them with lots of medals pinned on my chest, shining bright like a New Year’s tree and an example for others!

                I felt enormously happiness and pride. I used to read much about spies and had been afraid of them, but now I was so happy to become a spy myself, of whom many people would be afraid. I was only nineteen years old, but felt as if I were the most powerful man in the world!

                As a trueborn optimist I felt as if I finally had a chance to become an important person. I only had to throw away my honesty, my character and to lose my soul, and success would be guaranteed. I couldn’t anticipate what my real future would be.

                Almost a week passed by since coming back from Belgrade. I was sentenced to 18 months and ordered to go to prison there after finishing my military service. When I told Zarko and major Djoka that, they only laughed. Major Djoka told me, “Don’t worry. I’ve already arranged a conditional sentence for you.”

                The next day Captain Zarko informed me that I would be dismissed from the army as a fully disabled person. After that, I returned to Belgrade for good. My mother was very worried, because I had allegedly been dismissed from the army, because of severe heart problems. My father was the only person who really knew why I had left the army. He told me it was good that I had finally come to my senses by choosing the path that leads to the common good. He was proud of the fact that I had become a secret agent and believed that I would never again embarrass him.

                Captain Zarko was also transferred to Belgrade, where we met everyday. After ten days, I met an elderly man whose name was Mico. He lived near the building in which I lived. Mico arranged with the captain to teach me various skills, such as how to use weapons. We often went to a military field in Batajnica to practice shooting with all kinds of weapons, until we became completely exhausted. I was quite a good marksman, capable of hitting a target in the head from a distance of fifty meters. Mico always advised me to aim for the head. “Nobody has a chance to survive that,” he said, smiling like Dracula from the horror movies. Mico was nearly fifty years old. He always wore dark glasses, so that I was never able to see his eyes! In his three room apartment in New Belgrade he had installed many spy training devices. I learned how to counterfeit different kinds of seals and to forge passports and many other documents. I learned how to install hardly visible wiretapping devices and how to take and develop photos myself.

                I continued doing karate in a sports club called Partizan. I was in excellent shape. Then, Mico started teaching me other deadly skills. We worked for three months on so-called suicides. I studied various books, mostly criminological textbooks about the work of the public service, of the different police forces in the world, methods of prosecution, investigation and seizure of criminals. Mico constantly repeated how very important it was to learn all these things, before being sent to the West or the East.

                One day in his apartment he became very serious, more then he usually was, and addressed me with dignity.  “Zoran, you’re still very young. Some of my friends have told me that you’re ready to take on a most difficult task. I tried to convince them that you’re still too young and inexperienced for serious tasks and that it would be best to wait a couple of years until you have gained enough experience. Otherwise, you could easily be caught by the enemy and then everything would fail. I’m thinking about your life as well.”

                “Don’t you feel sorry for me,” I yelled angrily, almost punching him with my fist. I couldn’t believe him to be such a bastard. He pretended to be my friend, but still considered me a youngster!

                “Calm down. Zoran, don’t be angry with me. I finally agreed that they send you on a mission to France. It’s the beginning of August now. You will go there in a month. I will make a passport for you today with a French tourist visa for ten days. When you arrive in Paris, you can easily extend your visa there.”

                I started screaming from happiness and couldn’t get myself together for a long time. I could already sniff the scent of the Seine and enjoy the charms of the Eiffel Tower…

                My joy was interrupted by Mico’s words, which really struck me. That day I learned that happiness has its price. Mico’s words brought me back to reality.

                “In order to go to Paris, you must totally forget one person. It is necessary that this person no longer finds a place in your heart. The only love you will feel in the future is the love for your service. Your work will help our country a great deal. So, Zoran, from now on, Olgica is dead and gone for you. You simply have to put her out of your mind, otherwise the mission will fail.”

                I felt as if this wasn’t real, but somehow managed to stay calm.

                Mico made cup of coffee for me. “Coffee will help you calm down and concentrate. You’re expecting a big assignment. Maybe, your entire future depends on that assignment.”

                On that same day, I broke up with Olgica and concentrated myself completely on fulfilling the big task in Paris.

 

 

 

III – In the Hands of the ‘French Secret Service’

 

I travelled by train for forty-eight hours across Italy and Switzerland, finally arriving in the city of my dreams from my youth – Paris!

 That was my first trip abroad. I was really thrilled, but at the same time afraid that I wouldn’t be able to complete the assignment awaiting me in Paris. After getting off the train at the station Gare de Lyon, I hardly managed to find my way, although before leaving Belgrade I had learned some French.

All the way to Paris, I remembered the advice Mico had given me many times: when you get to an unknown place, start by looking around the station. He told me to remember the biggest and most visible buildings, monuments and bridges. And never to take a taxi right away.

                It was a sunny day. The train arrived in Paris at 10 o’clock on the dot. I shared my compartment with a student coming back from Lausanne. In that group, there was a pretty girl, a law student. She talked about Yugoslavia with great joy and said many wonderful things about the Adriatic coast, where she spent her vacation last year. She asked me why I was going to France. I lied to her that I was going to train karate with a Japanese master. I also told her that I had unfortunately lost his address on my way to Paris and that it would be difficult to find it.

 Her name was Lise. She cordially offered to help me in finding that address. She told me that her brother was also doing karate but only as a novice. She lived in Montparnasse. Now I found her even more beautiful. She was only twenty-one years old. I didn’t mind her being older than I was. We agreed to meet at 6 o’clock in the evening at Gare de Lyon. I spent almost all my time waiting for her at the station. I walked slowly to the Bastille and quickly went back to station again. I was afraid of getting lost.

 Lise arrived punctually at 6 o’clock, feeling happy and cheerful. She wore a mini skirt and looked irresistible! I couldn’t hide my admiration. She noticed that and was pleased. She asked me where I lived.

                “I haven’t found a place to stay yet. I have enough time for that.”

                “You’re crazy,” she said smiling, while I could feel her fingers move in my big fist. “You’re going to be my guest tonight,” she then said suddenly. “Would you like to come with me to my flat?

                “Why didn’t we do that this morning?” I asked naively.

                “We couldn’t this morning, because there was somebody I had to get rid of, but now the place is empty,” said Lise mischievously and lustfully.

                Although the street was full of people, I immediately grabbed and I kissed her. After a long trip by train, we finally got to her small apartment where we spent the whole night together. I was bursting with happiness and pleasure until the next day, when she told me in a most cool and collected way that I could no longer stay in her apartment, because it belonged her husband! I was quite disappointed by that, but it also made me come to my senses. We separated in a friendly way.

                It was high time to pay a visit to our embassy. I didn’t use the subway, because I was afraid to get lost. So I took a taxi and came to the Embassy very early, before nine o’clock. I drank a cup of tasteless coffee in a bar.

                At the embassy, I contacted the man that Mico told me about, a Montenegrin named Bozidar-Boza. He knew my father back from the war. He immediately gave me the address where I was supposed to find the apartment and the other address of the place where I had to ask for work as an electrician. After the conversation with Bozo, I went to Gare de Lyon to pick up my things from the locker and went to the address that I had gotten from Bozo. It was in fact a dormitory called Cité Universitaire. I stayed in the Italian pavilion. The room was very cheap; only seven franks a day. The food wasn’t expensive either.

                 During the first week of my stay there, I didn’t leave the dormitory and learned as much French as I could. I only went to the police station and extended my visa for another four months. I received a document from the police to which they attached my photograph. I paid 20 franks for it. It was easy to get a visitors visa in Paris at that time.

                The following week I waited for an unhappy Thursday to pass and then went to the address of the firm where I was supposed to find a job. I contacted a man from Novi Sad on Bozo’s recommendation and got a job right away.

                When still in Belgrade, Mico had told me to call Bozo every fourteen days and that when settled in Paris I would get an order from Bozo for the completion of the assignment for which I was sent to Paris.

                Time passed and I received no news from Mico. Soon I moved into the apartment of the man from Novi Sad. There were six of us living in a big room and sleeping in double beds.

                After a few days I was fired, because due to my mistake and lack of knowledge an aggregate exploded in flames.

                I immediately went to the embassy and told Bozo that I had been sacked. It didn’t bother him the least. He told me that he’d find me another job and that until then I was to go back to the pavilion at the Cité Universitaire again.

                During that whole week without a job, I visited museums and did some sightseeing in Paris. One day, I visited the Louvre where I felt pretty bored. I wondered why all the visitors were mobbing in awe in front of the Mona Lisa! I couldn’t understand what kind of fascination they saw in that painting! In my view, everything seemed artificial, silly and very stupid.

                 One day, about seven o’clock in the evening after parting from Bozo, I started walking to my apartment. It was getting dark and the street lights were not turned on yet. Suddenly two men appeared in front of me. They were about thirty years old. One of them reminded me of a Gestapo officer from the movies. They approached me and addressed me very cordially in French. “Good evening sir,” one of them with an extremely black moustache said to me.

                “Good evening,” I replied in French.

                “Please show us your ID,” said the other man, who wore glasses with a small diopter. He probably didn’t have to wear them at all. He wore them as a kind of mask.

                “We’re from the police.” He showed me his metal badge. I couldn’t read what was written on it, because it was getting dark, and all this surprised and confused me.

                “Oh, you are Yugoslav,” said the man with glasses.

                “Yes.”

                “Do you mind coming with us? We need to talk about something,” he said, taking me by the hand in a friendly manner.

                I muttered something as a sign of acceptance. What else I could do?

                All three of us got into their car, where I sat like a bride in between the two of them. I couldn’t make out the face of the driver. We were all silent. Many things were racing through my mind. I wondered what the police wanted from me. I knew I hadn’t done anything wrong yet in this country. I thought it to be some kind of mistake. Maybe they had already discovered that I was a spy. But I immediately rejected that thought as an impossibility.

                We drove in silence for a long time. Nobody uttered a word. Finally, the car stopped in front of a gate. I couldn’t make out an inscription ‘Police’ anywhere! A man in plain clothes opened the gate. That surprised me even more. We drove into a spacious backyard, where I noticed a big villa in front of me. We got out of the car and I started walking together with the man with the moustache. We went into the hall of the building, which looked more like a basement, because the room had no windows at all. It was an ordinary room and didn’t look at all like a police station. I saw that at once and became scared. The man with the moustache noticed it and told me not to be afraid. From all the fear and excitement, I forgot all the French words I had learned. I was even unable to ask for a glass of water in French, although I was very thirsty.

                They explained to me that they would ask for an interpreter.

 

 

IV – Passing the Supreme Test

 

After waiting an hour, the interpreter finally arrived. He was very kind. I wondered why he wore no glasses. He spoke with an accent as if he came from Zagreb. “My name is Branko. We are compatriots.” 

                “I’m glad,” I said ironically. “You’re probably an immigrant?”

                “Unfortunately not,” he said, smiling.

                “I don’t understand what you mean by ‘unfortunately’!”

                “Never mind. That word is probably of my own saying.”

                “Do you know where you are?” he asked without a smile on his face.

                “That’s what I would also like to know.”

                “You have been captured by the French Secret Service. That probably surprises you.”

                “Why does the Secret Service take such an interest in me!?” I asked. Now I felt overwhelmed by enormous fear. I couldn’t understand what was happening to me!

                The man with the moustache told the interpreter to ask me if I wanted something to drink.

                “I don’t want anything,” I said without waiting for Branko to translate my words.

                “Oh, you understand French very well.” The man with the moustache smiled falsely.

                “Not much,” I said insolently. “Ask them why I was arrested.”

                “Who said you’ve been arrested?” Branko translated the words of the man with the moustache.

                “These gentlemen only want to ask you a few questions. They know why you’ve come to Paris, but they can see that you’re too young for that. You’d be smart to cooperate with them.”

                “I don’t know what you mean by that!”

                “This gentleman wants to know why you were with consul Bozo in the Louvre today.” Branko translated every word with a sadistic accent that was driving me crazy.

                “Tell that gentleman to go to hell! How dare he! I don’t know any consul called Bozo and I’ve never been to the Louvre,” I said quickly and moved one step towards the man with the moustache with my fists clenched ready to punch him on his crooked nose. But at the same moment, I felt a sharp pain on my head and everything became blurred around me.

                When I woke up, I found myself tied to a chair. I had a splitting headache and felt a big bump on my head, but I couldn’t touch it. I noticed that the man with a moustache was no longer in the room. I only saw the interpreter and the man with the glasses.

                “This gentleman thinks you are a man with a strong temperament.” Branko translated everything that the man with the glasses said.

                “Ask the man if he has a beautiful wife,” I said angrily, hardly managing to restrain myself.

                “The gentleman is unfortunately not married.”

                “Is this word ‘unfortunately’ a saying of yours again?”

                “Unfortunately, it isn’t,” Branko said, starting to laugh like crazy!

                Although I felt strong pains in my head, I couldn’t resist laughing a little myself.

                “The gentleman apologizes for the position you’re in now. He knows it is causing you a lot of inconvenience, but if you’d be a little more cooperative that inconvenience could be eliminated.”

                “What exactly do you want from me?”

                “I don’t understand your stubbornness. If I were in your shoes, I’d confess everything. You’re still young. I feel sorry for you, and these people would be glad to help you.”

                “You tell the gentleman that I have nothing to say and that I don’t understand anything. I find this all very strange and funny.” I said that, although I knew that it was all to no avail.

                “The gentleman asks you when the last time was that you were with Mico?”

                This hit me like a thunderstorm! It took my breath away. At that moment I understood that they weren’t mistaken. But how, I wondered, did they get to know everything! I was surprised and confused by all this and I didn’t know what to say. I managed to gather some strength and I responded calmly.

                “Mico, who?” I asked, still wondering about it.

                “Mico, who introduced you to Captain Zarko in Belgrade.”

                “The gentleman must be crazy to ask me such stupid questions about men I’ve never seen or heard about in my whole life.”

                I trembled, because I was very tense. I was extremely angry, because I was wholly unprepared for this situation. I now understood that they knew everything. But how did they know all this, who had told them everything? I decided to keep my mouth shut, even if they wanted to take my worthless life.

                “The gentleman wants you to answer the question he asked you.”

                The man with the glasses drew closer to me, waiting for my response.

                “I don’t understand anything, please stop molesting me and leave me alone.”

                I begged in vain. I felt afraid and an inexplicable hatred towards these people. If I could only set myself free, I would kill them like dogs. I was desperate and felt weak for falling so stupidly into the enemy’s hands at the very beginning of my spy carrier. I tried comforting myself that my conscience was clear. I wasn’t guilty. Some of the men who had sent me to France must have been traitors. If I could somehow set myself free, I would go back to my country, inform the authorities about everything and stop that traitor from doing his dirty job. I believed they would kill me here for refusing to talk and decided to remain silent.

                They started slapping me and punching me with their fists. Even the interpreter was hitting me. I screamed in pain. I swore that I didn’t know anything, that they were most certainly wrong and that they had mistaken me for someone else. It made no difference. I felt totally weak and utterly lost.

                After they got tired of hitting me, they both went out and turned off the light. It was dark as hell. I remained tied to the chair in the dark for what seemed an eternity! I was pondering for hours about the whole situation and my thoughts became more and more confused. I had to urinate. I couldn’t hold it back anymore. I didn’t know that urine could smell so bad!

                All of a sudden the light bulb flashed on in the room. It shocked me and I suddenly started trembling. My head was swollen like a globe. I wanted to die, but it was impossible to end my suffering or stop the pleasure of my torturers, who didn’t appear although the light was on. I heard voices behind the door and recognized the voice of the man with glasses. He mumbled something in French, but I couldn’t understand anything. I felt that it wasn’t going to do me any good.

                Suddenly, the door opened and the three torturers entered the room. The man with the moustache was wearing a white overcoat!  He looked like Dracula. He approached and slapped me. The interpreter gave me a sign to keep quiet, because I had started crying like a dog. The blood had dried in my nose, but now started flowing again. I prayed to God that I would bleed to death and He in that way could put an end to my suffering.

                Branko, the interpreter was talking quietly to the man with glasses, who showed me Mico’s photograph! “The gentleman asks, if you’re still so stupid in persisting that you don’t know this man.”

                “No, I’ve never seen that photograph.”

                The photograph was taken in the garden of a restaurant or. But where and when I didn’t know!

                I was at a loss for words. I realized that everything was useless, but was resolved not to confess anything.

                “I don’t know this gentleman. Maybe we once sat at the same table, but I don’t remember that.  There’re plenty of cases of people sitting together in the same café at the same table, who don’t know each other.”

                I knew this response wasn’t going to be of much help either, but decided to persist. I didn’t want to succumb to the attacks of those torturers, who thought they could do whatever they pleased.

                “So, that’s it,” Branko said. “You’re not only stupid, but also stubborn as a mule. But we have ways to make you talk. You’d better confess everything willingly, because in the end you will have to confess everything anyway.”

                Now, even Branko began interrogating me. He wasn’t an interpreter anymore.

                “Fuck you Ustasha! Who do you think I am, you bastard…” I stopped talking at that point, because they hit me badly on my head and in my stomach. It felt so painful that I started yelling and screaming.

                “This man is crazy,” I heard the man with the moustache comment.

                Branko pulled a little knife out of his pocket and started waving it around my neck. “You communist bastard! Start talking now or I’ll cut your throat.”

                He stabbed me with his knife in my left leg. I felt a weak pain and the wound started bleeding.

                “You miserable son of a bitch,” yelled the man with the moustache. He pulled out his gun and pointed it at my temple. “Start talking or I’ll blow your stupid brains out!”

                I spat on his face. Dried blood colored it completely red. He stepped back and pulled the trigger. I heard a loud shot and instinctively drew my head back. I heard more shots. I twisted in the overturned chair. I was aware that the gun was pointed at me, but felt no pain! I thought I was dead already and that only my spirit was thinking now. The pain in my bleeding left leg woke me up from these thoughts.

                 I heard the door open, loud laughter and familiar voices. They were all speaking Serbo-Croatian! I recognized one of the voices: it was the voice of my teacher Mico! A terrible thought struck me: Was it possible that Mico was a traitor!

                “Congratulations, Zoran. You really are a tough guy!”

                They cut the ropes on my hands. Now they were all happy and laughing. I couldn’t pull myself together for a long time. Mico was the only one who remained in the room. He comforted me. “It’s all right now. You’ve completed your task excellently. Now you need to go back to Yugoslavia where we will agree to everything. You must completely forget what you went through here. Be happy, because from now on nobody will have any doubts about you. Today you have passed the supreme test.”

                Everything around me seemed strangely unreal. The pains were disappearing quickly. I was happy to be alive. At that moment, I understood that it had been a test of my loyalty and resolve. Now I realized why I was sent to Paris. I became immensely proud of myself and boldly looked forward to my future, a future as a famous spy!

 

V – Preparing for a Trip to Romania

 

After having ‘passed’ the test in Paris with flying colors, I immediately returned to Belgrade. Mico arranged to have lunch with me in his apartment. We talked about everything that happened in Paris and both parted satisfied, because everything had ended so beautifully.

                A few days after our lunch, Mico started teaching me different skills on a daily basis. He talked about various groups working against Yugoslavia and its people. For the first time I heard there were even groups inside the communist party with an unfriendly attitude towards ‘our nation’. He explained to me who the Chetnicks (followers of Tito’s opponent General Mihailovic) and the Ustashas (extreme Croatian nationalists) were. Finally, he explained that I would be working exclusively against ex-military people, admirers of Stalin, who had escaped in 1948 during the ‘Communist Information Bureau’ period and who had now formed into groups to organize a contra-revolution in Yugoslavia. He also told me that the Chinese were helping those expatriates!

                My first task would be to go to Romania, but he didn’t know when that would be.

                It was already December 1967 and Belgrade was preparing for the New Year celebrations. My mother was desperate, because I wasn’t doing anything and not coming home everyday. She begged me to find a job. I didn’t know what to say to her! I couldn’t explain my real position to her. My father knew what I was doing, but kept quiet even to my mum. All that time, I was getting decent pocket money from Mico.

                 I trained karate six hours a day. Often, I went with Mico to the Yugoslav National Army stadium and for a long time was a member of a club called Partizan. Everyday Mico showed me an album full of photographs, mostly of younger people, pointing out that all of them were smugglers – members of the Belgrade underworld!

                “Why don’t you arrest them?” I asked. I didn’t understand why such people were running around free!

                “It’s not our business to arrest criminals. We are a special service, and these people help us a lot in our work. You see this young man here?” He showed me a photograph of a young man. “His name is Tesa. He’s studying law, but also does dirty jobs. Try to make friends with him. Do it gradually and don’t be too obvious. You have enough time. The other man is Paja, who is a little older than Tesa. He’s an engineer. Officially, he works in a Belgrade wholesale and retail trading company not far from Vuk’s monument. You’ll meet him later. But you shouldn’t meet him on your own initiative. Try to be in Tesa’s company, until Paja notices you. You must give the impression of a naïve and trustworthy young man. Paja is also in the smuggling business and often travels to Italy and Romania. If you succeed in becoming his friend and gain his confidence, you will know that it is all right. Just be careful. He’s a very intelligent and interesting person; always try to keep that in mind. I will take you to a restaurant tonight where they usually meet. You’ll have to go there more often in the future and, as I explained to you, do your best to have them notice you, so that in time they become friends with you. Do you understand what is required of you?”

                “Yes I have,” I replied, although the game wasn’t completely clear to me! I trusted Mico absolutely and believed that when he did something, it had to succeed. I was curious and couldn’t wait to meet these guys. In the evening, we went to a modern restaurant called Bezistan. I noticed some persons there from Mico’s album. Mico was more than satisfied when I recognized the faces in the restaurant of the persons from his album! Obviously pleased with his and my success, he told me that I was bound to become a great spy!

                I met Tesa immediately after New Year, but he soon went to his family in Sarajevo. Upon his return to Belgrade, I went immediately to restaurant Bezistan, after completing my karate training. As soon as Tesa saw me, he greeted me. “Hello, karate man.”

                “Would you like a drink?” he asked cheerfully.

                “Milk, please”

                “Milk you drink at home, this is a café!” He was slightly drunk and started patting me friendly on my shoulder. At that moment he cheerfully addressed a man entering the restaurant. ”Paja, come and knock out this karate man!”

                Paja came slowly to the table, greeted everybody politely and kissed Tesa. We sat together for an hour. That evening I also met a young man, who worked as a gym teacher in Sweden; his nickname was Ringo. Paja was interested in karate and said that even though he knew little about that sport, he wasn’t afraid of any karate man in Yugoslavia. “I can beat any karate man like a cat, although I don’t know the first thing about karate,” Paja boasted, seriously.

                “I hope you won’t beat me too. We’re already friends.”

                While they were all laughing, Paja continued, “Of course I won’t beat you, but I will surely beat Jorge.”

                “Then I’ll introduce you to Jorge so you can try your luck.”

                I continued talking, knowing full well that Paja was only joking. Paja was physically too feeble to fight even the weakest young man, let alone beat Jorge, the karate champion of Yugoslavia.

                After this joke, we all became somehow more intimate. I liked Paja as a man. He was cheerful and a true gentleman. Everyone wanted to become his friend.

                It was my first encounter with Paja. We often met each other after that encounter and in time became close friends. I always kept Mico’s advice in mind. Paja quickly gained confidence in me. He could see that I spoke little, that I was firm and didn’t stick my nose into other people’s business.

                Soon I started selling watches and rings with Tosa. That was merchandise that Paja gave to Tosa. Soon I became a master smuggler myself! Many people asked me to work with them. I refused on the advice of Mico any other collaboration than with Tose and Paja,

                One day in the beginning of March, Paja asked to speak with me in private. He took me to a little restaurant where he regularly had dinner. As soon as we sat at a table, he addressed me in quiet and serious tone of voice. “Zoran, I like you as a man. How would you like to do some more serious jobs with me?”

                Although he looked down on me, I felt that he trusted me. “All right, but may I know what kind of business we’re talking about?” I asked, trying hard to appear disinterested.

                “Do you have a passport?”

                “Yes, I do. I got one last year in Paris.”

                “You’ve already been abroad?” Paja asked me with cheerful curiosity.

                “Yes, I went to a karate seminar for about three months.”

                “Who do you know in Paris?” he asked suddenly.

                “No Yugoslavs. I spent my time with Frenchmen.”

                “Do you know any emigrants?”

                “Not one, I avoided them. They only talk about politics.”

                “You’re right, Zoran. I’ve been travelling abroad for years, but don’t do politics. My only politics is to earn money. That’s all I’m interested in. I’ve planned an excellent job this time. If you’re interested, you can get rich quickly.”

                “Okay. What’s it about?”

                I was very impatient to find out as soon as possible something about that job, but tried my best not to show it.

                “I have to tell you, this job is a bit dangerous. But, if you’re smart you can avoid any danger. We need to transport about a hundred wind jackets in Romania. We can sell them there at the price of 300 lei a piece. It is true the leu isn’t worth much in Yugoslavia, but it’s more valuable than the dinar in Romania. With these lei we get from selling wind jackets, we’ll buy with the help of my Jewish friend about thirty fine Orthodox icons. Icons are sold for a good price in the West and in that way you can make a lot of money. I promise you that you’ll earn three million dinars from one successful haul.”

                I almost accepted that attractive offer, but remembering the advice from Mico to be extremely cautious and careful, restrained myself. “Sounds great, but I’m afraid that the police might catch us.”

                “There is a risk. But, if we’re careful there is no danger.”

                “Okay. I’ll think about it and tell you next time whether I accept your offer.”

                “You mustn’t tell anyone about this. Not even to Tesa, no one. Think it about until tomorrow , then let me know and come here at about this time. If you accept, we can leave immediately and buy the merchandize in Trieste on Sunday and then go on to Romania.”

                I parted from Paja at about two o’clock. I immediately telephoned Mico and said that I would meet him at his place. There, I told him everything about Paja’s offer. Mico was more than satisfied. “Go over there tomorrow and meet Paja at the same time. Accept everything, but keep saying that you’re afraid of the police. Tell him you’ll accept the job, because you trust him and that you wouldn’t accept going on the same adventure with anyone else but him.”

                “But Paja is, as far as I’m concerned, only a common smuggler!”

                “No. Paja is no ordinary smuggler. You’ll find that out for yourself very soon. But the important thing for now is that he has bitten our bait and time will do the rest. I must tell you Zoran, you’re making good progress and I hope that lady luck will accompany you in the future.”

                Mico gave me a long lecture that day. He said he knew many things about Paja, but also that it still wasn’t the proper time to tell me everything, because maybe then the whole thing would fail. “Remember Zoran, Paja must get the impression that you’re very naïve and that he is the one to always lead and teach you everything. That’s why you must be clever. Remember every word he tells you. Try to make him believe in you as much as you can.”

 

 

VI – The First Trips to Romania

 

My first trips to Romania with Paja went very smoothly. Paja had been there often on the same business, so the sale of the wind jackets and the purchase of the icons proceeded without too many difficulties. I was surprised by Paja’s skilfulness, but also learned the work of a smuggler myself very quickly. We returned to Belgrade with some twenty icons. I immediately submitted a full report to Mico. He couldn’t hide his satisfaction and readily praised me for doing this job so quickly and successfully! “Now, the fish is on the hook, but we must be careful that the hook doesn’t break, because the fish we caught is a very rare one. Because of that, my man, continue simply but safely with what you’re doing,“ Mico philosophized with a smile of satisfaction as never before!

                That same week, we brought the icons to Trieste. Paja gave me a million and a half dinars. I was delighted. Paja told me this was just a start and that there would be much more money to come, because he had found another channel in Bucharest with even more valuable icons.

                “Those are very old icons for which we can get a much bigger amount of money. But the person offering those icons wants to be paid only in gold. It is easier to transport gold than wind jackets,” Paja said like a true professional.

                Upon our return from Trieste to Belgrade, I immediately reported to Mico that we had gold coins and that we intended to go to Bucharest. Mico offered no objection, but advised me once more to be extremely cautious.

                We arrived in Bucharest at the beginning of April and booked a room in Hotel Ambassador. After resting up from the trip, we went down to the dining room to have lunch. Paja ordered soup and fish as he always did, while I ordered tartar beef. I loved half-roasted meat. It gave me great strength. I could easily devour three portions. I weighed some 85 kilos, but because of my karate training wasn’t fat at all.

                Paja started telling me about a Slobodan Glumac. “Today, at three o’clock we’re going to meet a Yugoslav emigrant in front of Hotel Lidohe said, eating his trout.

                “I don’t understand! The other day you told me that you had no contact with emigrants,” I said cunningly.

                “Yes, I told you so, but didn’t tell you the truth. Now that we know each other well, I think there is no longer any reason to hide who I am,” Paja said with a serious tone in his voice. He stopped eating his trout, which smelled good.

                “Is it some Chetnick or Ustasha?” I asked again cunningly, although I knew that Romania was a communist country and that there were no such emigrants. My intention was to give Paja the impression that I knew nothing about emigrant organizations.

                “No, he’s a member of the Information Bureau.”

                “Oh, is that so,” I wondered.

                “Yes, he’s a member of the Information Bureau. His name is Slobodan Glumac. I’m telling you all this, because you need to be very cautious when we meet him. While I talk to him, just keep quiet and make sure that nobody is observing us.”

                “Are you a member of the Information Bureau?” I asked suddenly. I firmly believed he was, and that that was why Mico was always telling me that Paja was a big fish and that, until he had bitten the hook completely, he needed to be dealt with carefully.

                “No, I am not a member of the Information Bureau,” Paja said, looking at me strangely and continuing to talk slowly with a solemn tone of voice. “Back in Yugoslavia, I will explain many things to you, but the time is not yet ripe for it. Try to do things the way I told you and everything will be fine.”

                “Are we supposed to get those icons from him?”

                “No, Zoran. This time we’ve come to Bucharest for politics.”

                “I don’t understand anything yet,” I said honestly.

                “There are lots of things you don’t understand yet and it’s better so. Don’t ask too many questions. Let me worry about everything.”

                “But Paja, I hope you’re not trying to get me involved in something against my country? If that is so, you should know that you’ve chosen the wrong person. For no amount of money would I betray my own country as members of the Information Bureau have done,” I said excitedly.

                “I told you not to be afraid. You don’t think I am the traitor to our country, do you? Paja said, looking at me like an enemy. I had never seen him so serious and angry!

                “That’s not what I meant!” I began, trying to justify myself. “I only want you to know what kind of person I am and what I think about those people who betrayed our country.” From the expression on his face, I saw that this calmed him down.

                Quietly he said, “Don’t be afraid. Zoran, I know a lot about you. I wouldn’t have taken you with me, without first having checked who you are and what kind of family you come from.”

                “Where did you check that?” I asked naively.

                “That’s none of your business now. I told you, I’ll explain everything when we get back to Yugoslavia. And now, pay for the lunch, because it’s already three o’clock.”

             When we arrived at Hotel Lido, a forty year old man was awaiting us. He seemed very afraid. He gave Paja a little parcel. “I must leave immediately. We could be seen here,” mourned the frightened man.

                Paja took him aside and they parted quickly.

                Paja gave me a sign to approach him and we went back to our hotel.

                “Who is that man?” I asked.

                “I already told you. Slobodan Glumac.”

                “Why is he so afraid?”

                “You ask too many questions,” Paja said kindly.

                We went to our hotel on foot and continued walking to the institute where, as Paja told me, a certain Dr. Slobodan Kovacevic worked. We also had to meet him.

                “This man is also called Slobodan?” I asked, curious.

                “Yes. As you can see, only a certain Slobodan today. And now shut up, because it is dangerous to speak our language loudly. We never know if we are being followed.”

                We went to the front entrance of that institute, but Dr. Kovacevic wasn’t waiting there for us!

                “Dr. Kovacevic is not here,” Paja said. “We must return to our hotel immediately. We mustn’t stay here any longer.”

                On the way back to the hotel again, I noticed a man standing alone in front of a bus station holding the newspaper Politika in his hand! “Paja, there is a Yugoslav,” I whispered.

                “What!” Paja stepped back as if he got burned. “How do you know he’s a Yugoslav?”

                “Because he’s holding Politika in his hands.” 

                “Oh, yes, wait a second, I’ll approach him.”

                Paja did so. The man holding Politika pretended to be surprised. I immediately saw that he was merely acting. I thought it was Dr. Kovacevic, but soon got a very different answer!

                The unknown man with the newspaper was about forty years of age. He looked like a sportsman with a very serious character. He introduced himself to me as Vidoje Vukoje. He was reluctant to come to our hotel, but agreed to sit with us in the garden of a little restaurant not far from the hotel. Vidoje told us how he escaped from Yugoslavia twenty years ago. He said that he first spent a few years in Moscow and that he was now working as an electrical engineer at an electric power plant here in Bucharest. Paja asked him if he knew Dr. Kovacevic. Vidoje said that he knew him very well. We parted in the dark after agreeing that Vukoje would come to our hotel at about 10 o’clock in the morning and that he would take us to his house.

                When we came to the hotel, Paja warned me to keep my eyes and ears wide open the next day, and to be very cautious, because we didn’t know what to expect!

                After dinner, we went to the hotel dancing hall where we met two young Romanian girls. One of them knew Serbian-Croatian very well. Soon we took the Romanian girls up to our rooms.

                The next day Vidoje showed up in time for breakfast. He was nicely dressed; he even wore a tie. We went to his apartment where he introduced us to his wife, an extremely beautiful Romanian woman, who worked as a nurse. They also had a daughter.

                Soon a Major came. He was also an emigrant. His name was Milan Zuban. Vidoje introduced us as his acquaintances. I noticed that Zuban was extremely interested in finding out who we were! We talked about this and that, until Zuban finally started mentioning Vlado Dapcevic, Mao Tse Tung in connection with a contra-revolution that was supposed to break out in Yugoslavia. This became the main topic of discussion. Zuban was talking fiercely about a large number of officers preparing to start the contra-revolution in Yugoslavia at a certain moment!

                There was great tension in Yugoslavia in those months, because of the events in Czechoslovakia. Zuban gave me several badges of Mao Tse Tung and asked me my opinion about Mao.

                “He’s a good man,” I said quickly, being unprepared for this sort of question.

                “Next time we meet, I will give you some of his quotations in our language for you to read and to give to friends when you get back to Yugoslavia,” Zuban said.

                “Very good. I’d really like to read the quotations of Mao Tse Tung,” I said, hoping to get them. Afterwards, I could brag about it to Mico and show him proof that I had gotten in touch with members of the Information Bureau.

                After the death of Stalin, the members of the Information Bureau moved away from the Soviet camp to adopt the Chinese party line. Vlado Dapcevic, an ex-colonel of the Yugoslav National Army, became the secretary of that new Communist party. Nobody knew where Vlado Dapcevic was. After he had left Peking, everyone lost track of him. Mico told me that they believed him to be in Romania and that he was a very important person. He added that that was why I had been so thoroughly trained, to jump on him, if I ever got the chance some day. I felt very excited, because after meeting Zuban, I believed that I would soon get meet Vlado Dapcevic as well, but that wasn’t to happen immediately.

                When we left Vidoje, it was already six o’clock in the morning. Paja told me that he would arrange a meeting with the man, who would bring us Russian icons. He gave me gold coins to take to Vidoje’s apartment and then told me to get back to the hotel immediately. He was afraid to keep the gold coins with him, because he mistrusted the Jew who had promised to bring the icons.

                I came back from Vidoje’s place at around midnight! Paja grew very angry and asked me what had kept me so long. With the voice a gangster, I said that while Vidoje was away from home, I had slept with his beautiful wife! Paja was dumbfounded! He started yelling and screaming and tried to convince me that my behaviour was extremely dangerous and could ruin all their plans and spoil their success. He added that I didn’t seem realize who these people were.

                “It’s true that I don’t know who these people are, but you should open your cards and tell me who the people playing this game are!” I said in one breath, looking at him very seriously.

                “We cannot talk about it here, Zoran. We are in the hotel and somebody can hear us. Now, take a shower and go to bed, because we must get a good night sleep and rest up for tomorrow,” Paja said quietly.

                The next day the Jew, whom we expected to bring the icons, brought the police instead! They checked all our things and documents, but couldn’t find anything! Paja said calmly that he didn’t know the Jew at all and that he also knew nothing about the gold coins and icons! The policemen had to leave us alone, but we knew that they would keep an eye on us. That was why we didn’t go to Vidoje’s place at once to collect the gold coins, but to a nearby café instead. Afterwards, we took a taxi to a lake where we spent a few hours, successfully avoiding the inquisitive looks of an inexperienced policeman, who was persistently trailing us. We agreed to part here and to meet again at the railway station in Temisvar and from there to return to Belgrade. I did exactly what Paja ordered me to do. Since I couldn’t find Paja at the Temisvar railway station, I went back to Belgrade alone, worried about what had happened to him!

                As soon as I arrived in Belgrade, I telephoned Mico. I went to his house and told him everything. Mico was very angry about the course of events. “I hope that fool didn’t fall into the hands of the police!”

                “I really don’t understand, uncle Mico! Paja is an ordinary conman, and you’re afraid of him falling into the hands of the police!”

                “I hope that lady luck is with us and that now, when everything is going so well, that fool won’t spoil everything.”

                I left Mico and went home. I wanted to go to bed; I was exhausted and needed to sleep. As soon as I got home, my father told me that a young man had called me on the phone and that the next day, without exception, I ought to come to restaurant Domovina. I knew that it was Paja and was glad that he hadn’t been arrested.

                The next day I went to the agreed place in restaurant Domovina. As soon as I came inside, I saw Paja sitting at the table reading the latest edition of Politika Express. I approached him.

                “A great misfortune befell us, Zoran,” Paja said, without explaining to me what had happened.

 

VII – A Rude Awakening

                         

The waiter brought me a cup of coffee. Drinking it slowly, I secretively glanced at Paja. He seemed very anxious. I suspected his anxiousness was just an act. Since starting to work as a spy, I had completely changed my attitude. I suspected everyone and hated everybody a little. I trusted nobody and thought that everybody lied. I only believed Mico. Mico was a legend to me, or better said, my God or devil, to whom I had sold my soul!

                “My boss was arrested today. Here, read this,” Paja said. He handed me a newspaper with an article describing how a police official named Pera Peric hit a pedestrian with his car on the highway from Belgrade to Novi Sad near Fruska Gora, and how he left the scene of the accident. An accidental passer-by remembered the license plate of the car and Pera Peric was arrested.

                “What a bastard! A policeman killing a pedestrian and then driving away!” I said angrily.

                “Zoran, he’s not a bastard. He’s a good man. But still, it happened and can cause us a lot of trouble now,” Paja said in serious and dejected tone of voice.

                “What’s our connection with that case?”

                “We have a lot to do with this case, because I told you, Peric is my boss.”

                “Whose boss?”

                “My boss. He was supposed to become your boss soon. I arranged everything for us to meet him together upon our return from Romania and now look what has happened.”

                “Paja, I don’t understand you at all. Please try to be clearer and explain to me what is happening here.”

                “I told you in Romania that once back in Belgrade I would explain who I am. I am not the criminal that you, and all those bastards you met, consider me to be. I’m a policeman,” Paja said, looking at me with his blue eyes shining in some strange way.

                “You, a policeman! What’s the matter with you today Paja, have you gone completely mad?”

                “I’m completely sane,” Paja said seriously. “I’m a policeman and not the smuggler you had the occasion to meet. I’m a police officer with the Secret Service called UDBA.”

                I already fancied how Mico would smile sweetly upon me telling him what this smuggler was fantasizing about.

                “Yes, I’m an UDBA official. I would never confess this to you if I hadn’t realized that you can help us. I noticed that Milan Zuban believes strongly in you, because you seemed naïve. Before I asked you to come with me to Romania, I informed myself about you. I discovered everything about you and your family and then with the permission of my boss, started working with you. I do this kind of work to give emigrants in Romania the impression that I am a smuggler so that they won’t suspect me. My boss, to whom I report, is from Zrenjanin. His name is Grkovic Obrad. I will introduce you to him this week. And the other one, who was arrested today, is my district boss. We still don’t know who our new boss will be. I will take you to my office today.”

                “To the police station?” I asked curiously.

                “No, I work for a wholesale company dealing in cereals, but that is only a front. It is in fact the office of the Secret Service. Come and see where I work.”

                Paja’s Secret Service bureau was no more than a hundred meters away from Café Domovina. The building was not much different from the others in the surrounding area. A few pensioners lived on the ground floor. I barely noticed a glass partition on the first floor with the inscription ZITOPROMET Sarajevo – Business Office in Belgrade. We entered the big premises of ZIOPROMET where we were welcomed by an attractive brunette. Paja introduced me as his relative. There was a sign on the door with the inscription: Paja Zelenkovic, Engineer. Everything was very confusing and beyond my understanding. Different thoughts popped into my mind. I couldn’t figure out whether this was true or whether Paja was lying! Was this really a Secret Service bureau or the bureau of some foreign Secret Service? I was afraid. How would this end? Paja introduced me to a man as his boss. A thought flashed through my mind, Paja has a lot of bosses!

                “Miso,” said the short man, who was about forty years of age. After a short pause, he added that his surname was Vukoje.

                Paja winked at me in such a way that Miso Vukoje didn’t notice. I understood Paja’s intention and I didn’t show that I was interested in the surname Vukoje. When we were alone again, Paja praised me, because had I understood his sign to keep quiet and did not show that I knew Vidoje’s brother in Bucharest, about whom his family knew nothing since his escape from Yugoslavia. He added that when meeting Vidoje again in Romania, I had to be careful not to show that I knew his brother in Belgrade.

                We stayed about half an hour in Paja’s office and agreed to meet again the next day at about ten o’clock in the evening.  As soon as I parted from Paja, I took a taxi to Mico’s house and informed him about what Paja had told me and about the place we had visited. To my great surprise Mico told me, “It’s all true, Zoran. Everything that Paja Zelenovic told you is true – and now you need to be much more cautious. You are now in the middle of a big game. You can help us a lot, and I’m pleased, because everything is going exactly as it should. I have completed my assignment. We’re not going to see each other often from now on. I’ve been assigned another task. You will soon be asked for an interview with comrades in Zrenjanin and Novi Sad. I gave them the best of recommendations, ones you can only dream about. You’ll see that these comrades with whom you will work are very good and honest people. I believe you won’t make a fool of yourself.”

                “Mico, why didn’t you tell me before that Paja is one of us? How can I look him in the eyes now that he knows I was spying on him?”    

                “Don’t worry about that, Zoran. Paja is a good man. He told us the most wonderful things about you. You should have met that comrade from the district, but that hit-and-run accident occurred. This week you will be called to go to Zrenjanin. It is a matter is the greatest importance and mustn’t be delayed.”

                “Uncle Mico, I don’t know what to say. You made a complete fool out of me! I don’t know who is who in this game!”

                “My dear Zoran, that’s the way it is in our spying profession,; you will soon get used to it. The work of a spy is very difficult, but men like us prefer this line of work. I don’t know what I would do, if I had to stop working for the Secret Service some day. My life would probably be without any purpose at all.”

                Mico related a lot about his life and career in the Secret Service to me that day. I couldn’t concentrate and hardly listened. Something was bothering me. I felt like crying and tried to get rid of the nightmare inside me. The thing that bothered me most was the fact that I would not be able to meet Mico anymore, for I loved him very much. I lost someone whom I loved since embarking on this road full of ambiguities. Mico was dear to me; sometimes I hated him, but always considered him a friend I could rely on. I was so sad that I couldn’t say a word. For a moment, I felt utterly lost and abandoned.

                Although I was delighted with the work as a secret service agent, I felt at the very beginning that this job was repulsive. But I was already drowned in deceit and there was no turning back.

                The sudden and unexpected parting with Mico and the loss of his support frightened me for a while. But it stirred the belief in my own self and I soon felt enormous strength. I admired myself for becoming more and more independent in this work and for getting the opportunity to fulfil the dream of my youth – to become a famous spy. I already imagined myself as the most famous of spies, admired by everybody, a hero bravely eliminating some of the most dangerous enemies of our people, who were plotting against Yugoslavia from abroad…

                Full of dreams about my future success and great fame, I set off bravely and recklessly on this slippery and dangerous path of a secret service agent, without suspecting that this deceitful path would quickly lead to a total breakdown of all the dreams of my youth – into a ghastly and endless life tragedy.

 

VIII – A New Assignment in Sweden

 

Paja took me to Zrenjanin to introduce me to his new bosses. We met each other in the police station near Begej. Those present were Stanic, a man who introduced himself only as Mikica and a third man named Obrad Grkovic. Grkovic told me that he would be my boss, that I would receive orders from him and that I should submit my reports to him.

                The three men asked me to describe in details what had I seen in Bucharest and whom I had met there. I told them everything I knew. They were most interested in Vukoje and Milan Zuban. They explained to me that together with Paja Zelenkovic, I would soon go to Romania again to try to get close to Vukoje and Milan Zuban and become friends with them by relating that my father was a retired member of Inform Bureau.

                They told me that I would receive enough money for the trip to Romania, but not to spend too much, so as not to arouse any suspicion. I should try to get close to Zuban, because he trusted me more than Paja.

                Milan Zuban was a Serb from Bosnia. He was a pre-war communist and within the partisans was given the rank of a major. He was a great idealist and completely devoted to the Soviet Union. He spoke about it with delight and excitement. “Zoran, I have devoted my entire life to communism. But not to the communism we have in our country today. Tito is a big bastard, an evil and cunning man, who suffers from his own fame. He’s become a revisionist out of his desire for personal fame and glory. He killed Arsa Jovanovic (chief of staff in the Partisan war), destroyed the work of Zujovic (a leading member of the Communist Party) and sent numerous other communists to Goli Otok (Jugoslavian concentration camp). Many people were killed and many more suffered from that fat capitalist pig that has crept underneath our communist skin and is now sucking our blood. That fat ‘Onasis’ from Kumrovec is living today more lavishly than any king ever did!  And so that he and his toadies can live in luxury, they sent more than a million of workers to labor in capitalist countries, most of them to Germany.”

                I didn’t feel comfortable listening to such disparaging remarks about our famous marshal, but nevertheless succeeded in not arousing Zuban’s suspicions. I had to act as if and didn’t reveal myself.            

                Zuban grew even fiercer in his tirade against Tito. “That false champion for workers’ rights, putting on marshal uniforms, wearing golden rings, medals and diamond pins! Dressed like Hitler’s big-headed marshal Goering! Betrayed every principle that we were fighting and dying for in the horrible war against the Nazi dragon! And now he dares qualify us, true communists and fighters, as traitors, while he himself is the biggest traitor to the communist ideology and the public defender of capitalist agents from the West. He will, Zoran, one day stand trial before the Supreme Court – the People’s Court.”

                When I met Zuban again, he gave me several leaflets and pamphlets to deliver to my comrades upon my return to Yugoslavia, all attacking the regime in our country and glorifying Chinese communism,

                Vukoje spoke less and was by nature more restrained than Zuban. I succeeded in becoming his friend, and he often invited me to his house. One day, when I was sure that Vukoje would be out with his wife, I decided to go to his house without informing Paja. I opened the front door with a jemmy and looked all around the premises. I knew the plan of the house. The big padlock on the door to the attic I found to be very suspicious! I opened it easily with the jemmy and carefully inspected the attic. I saw a paper lying in front of a big trunk. When I bent down to pick it up, I noticed that the trunk was very light. Instinctively, I pushed it away and was very surprised to see a trapdoor on the floor. My surprise was even bigger when I lifted the simple hatch on the floor and found a clandestine radio transmitter inside! I trembled from excitement! I quickly took a good look at the radio station and the rest of the attic, put everything very carefully back in place and succeeded in getting out of Vukoje’s house without being noticed.

                I couldn’t wait to return to Yugoslavia and brag in front of my chiefs, in front of Obrad Grkovic about what I had discovered in Vukoje’s attic.

                Grkovic was delighted with my success, praised me and foresaw much fame and fortune for me. I was extremely happy and proud of my first independent accomplishment.

                After reporting this to Grkovic, he introduced me to an UDBA secret service agent from Sweden. His name was Vukasin Milicevic, nicknamed Ringo. Ringo told me on that occasion that he lived in Sweden as a God, and that living there was very beautiful. I expected Grkovic to send me to work in Sweden after this achievement, but that wasn’t to happen immediately.

                Grkovic kept me a whole week in Belgrade and gave me many papers and photographs to study in the meantime. By the end of the week, I went to visit him again in Zrenjanin.

                On May 1, 1969, exactly on my birthday, instead of celebrating it at home, I had to go to Paris with the assignment to get as close as I could to Vlado Dapcevic and if possible get in touch with him personally. I went to Paris, but failed in my attempts to get close to Dapcevic. He probably left Paris at that time, and so I returned to Belgrade.

                After I came back from Paris, Obrad Grkovic gave me another task. He told me to prepare myself for a trip to Sweden. I was to go to Sweden as an ordinary worker so as not to arouse any suspicion by the Swedish police. If there were any difficulties with my work in Sweden, I was allowed to marry a Swedish girl and automatically become a Swedish citizen.

                Grkovic told me that my first assignment in Sweden would be to eliminate the Serbian and Croatian emigrants, who were working against our country. My final objective was to gather information about the whereabouts of Vlado Dapcevic and to get close to him, cautiously and without arousing any interest; later, upon receiving the order to do so, I should eliminate him. Grkovic told me that I would work in Sweden on my own, which was very flattering. I was even more proud of myself, because they had given me the task of locating and finally eliminating such an important ‘enemy of the state’ as Vlado Dapcevic. I believed that if I succeeded in this achievement, it would bring me fame as a secret agent. I was eagerly awaiting for this encounter to occur and fervently wished to be the one to kill this major enemy of our people.

                I was sent to Sweden to contact a secret service agent in Sweden called Vukasin Milicevic – ‘Ringo’ as his backup in the struggle with Croatian and Serbian agents in Sweden. Not even Ringo was supposed to know the real objective of my arrival: the elimination of Peko Dapcevic.

                I arrived in Sweden in October 1969 with the 5000 dollars that Grkovic had given me. Obrad ordered me to give a half of it to Ringo and to keep the other half myself.

                I quickly managed to survive in Sweden. My knowledge of karate also helped considerably. During the first days of my stay in Sweden, I stayed at Ringo’s, who he had a little club with a casino. After that I moved to Zdravko Pecanac’s house. Ringo found a job for me in a karate club. There, I met a Swedish girl, who became my wife and who gave birth to our son. Grkovic was against this marriage. He thought that I had married that Swedish girl too quickly and without permission, but in fact he was afraid that through this marriage I would come too close, more than I should, to the Swedish people and fall under their influence.

                In the beginning, my activities in Sweden went well. I learned Swedish quickly and became more and more popular in karate clubs, but still hadn’t discovered my true identity. Yugoslav emigrants and Yugoslav workers in Sweden appreciated me and considered me a great ‘Serbian nationalist’. They probably thought so, because I had beaten up some Croatian nationalists, who were bragging too much.

                I started a new and more complicated spying career with many events, surprises and excitement in Sweden, but things weren’t going as well as I had expected. I trusted too much in myself and sometimes was unable to make the most appropriate decisions. After my marriage in 1970, I felt more certain of myself and continued my spying career. I was proud of my beginner’s success and felt the irresistible urge to go further and further with new adventures, which I bravely undertook without anyone’s order, completely on my own. After every success, I always had the biggest decoy in front of me, which was to apprehend Vlado Dapcevic and to empty my gun in him. That action looked so easy to me at that time and I never suspected that I would not be able to complete it.

 

 

IX – On the Trail of Vlado Dapcevic

                         

Two months after the murder of the Yugoslav ambassador Rolovic in Sweden, I received a telegram from my boss Grkovic to return to Yugoslavia immediately. Upon my return, I had to solve many problems. When everything was resolved, I was ordered to return to Sweden and pay Vladimir Bacvic a visit. I was told to tell him that I was                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  Dapcevic’s agent, that I had worked for a long time within that group and to record the entire conversation.

                I arrived in Stockholm at the beginning of September 1971. I was ordered to investigate the emigrants, who were coming from England to Sweden to open casinos here. I soon found out that the head of that group was a certain Obrad, born in Nis, with the nickname Bata. Bata had been an emigrant for a long time. He helped many Serbian national organizations and nobody suspected that he and his men were secret service agents. Together with one of them, a man named Dusan Sekulic, and with Ringo and his brother Rajko we opened ‘a casino’ called Montenegro.

                I met Vladimir Bacvic as ordered. He told me he knew about the connection that the leadership of the communist party in Croatia had with Croatian emigrants. He asked me to pay him thousands of kronen in order to give me the names of the people from Yugoslavia who were connected with emigration. I recorded everything he said and immediately sent it to headquarters.

                In October of that same year, there was an attempt to murder Dusan Sekulic in the Montenegro club. I disarmed the assassin at once and I locked him up in a room of the basement of the club that we used for our meetings. The assassin’s name was Tomislav Rebrina. He admitted his guilt at once. I hardly managed to save him from Dusko Sekulic, who wanted to kill him right away. Dusko didn’t know what I knew. Rebrina confessed that he was working on orders from the Secret Service from Osijek and that it wasn’t the first time that he had tried to commit a murder. He also confessed to me that he worked for many years as a secret service agent from Osijek and that all that time he was a member of the Croatian extremist organizations abroad! He added that the Swedish Secret Service had a connection to that group in Osijek and that Igram von Olsen was at that moment present in Osijek. I recorded Rebrina’s entire speech, while Ringo was standing guard at the door of the basement to bar Sekulic from entering, who was furious and tried to kill Rebrina again. At about 5 o’clock in the morning, I took Rebrina to the Swedish police and accused him of attempting to kill Dusko Sekulic in the Montenegro club. The next day, I was asked to come to the Swedish secret police called SEPO. They were most of all interested in what I did with a letter I had found on Rebrina’s person. I pretended not to know anything about it. A month later, I was present at Rebrina’s trial, but didn’t testify against him on orders of my boss. Rebrina was sentenced to two months in prison!

                The Swedish secret police started investigating me more and more and tried in all possible ways to get me to work for them. They said they wanted me to be their karate trainer and tried all sorts of tricks to get me on their side. One of their tricks was to accuse me of breaking the law, because I had slept with a girl, who was a minor! Later on, I found out that for more than a year that girl had been out on the streets and sleeping with many men before me. My relationship with that teenage Swedish girl was considered rape and I was forced appear in court! Instead of rape, I was sentenced to prison on account of the 18 fights I had been involved in at the clubs, where I worked as a security guard! It was a form of coercion against me to join the Swedish police and work for them.

                While in prison I wrote two books: The Belgrade Underworld and Bible for a Man Without Faith. This last book dealt with my generation, which was left to its own destiny and no longer believed in anything!

                Ringo did his military service in Yugoslavia. I received a letter from him to get in touch with my uncle. That was our secret code, ‘uncle’ being Marko Milunovic from Sweden, Vlado Dapcevic we always called ‘wizard’.

                I wrote to Marko Milunovic and I sent him a recording of Serbian songs. Milunovic wrote me back, thanking me for the record. He didn’t suspect that I would soon be preparing to kill him. I was ordered by Grkovic to lure him to Upsala. I wondered why I should go to Upsala, when I could just as easily eliminate him in Vesteras! I wrote Milunovic a letter from Upsala, signing as Radoje Kovacevic. My boss Grkovic had sent me a passport under that name. Milunovic answered my letter, but as a cautious emigrant refused to come to Upsala. My bosses in Yugoslavia considered that to be my failure and punished me severely. I was ordered to destroy all the material I had with me and to immediately return to Yugoslavia. When I got back to my country, Obrad Grkovic welcomed me in a most unfriendly manner, not even wanting to shake hands with me! Instead of greeting me, he said, “You have come, traitor!”

                It wasn’t the same Grkovic anymore, who flattered me and glorified my spying prowess. He ordered me strictly not to leave Belgrade and to await further orders there. While I was thus waiting in Belgrade, he slyly organized a cowardly attack on me. A group of his men beat me up one night in Skadarlija, hitting me from behind on the head with a brick and causing a wound that bled profusely!

                Maybe his revenge on me would have even been more severe, had my father not personally approached our cousin Rados Nedic, a high official of the Secret Service from Novi Sad. Rados Nedic inquired extensively about my work and finally, as my cousin, decided to help me by giving me one more chance to go back to Sweden and to correct my mistakes there. They would first send me to Holland and then again to Sweden to kill Stipe Mikulic and another Croatian. For that purpose he gave me a passport under the new name Djuric Obrad. He also told me that Marko Milunovic was no longer considered dangerous, that the information about him was not true and that he even knew what Milunovic was having for breakfast!

                Nedic later changed his plan a little. He gave me 3000 German marks and ordered me to travel immediately to Holland and then to Oslo in Norway, where he would wait for me in Hotel De Ribo. I arrived in Holland in the middle of September 1973. From there, I went on to Norway where I met Nedic with some delay, because my car had broken down. Nedic ordered me to return to Holland to try again to become friends with his agent Sasa Colakovic, and arranged a new meeting for us in Holland.

                While waiting for Rados Nedic, I went one day to Restaurant Boomerang in Amsterdam where I met two young men by accident. One of them was called Batke and the other one Marko; both of them were Macedonian. They revealed a secret to me, namely that they were there as tourists, which meant that they were criminals. We became friends and they started working for me.

                By accident, these two men were to be with me when the powerful UDBA Secret Service attempted to kill me!

                Finally, my new boss Rados Nedic arrived. He took me to a secluded restaurant and solemnly declared that they had decided that I should go to Brussels to kill Vlado Dapcevic!

                Hearing that I had been chosen to kill Vlado Dapcevic made me tremendously happy! Melting with pride, I thought that if I were to succeed in this, all the wishes for my future would be fulfilled.

                He told me to find Bora Blagojevic in Brussels, who owned a café called Sarajevo, and that this man would connect me with Vlado Dapcevic. I even received Vlado Dapcevic’s phone number.

                When I phoned Dapcevic for the first time, I told him, as was agreed with Nedic, that my name was Zoran Jovanovic and that I was sending him greetings from Slobodan Kovacevic and Milan Zuban from Romania. That was sufficient for Dapcevic. He immediately made an appointment with me to visit him at his apartment.

                Nedic sent me his courier with a gun (a Colt revolver). Everything was ready and the fulfilment of a great dream was within reach.

                The courier who had brought me the gun also said that Nedic ordered me to go to Brussels alone, on December 16, 1973. He also ordered me to visit Dapcevic and to shoot him when he opened the door, and not to escape to Holland, as planned earlier, but to Munich. He would wait for me at an appointed place. This change rendered me very suspicious! Why was I supposed to go to Brussels alone? I began to suspect that maybe Nedic wanted to have me killed there together with Dapcevic. It made me extremely angry, but hid it from Nedic’s courier. Reluctantly managing to overcome my emotions, I decided to go to Brussels to commit that murder, to eliminate all suspicion and to prove to them that I was no traitor.

 

 

X – The Confrontation with Vlado Dapcevic

and the Bloody Aftermath

 

I arrived in Brussels on December 16, 1973. I had taken Marko, the Macedonian with me and left him in a restaurant to wait for me. The restaurant owner was a woman from our country with the name Zora. I told Marko to wait for me while I was finishing some errands downtown. He asked me why I looked so pale and if ‘I was ill!’ I explained that it was probably due to a little cold. Marko knew nothing about the real reason for my trip to Brussels.

                 At about one o’clock in the evening I telephoned Dapcevic from Zora’s restaurant and told him that I had arrived in Brussels. He gave me his address: Avenue George Bergman.

                I took a taxi to Dapcevic’s apartment. Random thoughts were entering my mind on the way over. I started wavering for a moment and asked myself all sorts of weird questions! I managed to get rid of those notions and decided that when Dapcevic appeared at his door, I would shoot him immediately. I already imagined him falling to the floor with a deadly shot from my revolver.

                Then again, something whispered to me asking whether it was proper to kill a feeble old man in this way. I took courage again, soothed my restless conscience and convinced myself that Dapcevic was an enemy of our country. I kept telling myself that he wanted to heap misfortune on my father, grandfathers and uncles by destroying everything they had ever fought for. He also wanted to make my brother, sister and our whole nation miserable. That gave me the strength again to kill him without mercy.

                I woke up from those reflections when the taxi stopped in front of the three-storey house where Dapcevic lived. I pressed the speaker and immediately heard his voice.  “Come upstairs, please. I’m on the second floor. I will wait for you at the door.”

                Quickly I went upstairs. I needed no elevator. I came to Dapcevic’s door, but he hadn’t come out yet. I rang the bell, put my hand in my pocket and held my loaded revolver ready to shoot.

                Suddenly the door opened, and amazed I looked at Dapcevic, smiling at me and cordially saying, “Hello comrade!”

                My free hand shook his hand unconsciously. “Hello uncle Vlado,” I yelled happily, also smiling cordially at him!

                Earlier during similar encounters, I had been as cold as ice and managed to stay calm. The cordial smile and the warmth in Vlado’s eyes, however, completely enchanted me and probably awoke certain human features hidden deeply somewhere inside my subconscious. His face reminded me of the face of our great national hero Sava Kovacevic. Dapcevic’s hair was grey. He was about sixty years old, but looked even older. His countenance showed traces of a difficult life in war and in prison. His eyes shone like bright candles and, even though beholding me for the first time, expressed endless trust! He shook my hand as I were his trueborn son, invited me into his house and offered me a drink. We were alone. We started a conversation. I wondered what was happening to me!

                “Shoot! What are you waiting for?” The other Zoran, the bloodthirsty UDBA trainee, who yearned for fame, said inside me.

                The other Zoran told me to stop and talk a little with this noble old man.

                I made a mistake by listening to this other Zoran. That was my great weakness and mistake, but today I’m proud of it.

                I felt at once as if I were the accused one and heard the voice of my conscience,  “Zoran, you are the killer! Your victims are not killers. You are the killer and those who pay you to kill.” We talked for almost an hour. Vlado’s gaze became even warmer and his smile happier. He told me about his wife and child.

                I gathered all my strength, looked him right into his eyes and told him who I was and why I had come.

                Probably my face assumed that horrible expression when preparing to eliminate an innocent victim. But this amiable old man neither yelled nor moved and his gaze told me, “Okay, go ahead and shoot this old man.”

                I looked down at the floor, my whole body felt weak. Becoming soft as a lamb, I began to confess everything to that old man, whom I had never seen in my life and for whom I had been so bloodthirsty!

                He was surprised that the UDBA knew everything about him. I did not reveal the names of my bosses. I was unprepared for this whole situation. I promised to call him again.

                Suddenly, a strange feeling came over my body and soul. Everything around me appeared in new, beautiful and unknown light! Vlado escorted me down to the street. I took a taxi and soon got back to Marko. At 6 o’clock, we boarded a train for Holland. Vlado Dapcevic stayed safe and sound behind in Brussels and I wasn’t too interested in what was in store for me. I felt a kind of freedom that I had never experienced before and wanted to savour that as long as I could. I was happily singing a song! Marko looked at me in surprise, because that horribly pale face had vanished. I had broken the chains that I had put on myself!

                I thought about my wife and son for whom I wanted to live in the future.

                The train was getting closer and closer to the free country of tulips – Holland – sweet and beautiful freedom.                                                                                               

                Zoran, the killer, who was sadly mourning in me, had been overcome for good. At least, so I believed at that moment. I couldn’t never have dreamt that my long-awaited freedom would be so short and my imprisonment so endless!

                I threw the gun, which Rados Nedic sent me, away in the water, burned the passport with the name of Djuric Obrad and fashioned a new one for myself with the name Jan Cerv. I intended to go with it to Sweden to see my wife. But I did not hurry with my trip to Sweden, for I wanted to enjoy my new-found freedom as much as possible. Freedom was smiling at me after so many years of serving the heartless UDBA Secret Service.

 

While enjoying my precious freedom in Holland, UDBA did not remain idle. By the law of their dreadful moral code, there was only one punishment in store for disobedient members: death at the hand of one of their hit men. Radoje Maric went to work at once. The punishment had to be meted out immediately and efficiently. He had insufficient time to engage a more professional hit man.

                One night, I went with Batke and Marko to a café called Boomerang where three completely unknown young men approached us. One of them, the leader of the gang, was called Misa. Looking at me with his bloody eyes, he challenged me without any apparent reason to a fight get outside the restaurant! I thought they only wanted to fight, but something told me that they were preparing to shoot me on somebody’s order.

                We walked to the exit. I let all three of them go in front of me. Misa went out first, while the last one to leave was the third member of the gang, whose name was Buca. Misa went to his car, took out a machinegun and pointed it at me. Just before he pulled the trigger, I quickly grabbed Buca and held him in front of me as a cover. At the entrance to the restaurant, I robustly pushed Buca away from me and went back inside. Bullets were flying all over the place! After the shooting had stopped, I cautiously left the restaurant, took a revolver from my car and together with Batko started to pursue our attackers. We searched every café, but without success. In one of the cafés, I noticed Rados Nedic with another man. I intended to empty my revolver into his chest, but left the restaurant before he even noticed it. I wanted to catch the attackers alive, so that they could tell me who had ordered them to shoot me.

                The next evening, around 8 o’clock, I went with Batke and Marko into a restaurant called Mostar. There we saw Radmila Krivokapic, Sasa’s friend. When she noticed us, she turned pale as death. I didn’t want to approach her. Batke went to talk to her. I moved to the other side of the hall and started putting some coins in a slot machine. Suddenly, the door opened.  Buca stood squarely before me! I quickly grabbed Buca’s hand and hit him so hard with my revolver on his head that he fell to the floor. Misa and Djoka were standing at the door. When I pointed my gun at them, they started running. I went in pursuit of them. Batke and Marko ran after me. The attackers escaped in their car. I got into Batke’s car. He said that Radmila Krivokapic had told Misa that his gang had three machineguns with them. This frightened me and we started to pursue them. On a square in front of restaurant Boomerang, I noticed a white Volkswagen and recognized Misa in it. Sasa was standing in front of the car, ready to get in. I got out of our car and started shooting like a madman. I saw Sasa getting hit and falling down by the car, but didn’t know whether I had hit the other two men. At that moment, Batke drove his car up. I got in and noticed that also Marko was inside.

                Agitated and furious, I ordered Batke to drive as fast as he could to get us out of there.

                We heard police sirens all around. A white car stood in front of us on the semaphore. I fired several bullets and then noticed that it was a police car!

                I told Batke to surrender. While getting out of the car with my hands up, I saw that my mouth and one arm were bleeding. Armed police officers encircled us. One of them bandaged my arm with my scarf. They took me to a hospital, where I was immediately operated on. After that, I was transferred to prison.

                 Instead of that much-wanted freedom, which I enjoyed for such a short period, I was put in prison, where I still am today. I was sentenced to 18 years for shooting three men in selfdefense and seriously injuring secret service agent Sasa (Andrija Grizelj) and his friend Radmila Krivokapic.

                The Yugoslav press called this horrible tragedy staged by the powerful Secret Service UDBA: “A Bloody Encounter among Emigrants”!

                                                           

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            

 

 

 

BY DR.SLOBODAN VON PIVA

 

 

NAJTAJNIJA TITOVA TAJNA SLUZBA - CBOB = CENTRALNI BIRO OBAVESTAJNE BEZBEDNOSTI

http://internetnovineserbske.spaces.live.com/blog/cns!E927C3A9FB9FF104!415.entry

 

"PRIVATNI RAT SLOBODANA MITRICA "

PISMO TITOVOM SPECIJALNOM TAJNOM AGENTU

VUKASINU MILICEVICU - RINGU

http://internetnovineserbske.spaces.live.com/blog/cns!E927C3A9FB9FF104!373.entry

 

  • INTERNET NOVINE SERBSKE: KO JE I ZASTO KONFISKOVAO STAN VELIKOG ...

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  • DR.SLOBODAN RADOJEV MITRIC NAPISAO JE JOS NEKOLIKO SPIJUNSKIH ROMANA IZMEDJU OSTALIH: 

     

       

    WINS

     


      OT-II- A-BOMB FABRIKJE

     

     OPERATION TWINS

    Moor info – OT-I-:

    info:www.willehalm.nl/operationtwins.htm
    Moor INFO - OT-II :

    http://www.willehalm.nl/ot2.html

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    SRPSKA ARMIJA NE ODGOVARAJU ZA SADRZAJ OBJAVLJENIH CLANAKA I KOMENTARA. MISLJENJA IZNESENA U CLANCIMA ILI KOMENTARIMA SU PRIVATNO MISLJENJE AUTORA CLANKA ILI KOMENTARA I MOZDA NE PRESTAVLJAJU STAVOVE REDAKCIJE SRPSKE ARMIJE..
     

    SVI VASI KOMENTARI BICE OBJAVLJENI - SPSKA ARMIJA NE PRIPADAJU BILO KOJOJ POLITICKOJ STRANCI - MI SE U SVEMU RAZLIKUJEMO OD PODREPASA, KOJI SU U SLUZBI ILI  ISTOCNE ILI ZAPADNE PETE KOLONE... I KOJI MORAJU PRETHODNO TRAZITI ODOBRENJE MOGU LI OBJAVITI VASE KOMENTARE...

    SRDACNO

    GLAVNI UREDNIK SRPSKE ARMIJE

    DR. SLOBODAN PIVLJANIN

     


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    POSALJITE VAS KOMENTAR

    srpska-armija@hotmail.com

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