Volkov nodded.
"I know."
"What are you planning to do?"
Volkov looked out the window.
"Disappear."
March 20, 1998, 2:00 a.m., Priština Airport.
Volkov stood on the runway, looking at the unmarked transport plane.
Cheku stood beside him.
"You're leaving?"
Volkov nodded.
"The Black Mamba was caught. I'm next."
Cheku was silent for a few seconds.
"What about me?"
Volkov turned around and looked at him.
"You have two options. The first, keep fighting. The second, surrender."
Cheku was stunned.
"Surrender?"
Volkov nodded.
"Surrender. Hand over your weapons, stand trial, do a few years in prison, then get out. Or—"
He didn't finish.
Cheku looked at him.
"Or what?"
Volkov didn't answer.
He turned and boarded the plane.
The cabin door closed.
The engines started.
The plane slid into the night.
Cheku stood on the runway, watching the plane get smaller and smaller, until it finally disappeared into the horizon.
He didn't know how long he stood there.
