Coffee a Ciggarette and a warning.

Apologies for the delay, I figure if I don't post what I have I probably wont post at all so here it is

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In the early hours of the morning a bleary eyed Holden found himself behind the wheel of one of the expeditions vehicles. The other three vehicles in the expeditions convoy were all four wheel drives, Holden's on the other hand was a battered Mercedes transit. Perhaps it was fairly typical in Albania, Holden wasn't sure but the condition of the old Mercedes' ignition left no doubt in Holden's mind the car had been stolen to order.

Holden's first true experience of the Albanian roads was a little more daunting than the drive from the airport. In the early rush hour traffic cars and lorries simply ignored road signs, pedestrians and bicycles weaved through the traffic on some suicidal mission. On the other hand the traffic moved extremely slowly. Holden and the rest of the expeditions convoy made progress simply by driving like the Albanians, by driving slowly into the stream of traffic, and leaning permanently on their horns.

It was the best part of an hour but the convoy finally left the traffic jam which seemed to encompass the whole of Tirana behind them only to start moving along a road where the holes were large enough to hide the van in.

It was well after midday before they reached the lake, a two hour enforced break meant Holden had time to stretch his legs. Looking around Holden noticed an old Albanian couple selling coffee out of the front of their house, Holden went over and with simple sign language let the old woman know he wanted a coffee.

Taking his cup, Holden sat on a low wall and watched the world go by. After a few moments he realised the old man was watching him, he smiled at the man then raised his cup, and made a satisfied Mmmmm, just to emphasise to the man he was enjoying want had to be the strongest coffee he'd ever had.

The old man walked over, drying his hands on his trousers as he came then pointing at Holden's DPM trousers.

"You British Army? I work with British Army in Patriotic War they good, we kill Nazis together, kill Checkists, kill Slavs, kill Italians, kill Royalists, British Army very good"

Holden smiled slightly at the old man's bloodthirsty enthusiasm, a rather one sided conversation ensued as the old man reminisced about his years fighting as a Communist partisan. Holden had no doubt the old man was a real soldier, someone who had experienced real war and come out of it largely intact.

After a while the old man paused long enough to roll himself a cigarette and ask Holden what he was doing in the country. Trying to keep the language simple Holden explained where they were going and what they were up to, he watched as the old man became increasingly agitated, shaking his head.

"This is land of the Verbti, is not good place, they respect no one. No good for you British Army, worse than Royalists, worse than Italians, worse than Checkists and Slavs worse even than Nazis."

Holden stepped back as the old man hawked then spat to emphasise his point. The Old man seemed genuinely distressed and but his grasp of English obviously wasn't strong enough and he broke into frantic Albanian. Holden was at a loss as to what to say, he tried to reassure the man he wasn't at risk, but the old boy merely shook his head and repeated his earlier "no good for British Army" comment.

As Holden climbed behind the wheel of the van to drive it onto the ferry, the Old man was still standing outside the door to his house.