Pound of Flesh
Peter Xiang-Li personally escorts Magda Jovanovic all the way from Brussels, Belgium to Zurich – to refuel – and from Zurich to the Helicopter Pad at Hyne Haus in Sternenberg. They’ve made good time – two hours and fifteen minutes, flying in Heinlen’s AIRBUS ACH160 luxury helicopter. Four VARYAG Security tough guys, fully armed, have been with them every minute.
The NATO Transfer went off without a hitch. Russia got their precious Options on the Zurich real estate they wanted and turned over Kaspar Wymm-Hoeg, the Danish NATO Spy to Interpol – who, in turn, handed him over to NATO High Command in Brussels. NATO then released Major Magda Jovanovic to representatives of the Serbian Orthodox Church. She attended a Divine Liturgy in a Russian Orthodox Church in Belgium – for the first time in years – and promptly jumped in Heinlen’s helicopter that was waiting at a private airport close by.
And here they are. Everybody got what they wanted – with no military bullshit complications.
Major Magda Jovanovic is not what Xiang-Li expected. He thought he’d be nursemaid to a broken-down ex-prisoner of “The Black Hole of Kosovo”. She’s actually the most athletic women he’s ever seen – with ripped arms and leg muscles that look like she’s been running marathons. She’s lean and mean – and has a scar from her left eye almost down to her jaw. Hers is not a delicate beauty as much as it is a pleasingly crisp, chiseled feminine form. She’s got a no-nonsense “Don’t screw with me” vibe. Xiang-Li is convinced that she’s a Valkyrie straight out of Richard Wagner’s Classic Opera.
Xiang-Li can tell that Jovanovic is intelligent – wicked smart. The VARYAG Security guys accompanying them are impressed as Hell. They’re already showing her the deference of command. They know she’s being vetted by the Hetman for High Office in the VARYAG Org – and hands-down, she’s got The Right Stuff.
They get back to Hyne Haus right around dinner time. Xiang-Li can see that the place is on High Alert – why, he doesn’t know. He swipes himself into the massive front doors and walks Jovanovic into the Great Hall. He announces their presence loudly, his bellowing words that echo off the majestic castle walls surrounding them. Magda Jovanovic’s eyes are like saucers as she takes in the impressive structure. Even Xiang-Li has to admit – it’s is a kick-ass house right off a movie set. An awe-inspiring combination of medieval grandeur and twenty-first century modernity that makes your head spin. It screams uber-wealthy…but in a tastefully sensuous whisper. The grande manorial equivalent of Christian Louboutin 100mm heel pumps on a pair of hot Scandinavian female legs.
“HELLO? HELLO!! ANYBODY HOME??? WHERE IS EVERYBODY??”
Chef Lakas pokes his head inside the main gallery side door and responds to the lawyer’s howling.
“THEY’RE ALL IN THE LIBRARY!!! AND TELL THEM THAT DINNER WILL BE SERVED IN FIFTEEN MINUTES!!!
Peter Xiang-Li waives a quick “thank-you” to Chef Lakas and leads Magda Joanovic to the Library. Her silence speaks volumes as her eyes dart everywhere, consumed with the sparse but exceedingly hospitable appointments and furnishings of Hyne Haus.
They reach the massive, wood-carved Library doors and all Hell breaks loose.
Glass shattering and people yelling – a wood-groaning noise like demolition is happening inside.
Peter Xiang-Li gestures to Magda to stay behind him – why, he doesn’t really know – and bursts through the double doors.
Inside the shouting stops instantly. Heinlen, Xen-Chen, Dirk Fremd and Per L’Enfant stand gaping at him with their mouths open, mute – with dumb, embarrassed expressions looking guilty, like he just caught them all masturbating. Books are stacked in piles and shelves are barren – a huge, steel framed (and priceless) Art-Deco light lies smashed on the floor, its crystal globe in a million pieces. The place is torn apart. Peter’s voice is beyond agitated – he’s hungry and he’s had a long day.
“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE? HAVE YOU ALL GONE NUTS? “
Heinlen pipes up in a conversational tone – like everything is just Hunky-Dorey.
“We’re looking for the Shakespeare… We can’t find the Shakespeare.”
Xiang-Li throws up his hands. This place is a Zoo.
“Chef Lakas says dinner is in fifteen. I have the Shakespeare. I did a Masters Degree in English Literature at Columbia before I went to Law School – my Thesis was on William Shakespeare. I read the Bard every night before I go to sleep. It’s my Bible.
Now, Children, may I introduce Major Magda Jovanovic….
Can we go to dinner now?”
Reunion
The kitchen table is literally groaning under the weight of the expertly prepared Serbian dish Chef Lakas has painstakingly prepared as a welcome home for Magda Jovanovic.
It’s a dish called SARMA. Sour pickled cabbage leaf – essentially, large leaves of sauerkraut – rolled and stuffed with a rich mixture of minced pork, beef, rice, salt and pepper. It is simmered slowly for hours in a clay vessel or heavy dish and served with sides of mashed potatoes and crusty bread. It is a hearty meal, made for hard-working people.
The specially paired beverage? Pilsner Urquell beer from the Czech Republic – in quantity.
Major Magda Jovanovic enters the large dining room right next to the cavernous working kitchen on Heinlen’s arm. She’s greeted by a standing ovation – including Chef Lakas. Andrea Vucic, in tears, runs to her cousin and they embrace for a touching full five minutes.
The meal is a full-blown Viking feast – even Peter Xiang-Li gets into the rhythm as he heaps his plate with seconds – and thirds – of the exquisite fare. There’s much gorging and belching. No one stands on ceremony. The women are used to breaking-bread on guerilla campaigns with hard-core killers – and the men just act like men do. Language is salty, laughter is boisterous and drinking is de rigueur – even for Heinlen, despite his medical restrictions. It’s a raucous good time – a celebration of Magda Jovanovic’s freedom and her much-anticipated elevation to Commander of the VARYAG Org.
Finally, Chef Lakas serves his special Arabic-Turkish Blend of coffee with cream and plates of Vanilice – a classic Serbian dessert: sweet pastries fashioned in delicate, flaky biscuit layers, sandwiched with raspberry or strawberry jam and heavily dusted with powdered vanilla sugar.
The convivial, ribald atmosphere settles down and Heinlen knocks his spoon against a crystal glass to get everyone’s attention. His voice is once again serious.
HEINLEN:
“I have it on good authority that what we heard from the mouth of the Nephilim Old One Alaric is true: Demon and Fallen Angel -“Watcher” AZAZEL insists that humans must henceforth honor the so-called “Pactum Vampyrum”. This presents us all with an existential challenge.
Per L’Enfant and I have verified that such a “Pactum” exists and – under the Universally binding precept of Law, Pacta Sunt Servanda – it binds mankind and God almighty. Under the terms of the “Pactum Vampyrum”, Vampyres have the legal right to “Graze” Humans for their blood on Earth. This Agreement was entered into by Lucifer – when he was still God’s Second-in-Command and had not yet declared his intention to “Rule in Hell rather than Serve in Heaven”. The Contract bears his “Sigil” – Lucifers’ own Chalice – shaped Coat of Arms and Signet of Authority. Lucifer signed this when he was still in good standing with the Lord. It’s the real deal.
We all were tearing the library apart looking for our comprehensive folio of Shakespeare.
Why?
Because we were told that the answer to our dilemma – avoiding the devastating repercussions of the Pactum Vampyrum – could be found in Shakespeare’s play – The Merchant of Venice.
We are indeed fortunate to have with us tonight Peter Xiang-Li, Attorney Extraordinaire and holder of a Masters Degree in English Literature from Columbia University. He devoted his Masters thesis to the immortal Bard.
Peter – you have the floor.”
PETER XIANG-LI:
“Right off the hop, let me emphasize that I have not read or reviewed or studied the so-called “Pactum Vampyrum”.
If this Compact, in fact, binds God and the Vampyre Entities in some solemn, nefarious union – I have no firsthand knowledge of it and cannot speak to that allegation.
I am a Lawyer.
I deal with Principles of Law applied to facts – and, from that, I extrapolate what a person’s duties, rights and obligations are.
I have read, reviewed and studied the play, The Merchant of Venice by William Shakespeare. I recall how nicely it dovetailed with my interest in attending Columbia Law School and becoming a lawyer years ago.
Why? Because it is – at its core – a play about Principles of Law.
The story is this:
Once upon a time – actually the 16th Century AD – in a place called Venice there was a Hebrew Moneylender. An exceedingly disreputable and generally revolting man named Shylock. Shylock loans Antonio money and has the debtor sign a curious Contract that provides if Antonio fails to repay the loan with interest, Shylock can opt to carve out of his breast a pound of flesh.
The loan is large. Big bucks – er…Venetian Gold Ducats.
Naturally, it’s Shakespeare – so there’s a love story. Antonio’s best friend has a hot girlfriend named Portia. She’s extremely wealthy, intelligent and resourceful – and she seems to have eyes for Antonio. Later in the story she disguises herself and masquerades before the High Court in Venice as a mysterious male legal scholar from the University named Balthazar.
Time passes – and Antonio defaults. He cannot repay the loan and interest.
Shylock sues Antonio before the Grand Juridical Authority in Venice.
The Judge studies the curious contract that Shylock had Antonio sign and considers the applicable law principles very carefully – especially the Doctrine of Pacta Sunt Servanda. Contracts must be Honored.
The mysterious legal scholar from Venice University, however – Balthazar – discerns a legal loophole in the Contract: the terms provide for a pound of Antonio’s flesh in the event of a default in payment – BUT it does NOT provide for the shedding of Antonio’s blood. If one drop of Antonio’s blood is shed – Shylock’s rights under the Contract are null and void because under Venetian law, carving such a chunk out of a man’s breast would certainly cause massive blood hemorrhage and the loss of his life.
In other words – Murder.
Balthazar also drives home the point that even conniving to make a man sign a contract for money under pain of his own death requires Venetian law to punish Shylock. He is subject to forfeiture of his assets to the state and execution by the Duke of Venice’s Lord High Executioner.
What does the Judge Decide?
The Judge decrees that Shylock can proceed with his contract – Pacta Sunt Servanda – but if one drop of blood is shed or Antonio dies, Shylock must forfeit his own life. Shylock gives up – and ultimately pays a stout fine levied by the Judge for inveigling Antonio to sign his unlawful contract. All’s well that ends well – Shakespearean pun intended.
Moral of the Tale?
The Natural Law of Self-Defense trumps Pacta Sunt Servanda. One man cannot force another man to suffer death without expecting him to fight for his own life with equal force and effect. Mankind has the penultimate right to self-defense in the face of mortal danger.
That, my friends, is the gravamen of Shakespeare’s tale, The Merchant of Venice.
Pacta Sunt Servanda is not absolute. Self-defense is a right that transcends all other laws. It is God’s own Natural Law, as old as time itself.
And that, students, is the end of my lecture.
Do with the information what you will.”
It’s getting late.
They finish their coffee, quietly pondering what Peter Xiang-Li has just told them.
Chef Lakas silently clears the table of dishes and people start yawning.
It’s time to turn in.
Suddenly, there’s a “BANG, BANG, BANG” sound that resonates throughout the Manse. It’s iron-against-iron. The sound of the Hyne Haus’ immense and magnificent front door knocker specially cast by artisans in Spain according to classical blueprints found in Toledo.
Somebody’s at the front door – and refuses to use the doorbell button.
Heinlen pulls out his IPhone and swipes into his Security App. He can’t believe his eyes.
“SON OF A BITCH……..”
He bounds out of the kitchen and rampages through Hyne Haus like he’s on fire.
Heinlen unbolts the door with his companions right next to him, hands on their blades and now flush with adrenalin.
There on the flagstone stoop, in all of her corporeally vile, loathsome and revolting splendor, is Lilith.
In the strobe lighting of the porch security beams, she looks more pallid and death-like than ever. Her white hooded gown emphasizes her gaunt frame. Her freakish canine teeth bulge out like the hideous spikes that Roman Centurions used to nail Christ to the cross. Her sulfurous stench wafts about her like an ominous funerial pall.
She moves forward and extends her arm towards Heinlen. In her hand is a scroll. Her words sound hollow, raspy and splintered in the cold night air.
“TAKE IT.”
Lilith silently turns and walks off the porch. She slowly walks down the driveway, through the open front gates and into the farm fields beyond, eerily blending into the darkness.
Heinlen, scroll in hand, closes the colossal oaken door and refastens its Medieval bolt.
He unrolls the message in the presence of everyone and shares its contents.
“Belisarius will meet us on the next full moon at the base of Mount Aetna in Italy. I am to attend with my Second-in-Command of the VARYAG Org and be observed by VARYAG Special ops from a distance of five hundred feet only. Belisarius will be accompanied by Lilith.
Well, Ladies and Gentlemen. The fat is in the fire.”
*NO PART OF THIS WORK PRODUCT IS AI GENERATED*
Copyright, 2026 – Jon Croft
www.bogironfoundry.com
Email: vlchek1@gmail.com
