The TRIBUNAL (39 page)

    “Barnes’ people picked up a call from Golic to his wife in Serbia early this morning. He’s in Amsterdam, said he had some business to take care of today and would be back in Belgrade tomorrow. We’ve got Golic’s cell phone number now, and the CIA is monitoring it.”

    “Maybe he’ll release her today,” Kevin said.

    “I hope so. What do you think your chances are in court?”

    Kevin hesitated. “I think they’re pretty good, but I’m not willing to gamble Ellen’s life on it.”

    “Maybe we should try to get the judges to postpone the verdict,” Diane suggested.

    “I don’t think they would,” Kevin said, “or even that we should try. I feel okay about it and any delay might make the kidnappers suspicious. Plus, the press has been really bad. The Serbs might expect a guilty verdict and not wait for it. What do you think, Detective?”

    “I’ve never heard of anyone being acquitted by the Tribunal,” she admitted. “Do you really think you are going to win?

    “I do. Their case was nothing more than smoke and mirrors. It fell apart.”

    “I’m thinking we should let things play out then,” she said. “I feel that we’re close to finding Ellen. But as I said before, it would be much safer if they released her voluntarily.”

    The detective wished the Andersons luck in court today and hung up.

    Diane frowned when Kevin came upstairs. “I hope you’re right, Kevin. Maybe you’re so wrapped up in the trial that you’re reading it wrong.”

    Kevin thought about that. He did get to believe his own arguments by the end of a trial – all trial lawyers did. But he usually could tell when he was going to win.

    “I don’t think so,” he said thoughtfully. “After twenty years in this business, I think I have a pretty good sense of how a trial will come out.”

    “Not in this court,” Diane muttered as she walked away.

    Kevin went to his desk and picked up the lucky stone that Ellen had given him years ago. She had insisted he bring it to his verdicts. He clutched the stone, then put it in his pocket.

    When Kevin walked into Courtroom 1 with Diane an hour later, he saw that the visitors’ gallery was packed with reporters and various court personnel, including his old friend Mrs. Kelly, who waved unabashedly at him.

    “All rise!
Veuillez vous lever!
”

    

    

    “Mr. Zaric,” Judge Davidson boomed. “The Trial Chamber finds you guilty as charged. You are hereby sentenced to imprisonment for the rest of your natural life.”

    Kevin felt his body sag from shock, then fear. He just managed to steady himself by leaning his hand on the table. Sweat popped out of his pores as he struggled to maintain his composure. He felt sick to his stomach. He had lost. Ellen was in extreme peril. How could this have happened?

    Kevin couldn’t bring himself to look at Draga or anyone else. He kept his eyes down on the table in front of him. He had failed. Somewhere far in the distance, Kevin heard Judge Davidson continuing to speak. “Mr. Zaric, you have the right to appeal this judgment. I am notifying you that you must file a notice of appeal within thirty days.”

    Kevin concentrated on trying to draw a breath. He was jolted out of his stupor by Draga’s strong voice.

    “I will not appeal your verdict,” Draga said firmly. “It comes as no surprise to me. I committed no war crimes and you know it. But this court has nothing to do with the truth and even less to do with justice. I shall proudly serve my sentence as a prisoner of war.”

    Draga continued, as Judge Davidson sat uncharacteristically silent. “I want to say a final word to those who have kidnapped my lawyer’s daughter. Release her at once. My lawyer did all he could in this kangaroo court. He is my friend. If you so much as harm a hair on her head, I will see that you are hunted down and shot like animals. That is all I have to say.”

    Draga sat down. His mention of Ellen had caused everyone to look at Kevin.

    Tears welled in Kevin’s eyes as he struggled to keep the dam of emotions inside him from bursting in the courtroom. He felt weak, on the verge of collapse.

    Judge Davidson’s gruff voice filled the courtroom. “Mr. Zaric, I find that you have knowingly and voluntarily waived your right to appeal this verdict. You shall be transported to begin serving your sentence forthwith. I am advised that the Registrar has determined that your country of confinement shall be the United States of America.”

    Judge Orozco then addressed Kevin. “Mr. Anderson, I want you to know I dissented from this verdict. I am praying for your daughter. Court is adjourned.”

    Kevin slowly rose to his feet as he held Diane’s hand. She showed no outward reaction to the events. When the judges had filed out, the courtroom guards came up to Kevin one by one.

    “You did a fine job, counselor.”

    “Tough luck, sir, you deserved to win.”

    “I’m ashamed of this place.”

    Kevin only nodded. Diane had already walked out the door toward the defense offices. He ran to catch up, and put his hand on her shoulder. When she turned around, he hugged her. They said nothing for several seconds as they clung to each other, desperately, in the corridor of the Tribunal.

    “I’m so sorry,” Kevin said, tears streaming down his face. “You were right all along – about everything.”

    Diane said nothing. She was not crying, and she did not make eye contact.

    “Come on,” she said, “I’ve seen enough of this place for a lifetime.”

    “Me, too,” Kevin said haltingly.

    They walked quickly down to the lobby and out the door before any reporters could see them. Still wearing their black robes, they got into their car in the underground parking garage.

    “What do we do now?” Kevin asked.

    “We pray for Detective Weber.”

    Kevin still felt weak and shaky. He knew that Diane had summoned her strength and resolve to fill the void, but all he could think of was that he had lost. He had failed Ellen, Diane, Draga, and himself.

    “I let Ellen down,” he moaned. “I pray to God they don’t kill her.”

    Diane looked straight ahead, her face set with determination as she made her way through the traffic in The Hague. “They’ve kept her alive this long. There’s no point in killing her. It won’t accomplish anything.”

    “I want to believe that so much.”

    

    In a gray building in the center of Belgrade, a white-haired man turned off the television and summoned his aide. “Get Zoran Vacinovic on the line,” he ordered in Serbian. When the call had gone through to his country’s embassy in The Hague, he spoke firmly.

    “Zoran,” he said, “Call it off.”

    “Yes, Mr. President,” Vacinovic replied. “Our man is here in The Netherlands. I will try and contact him at once. But may I ask why?”

    “Draga knows too much,” the President replied. “We don’t want him singing like a bird. And he still has dangerous friends here. I think it is best if we accept his wishes in this matter.”

    “Yes. Well, everyone knows that his trial was a farce. Perhaps having the American lawyer and the fact that he did nothing was a good thing. It is just more evidence of the continuing atrocities committed against the Serbian people.”

    “That is what will be said on television and radio here,” the President replied. “You do the same on your end.”

    The conversation ended. In another brick building, this one in Wassenaar, Detective Weber whooped as she put down the phone after an urgent call from the CIA’s Pete Barnes.

    “Yes!” she exclaimed, thrusting her fist in the air. “They’ve called it off.”

    

    Sitting in the van he had just rented, Mihajlo Golic loaded his Beretta. He filled the chamber, although he was certain only one bullet would be needed for the job. He took his cell phone and threw it in the glove box. He would leave it off. There would be no more calls.

    He looked at the card of the hotel that Hans had given him, found the address on the map, and headed to pick up the girl.

    

    After the call from his president, Zoran Vacinovic looked in his address book and found the number for Golic’s cellular phone. He punched the numbers in right away.

    There was no answer.

    

    

    Ellen was again in the bathroom of the hotel room, her ear pressed to the drinking glass she held up to the wall. She could hear Hans and Anna talking.

    “He’ll be here in a few minutes,” Anna said in Dutch. “What should we do?”

    “We have to give her to him. We have no choice. If we don’t, we won’t get the money. A hundred thousand Euros. All our risk and our work this month would have been for nothing.”

    “Can we make it a condition that he not hurt her?”

    “They don’t care what we think.”

    There was silence in the room until Hans called to Ellen.

    “You can come out now.”

    Ellen walked back in from the bathroom, Johanna at her heels.

    “It’s time to start packing up,” Hans said.

    Ellen’s heart was pounding. “Can’t you guys just drive me to my house? I’ll show you how to get there once we get to Wassenaar.”

    “Sorry,” he said. “We have to follow our orders, too, just like you.”

    Ellen sighed, then reached into her backpack and pulled out two folded pieces of paper. “I made you each a card.” She handed one to Hans and one to Anna. “It’s something to remember me by.”

    Hans and Anna looked at the drawing on the front of their cards. Ellen had drawn the farm, with her, Hans, Jan, Anna and Johanna. “Thanks for being my family,” it said on the inside.

    When she saw it, Anna began to cry.

    Ellen went to the chair and put her hand on Anna’s shoulder. “Don’t be sad.”

    Suddenly, Hans jumped up from the chair and reached into his wallet. “Sarah,” he said, walking over to Ellen and Anna. “Here are 20 Euros. I want you to listen to me and listen good.” He put the bill in her small hand and squatted down to her height.

    “The man who is coming might try to hurt you. I want you to go right now. Walk over to that street,” he said, opening the curtains and pointing, a sense of urgency in his voice. “Get on the first bus that comes and it will take you to Amsterdam Central Station. You need to get away from here.”

    Anna hugged Ellen. “Yes, Hans is right. You need to go, now!”

    Anna looked up at Hans and squeezed his hand.

    Ellen just stood there, feeling scared.

    Anna raced around the room, grabbing Ellen’s backpack and stuffing all of her books back in it.

    “This is serious,” Hans said to Ellen. “Go as fast as you can.”

    “Can I take Johanna?”

    “No,” Hans replied. “You’ll be too noticeable. We’ll take care of Johanna, just go.” His voice was loud now.

    Ellen wanted to protest, but she was too scared.

    Anna put her backpack on her shoulders.

    They escorted her into the hallway, and Hans opened the door to the parking lot.

    “Good luck, Sarah,” he said.

    Ellen reached down and grabbed Johanna. “I love you, my sweet puppy,” she said, tears streaming down her cheeks.

    Anna took the puppy from her and gave Ellen a hug.

    Ellen turned and walked away. Once in the parking lot, she started to run toward the bus stop.

    

    It was precisely noon when Mihajlo Golic arrived at the hotel in the van.

    The rope and tape were in the briefcase he carried, and he felt the comforting press of the Beretta lodged in the small of his back.

    Hans was waiting for him in the lobby. “Follow me,” Hans said.

    Hans led Golic outside and gave him directions to the room. “The girl is in room 162. I don’t want to be there when you take her. I’m leaving now.”

    “Who’s with the girl?”

    “She’s watching TV with Anna. She will be no problem for you.”

    Golic nodded.

    Hans gave him the key to the room.

    “Now is the time for our payment,” Hans said.

    Golic reached into his pocket and gave Hans a thick envelope.

    Hans did not look inside.

    As Golic headed for the room, Hans walked in the other direction, away from the hotel. He turned down a residential street where Anna was waiting, holding Johanna. “Let’s get out of here,” he said.

    Golic, carrying his briefcase with the rope and tape, approached the door to room 162. He heard the television. He knocked on the door. There was no answer. He knocked again, louder, but got no response. Finally, he reached into his pocket for the key and opened the door. He saw that no one was inside. He raced into the room, checking the bathroom. It was empty.

    He had been tricked. Golic was furious.

    He raced back to his van and withdrew the Beretta. He drove around the area, looking for Hans or the girl. The Dutch man would pay for this, he vowed. Meanwhile, he would set out for Wassenaar. Perhaps there was still time to find the girl.

    

    Ellen boarded a train for Leiden where she could catch the bus to her house.

    She had gotten to Amsterdam Central Station as Hans had instructed. She was scared and kept looking back, but no one appeared to be following her. She went to a phone to call her parents, but she didn’t have her phone card and the phone didn’t take coins. She decided she would just get home on her own. What a great surprise it would be to her parents when she walked in the door!

    When the train arrived in Leiden, Ellen got off and walked outside to catch a bus.

    She knew that the number 43 bus would take her to Wassenaar and to the bus stop a few blocks from her home. She waited a few minutes for the bus to arrive, and then got on. No one appeared to notice her. She sat looking out the window, knowing that in about ten minutes she would be safely back at her home with her Mom and Dad.