The Tribunal

“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.

CHAPTER 33

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 A

“He’ll be here in a few minutes,” A

“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, Joha

“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 A

Hans and A

When she saw it, A

Ellen went to the chair and put her hand on A

Suddenly, Hans jumped up from the chair and reached into his wallet. “Sarah,” he said, walking over to Ellen and A

“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.”

A

A

Ellen just stood there, feeling scared.

A

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

“Can I take Joha

“No,” Hans replied. “You’ll be too noticeable. We’ll take care of Joha

Ellen wanted to protest, but she was too scared.

A

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 Joha

A

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 A

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 A

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.