The TRIBUNAL (24 page)

    “Where is my daughter?” he asked no one in particular as he looked past the camera crews into the dark night.

    “Ellen, my sweet girl, where are you?”

    

    

    There were no lights illuminating the old farmhouse where three adults and a young girl sat around a beat-up wooden kitchen table.

    “You’ll be staying here for awhile,” one of the men said in English.

    Ellen kept her eyes down, staring at the table. She was scared, and she wanted her mother and father.

    “Don’t try anything and no one will hurt you.”

    She had screamed when the men grabbed her from her bike and carried her into the van. She had tried punching, kicking, and biting, but she could not get away from the stronger men. They had told her that if she kept struggling they would have to tie her up. After that, she had sat quietly in the backseat of the van, between the two men.

    The van had sped quickly onto the highway, and then gotten off the next exit. It soon came to a stop on a residential street. The men carried Ellen out of the white van and into a black van. She had sat in the back seat of this van for what seemed like an hour as the driver, a woman, took them through several small towns and finally to a rural area with farms, cows, and lots of grass.

    Ellen had cried until she was drained. The kidnappers had spoken in Dutch among themselves, but it was beyond Ellen’s simple understanding of the language. When the tears had stopped, Ellen had pulled herself in like a tortoise in a shell.

    Now, sitting around the kitchen table as the two men smoked marijuana, Ellen finally got the courage to speak.

    “Why are you doing this? What did I ever do to you?”

    The woman looked at Ellen. “This is not about you. It’s about your father.”

    “When do I get to go home?”

    “That depends on him.”

    “Do I have to sleep here tonight?”

    “Yes.”

    “Follow me. I’ll show you your room.”

    She led Ellen to a bedroom at the end of the hall. It was a plain room with a single bed in the corner and a chest of drawers on the opposite wall. The walls were bare, and badly in need of a paint job.

    Ellen shivered. The room was cold. “I don’t have any clothes to wear to bed, or for tomorrow,” she said, her voice a soft whisper.

    The woman opened the top drawer of the dresser. There were clothes inside. Ellen took out a pair of pants and held them out. The size looked about right. She opened the other drawers and saw shirts, socks, underwear, and pajamas.

    “There are a lot of clothes. Am I staying here for a long time?”

    “I don’t know.”

    Ellen looked around the bare room. She walked over to the window.

    “The windows are locked,” the woman said. “Your door will be locked as well. There are no other houses around. So don’t get any ideas of leaving on your own. If you try anything, you’ll be locked in the basement.”

    Ellen pictured a dark basement like the Chamber of Secrets in one of the Harry Potter books. She wasn’t about to get in trouble with these people. If she did try to escape, she would have to be sure to succeed.

    “It’s time for you to go to bed. I’m going to lock the door now.”

    “Wait! Can I have my backpack so I can read a book?”

    The woman retrieved the backpack. Before handing it to Ellen, she pulled out and inspected the contents. There were schoolbooks and notebooks, three pencil cases filled with gel pens, markers, and pencils, a bag of gym clothes, and a purse with lunch money. Satisfied, the woman left the items on the bed.

    Ellen began placing the books on top of the dresser. “I’m going to need to do my homework in the morning.”

    “You’ll be doing some farm chores, too.”

    “I don’t know how to do farm chores.”

    “You’ll learn.”

    The woman closed the door and Ellen heard the lock click. She sat down on the bed and cried softly. Her Daddy would find a way to rescue her, she told herself, as she got under the covers.

    Emotionally exhausted, Ellen slept soundly that night.

    

    Kevin and Diane didn’t sleep at all.

    At about 10 p.m., Detective Weber told Kevin that she would be leaving an officer inside the house to record any calls that might come in, and two officers outside to keep the press at bay. She and the rest of the police officers were going home.

    Kevin felt a huge letdown when the police officers left. All of the activity in his home had sustained him. Now, there was nothing. He couldn’t imagine going to sleep, not while Ellen was out there somewhere.

    Diane, too, suffered a letdown. She sat on the couch, crying. “She’s probably so scared. I feel so helpless.”

    “I know,” Kevin said. “I feel like going out looking for her, or doing something. I hate just sitting around, waiting for someone to call.”

    No one did call.

    The next morning, Detective Weber arrived at 11 a.m.

    Kevin and Diane leaped up to greet her, anxious for any news.

    “Have you made contact with the CIA?” Kevin asked.

    “Our foreign ministry is working on that. We should hear this morning.”

    “Any other news?”

    “No. Ellen’s picture has been all over the television and in the newspapers. We’ve faxed flyers with her picture to every police department in Holland and all over Europe.”

    “Thank you,” Kevin said. “I know you’re doing everything you can.”

    “What about the kidnappers?” Diane asked. “Did you get any descriptions of them?”

    “Unfortunately, Jennifer is the only one to have seen them, as far as we know. All she can really say is that they were two white males. Everything happened very quickly.”

    There was nothing more to say. Kevin paced around the house, waiting for more information. He went upstairs, took a shower, and changed into a new set of clothes.

    

    At the farmhouse, even the loud call of a rooster had not awakened Ellen.

    When she did wake up, the gray daylight of a cloudy Dutch morning illuminated the small room. Ellen sat up, ready to call out for her Daddy as she usually did when she woke up. Then she looked around and remembered where she was. She felt panic, then started to cry softly.

    Soon, she got out of bed and walked over to the window. Outside, she saw a bright green field of grass, with cows grazing. She counted twenty-two black and white cows. She hoped she would not have to milk those big animals.

    Ellen saw an old brown barn not far from the house. Between the barn and the house was a gravel area with some old rusty tractors and plows. Chickens and roosters were prancing about. She couldn’t see any other houses from her window, just fields and trees off in the distance.

    Ellen felt a shiver start from her bare feet on the wooden floor and work its way up her body. She quickly changed out of the pajamas and put on jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. The sizes fit perfectly. She wondered if there was another girl her age around, or if they had just stocked the house when they planned to kidnap her. She hoped there was another girl. If someone went to this much trouble, they were pretty serious about keeping her.

    After she was dressed, Ellen realized that she had to go to the bathroom. She tried the door to her room. It was locked. She knocked on the door.

    A few seconds later, the door opened.

    “I need to go to the bathroom,” Ellen told the woman.

    The woman led her to the bathroom, next door to Ellen’s room. Ellen went in and closed the door. She wondered if the bathroom window was also locked, but she was afraid to try it.

    When she came out, the woman was waiting. “Come on, I’m going to show you around.” She led Ellen around the house, pointing out the living and dining rooms, two other bedrooms, and the kitchen. Ellen saw the two men from last night sitting at the kitchen table. They didn’t say anything to her.

    “Sit down,” the woman said, pointing to an empty chair at the kitchen table. She dished up a plate of eggs and some toast.

    Ellen ate a few bites, but said nothing.

    One of the men spoke in English. “These are the rules around here. You cannot go in the other bedrooms. There’s no TV, and no phone. You cannot go outside the house unless one of us is with you. If someone else comes, we will have to lock you in your room until they leave. Any questions?”

    Ellen stared at her plate and said nothing.

    “And don’t try to get away. There are no houses around here. If you try to escape, you won’t make it, and we’ll put you in the basement with the rats.”

    Ellen shuddered at the thought. She would be a good girl. “When can I go home?”

    “We don’t know yet.”

    “What do I do all day here?”

    “There’s always plenty to do on a farm. You can start by helping Anna with the dishes.”

    
Anna
. It was the first time that Ellen had heard any of their names. “What’s your name?” she timidly asked the man who had spoken to her.

    “You can call me Hans, and you can call him Jan.”

    “Are those your real names?”

    Hans looked at Ellen with a frown. “What do you think?”

    “No. In that case,” Ellen declared, “you can call me Sarah. I’ve always wanted to be called Sarah.”

    “Okay, Sarah. Get going on those dishes.”

    

    

    The dishes at the Anderson house were going unwashed. Kevin and Diane stayed in the living room near the phone, waiting for some news of Ellen. Kevin paced, looking at the silent phone, then out the window. Diane read a book, trying to distract herself.

    Shortly before noon there was a knock at the door. Kevin went to answer it. Detective Weber, who had been gone for a couple of hours, was back – this time accompanied by a tall, lanky man that a surprised Kevin recognized immediately.

    It was Pete Barnes of the CIA.

    “I believe you know Mr. Barnes,” Detective Weber said.

    Barnes offered his hand to Kevin.

    Kevin shook it, waiting to hear the news.

    “I’m sorry about your daughter,” Barnes said. “Please know that we have absolutely nothing to do with this, I swear.”

    Kevin’s first reaction was disbelief. Then his face sagged with disappointment. He had already worked things out in his mind. He would give the CIA what they wanted and they would give him what he wanted: his daughter. He felt shaky and sat down.

    “I think we have to look at some other angle,” Detective Weber said to Kevin and Diane. Diane, who had jumped up at the sound of the knock, sat down as well. She looked like she was having trouble comprehending the meaning of this information.

    “How do you know whether to believe this?” Kevin asked Detective Weber, not looking at Barnes.

    “The Dutch government made contacts with the United States government at the highest levels. They’ve given us their assurance that they had nothing to do with this.”

    Barnes looked at Kevin. “I’m sorry, I wish I could fix this, but I can’t. It’s not us.”

    Diane spoke to Detective Weber. “Are you satisfied that it’s not the CIA?”

    “Yes, I don’t think they would lie to the Dutch Foreign Ministry.”

    “But intelligence agencies always deny things,” Kevin interjected. “They’ve issued denials for the last fifty years of things they were proven to be responsible for.”

    “The people in our government do not think they would lie to us about this.”

    Kevin’s mind was racing as he fought against accepting the information. He looked at Barnes. “It’s a heck of a coincidence, then. I’ve learned not to believe in coincidences.”

    “Believe it,” Barnes said firmly. “We had nothing to do with this. We’ll help you find the people that did.”

    Diane seemed more prepared to accept this turn of events than Kevin. “If not them,” she asked Detective Weber, “then who?”

    “That’s the question,” the detective said. “Let’s approach this from a different angle.”

    “I’m sorry,” Kevin said to Detective Weber. “I’m having a lot of trouble just accepting someone’s word that they’re not involved. Especially an agency known for denying anything and everything.”

    “How can we prove we’re not involved?” Barnes asked.

    Kevin thought about that. “I don’t know,” he finally said. Turning to Detective Weber, he asked, “Didn’t you say everyone was a suspect until they were eliminated?”

    “They’re eliminated,” Detective Weber said firmly. “I have to rely on the judgment of the Foreign Ministry. We need to move forward, Mr. Anderson. Your daughter is out there somewhere.”

    Kevin thought of Ellen, and pictured her in some squalid house, chained to the walls – or worse. “I’m sorry. I guess I was clinging to the hope that there was some rational explanation for this and it could all be resolved.”

    “What about those people from the Serbian Embassy?” Diane asked. “Have you checked them out?”

    “Not yet. It’s a very sensitive thing to investigate someone from an Embassy. You remember that our Ambassador to Serbia and Montenegro was recalled when the U.N. people searched their Embassy here in The Hague.”

    Kevin remembered that all too well. The U.N. police had searched this very house that night. “Well, what can we do?”

    Detective Weber pulled out her tape recorder and another interview form with Miranda-type warnings. After Kevin signed it, she turned on the recorder and asked Kevin to recount his contacts with the people from the Embassy from his first visit to his latest telephone conversation with Zoran Vacinovic.