The TRIBUNAL (29 page)

    “Mr. Stone,” Judge Davidson said, “I have a question for you while we are waiting for the next witness. How many more witnesses will testify about crimes committed by this Victor Vidic?”

    “About twenty, Your Honor.”

    “That’s what I thought,” Judge Davidson said. “Besides the fact that he wore the uniform, what evidence do you have that he was a member of the Black Dragons?”

    “Well, um, it’s part of a pattern,” Stone stammered. “Other Black Dragons did the same things at other camps.”

    “Do you have any documents or records showing that Vidic was trained by the accused or his men?”

    “No.” A trace of annoyance crept into Stone’s voice.

    Judge Davidson continued his cross-examination of Stone. “Do you have any documents or records showing that Vidic was a member of the Black Dragons?”

    “No.”

    “Just the uniform?”

    “The uniform, and the pattern.”

    Turning to Kevin, Judge Davidson said. “Mr. Anderson, you don’t seem to be disputing that Vidic committed these war crimes.”

    “That’s correct, Your Honor. We do not dispute that.”

    “Your position is that he was not under the supervision or command of your client.”

    “That’s correct.”

    Judge Davidson nodded. He turned back to Bradford Stone. “Mr. Stone, there is no point in wasting our time with twenty more witnesses about Victor Vidic. We’ll listen to your evidence about the other camps and see if there is the pattern that you have alluded to. We’ll listen to any evidence that links Vidic to the accused. But any more testimony about Vidic’s individual crimes would be cumulative and a waste of our time.”

    “But, Your Honor,” Stone pleaded, “these acts are in the indictment. We have to be allowed to prove them.”

    “You’ve already proven enough to convict the accused of murder, inhumane treatment, and torture, if you can prove that Vidic acted under the command of the accused. So let’s get to the point and not waste our time.”

    Bradford Stone sputtered. “But – may I have a moment, Your Honor?” He turned to Charles Oswald. They huddled with their investigator, Allen Jacobson, and other members of the prosecution team. When they emerged, Charles Oswald addressed the court.

    “Your Honors, if this is your ruling, we do not have any more witnesses for today. The remaining witnesses we had scheduled all deal with Vidic. We will have to recess until tomorrow.”

    Judge Orozco looked over at Judge Davidson, then at Judge Linares. After a few whispered words among them, she announced, “Very well, the court will be in recess until 9:30 tomorrow morning.” The judges rose from their chairs and filed out of the courtroom.

    Kevin turned to Diane. “Come on, I have someone I want you to meet.” He walked back to where Draga was seated.

    “This is my wife, Diane.”

    Diane stuck out her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

    Draga took her hand, lowered his head, and kissed it. “The pleasure is mine.”

    Kevin laughed. “Stop hustling my wife.”

    Diane looked taken aback.

    Draga was smiling. “After two witnesses, you’re two for two,” he said to Kevin.

    “They’re going to regroup now.”

    “You can handle it,” Draga said. Turning to Diane, he asked if there was any late word on Ellen.

    Diane shook her head grimly.

    “I am sorry. If I can do anything, let me know. I have children, too.”

    Diane managed to get out “thank you” as she looked down at the floor. The mention of Ellen had brought her back to the real world.

    “I’ll see you in the morning.” Kevin said to Draga.

    “I’ll see if I can fit you in. I’m rather busy, you know.”

    Kevin laughed. “I’ll get you a
USA Today
so you can read about your Raiders.”

    “For that, I will cancel my other engagements.”

    Kevin smiled and led Diane out of the courtroom as the guards took Draga out into the holding area through his special exit. “He’s not so bad, is he?” Kevin asked as they walked down the hall in their matching black robes.

    “I guess not. He seems to like you.”

    “There you go. The man has excellent judgment and taste.”

    As they drove home, Kevin and Diane talked about Zoran Vacinovic. “Somebody had to tell the kidnappers where you lived, that you had a daughter, and where she went to school,” Diane said. “He certainly had that information.”

    “It’s strange he hasn’t called,” Kevin said. “I’d like to go over to the embassy and talk to him. Maybe I can get a feel for whether he knows something. At the least, I can ask for his help.”

    “Don’t do anything on your own, please.”

    When they arrived home, there were no more reporters in front of their row house. Kevin was glad to get some privacy back, but worried that their story was fading from the limelight. He didn’t want people to forget about Ellen and stop looking for her.

    When they entered their house, Diane checked their phone messages. There were none. Kevin checked their mail. There was a letter addressed to him. The return address said simply “Ellen.”

    Kevin yelled for Diane. “There’s something here from Ellen.”

    Diane rushed over.

    “Don’t touch the envelope,” Kevin said excitedly, “There might be fingerprints.”

    “Should we open it?” Diane asked.

    “Hell, yes.”

    Diane got the letter opener while Kevin slipped a newspaper under the letter and carried the paper to their dining room table. Holding the envelope by the edges, he opened it. There were two pieces of paper inside. He unfolded the first. It read:

    

    
Start defending Draga and the Honor of Serbia or your daughter will die.

    
She will only be free if Draga is freed.

    

    Kevin and Diane looked at the typewritten message on the first piece of paper from the envelope. It was unsigned, and appeared to be in a standard font from a personal computer. Kevin picked up the other paper by the edges. It was a note in a handwriting he immediately recognized.

    

    
I am Fine. They Are treating me good. I hope they will Return me soon. I love you, Mommy and daddy.

    
Ellen

    

    Kevin looked at Diane. “At least she’s alive,” he said.

    Tears had welled up in Diane’s eyes. “What do these people want from us? You can’t get Draga released. Why don’t they realize that? Why don’t they just let her go?”

    “We’re not dealing with rational people,” Kevin replied. He studied the first note. “Defend the Honor of Serbia.’ That’s what Vacinovic has been saying.”

    Kevin picked up the envelope by the edges to look at the postmark. It had been sent from Amsterdam. “At least she’s close. They didn’t take her to Serbia.”

    “Well, they wouldn’t mail it from where she’s at. And there’s a million people in Amsterdam. How are they going to find her?” Diane lamented. “We’d better call Detective Weber right away.” She walked over to the phone.

    Kevin looked at the two notes again and the envelope which were lying on the newspaper on his dining room table. Maybe they would help the police find Ellen. Perhaps the printer on which the typed letter was produced, the postmark, or some fingerprints could provide a clue.

    Diane hung up the phone. “She’s on her way.”

    Kevin went upstairs to get out of his suit and into some comfortable clothes.
Defend the Honor of Serbia
, he thought.
How am I supposed to do that
?

    When Detective Weber arrived, she read the notes. “Is this one your daughter’s handwriting?”

    “Yes,” Diane replied. “I know how she makes the capital “E” in Ellen. It’s her writing all right.”

    “We’ll have these fingerprinted and analyzed. It’s good news. Ellen’s alive and the kidnappers may have given us some clues.”

    “This ‘Honor of Serbia’ business,” Kevin said. “It’s the same thing that Zoran Vacinovic was trying to get me to do. He argued with me when I told him the court doesn’t allow the defense that the other side committed war crimes first. He said that the world was watching the trial and I needed to defend the honor of the Serbian people, not just Draga.”

    Detective Weber nodded her head. “We have been looking at Vacinovic. He’s apparently highly placed in the Serbian secret police and well connected to the allies of former President Milosevic. He’s assigned to The Hague to monitor the war crimes trials for the government.”

    “Do you think he’s involved?” Diane asked.

    “I don’t know. We’ve been following him yesterday and today, but he’s just gone to the embassy and worked.”

    “Can I go talk to him?” Kevin asked.

    “Let’s wait on that and give our surveillance a little longer.”

    “What should we do?” Diane asked. “What can we do?”

    “You’re doing everything you can. Going to court with your husband was a good gesture. It shows the kidnappers that you are willing to do everything to get your daughter back. Maybe that will give them more reason to think their demands will be met.”

    “Should we try to show that we are defending the honor of Serbia?” Kevin asked.

    “Sure. The more they see you taking their demands seriously, the more likely we’ll hear from them again.”

    Detective Weber took out some plastic bags and tweezers and began putting the letters and envelopes inside. “I’ll send these to the Forensic Department. They’ll look for fingerprints.”

    “I just want to look at Ellen’s note one more time,” Diane said. “It’s the only part of her I have left.”

    Diane and Kevin looked at the note again.

    “Not a word misspelled,” Diane said.

    “It’s odd that she capitalized some words in the middle of a sentence, though,” Kevin replied. “See, she’s capitalized Fine, Are, Return and Mommy.”

    Kevin suddenly realized what Ellen had done. “I think she might be sending us a message. Those letters she’s capitalized spell FARM. She’s on a farm!”

    Diane and Detective Weber looked at the note again.

    “You’re right,” Diane said. “She likes those acrostic things. She wouldn’t have capitalized those words for any other reason.”

    “That’s quite a girl,” Detective Weber said. “She slipped that past her captors.”

    “She almost slipped it past us,” Kevin said. “Way to go Ellen!”

    “What can you do if you know she’s on a farm?” Diane asked the detective. “There are lots of farms in Holland, and we don’t even know if she’s still in the country.”

    “Well, we can concentrate on rural areas in Holland when distributing her picture. We can also interview feed-store owners and other businesses to see if anyone new has moved into a farm recently. I’m sure there are other things we’ll think of.”

    As Kevin and Diane walked Detective Weber to the door, Kevin was feeling upbeat because Ellen was alive, and feeding them clues.

    He wondered what it was like for her on the farm.

    

    

    At that very moment, Ellen was eating dinner with Hans, Jan, and Anna.

    “My mom doesn’t make me eat green beans,” Ellen said. “I don’t like them.”

    “You should learn to like them,” Anna replied.

    Ellen grumbled and began picking at the beans. She ate a few green beans along with the pasta that Anna had cooked.

    “Can I put in a few requests next time somebody goes shopping?” she asked.

    “Like what?” Anna asked.

    “Some Oreo cookies, fruit roll-ups, Pringle potato chips, that kind of stuff.”

    “Forget it!” Anna said. “You get fresh fruit, green vegetables, and granola.”

    Ellen groaned. “This is child abuse!”

    Anna cleared the table while Ellen went out to the schoolroom.

    “We’re not getting any good treats,” she said to Johanna as she bent down to play with the puppy. “I’ll get you some good stuff when we get to my house.”

    Ellen wondered if her parents had received her letter. She hoped they had gotten her clue. Tomorrow, she would try to find out more about where they were so she could send another clue home.

    If that didn’t work, she’d have to look into a way to escape.

    

    The next morning, Diane and Kevin were in Courtroom 1 waiting for the judges to enter. They had decided to try to convince the court to allow evidence of the atrocities committed against the Serbs. At least they could show the kidnappers that they were trying to “defend the honor of Serbia.” A stack of six law books sat on the desk next to Diane, who would write the brief.

    The prosecution’s next witness entered the courtroom a few minutes later. He had grown up in Sarajevo, the capital of Bosnia, and was working as a waiter in a restaurant there when the Serbs started shelling and shooting down from the hills with sniper fire.

    According to the witness, he and his friend, Dimitri Bojanovic, had been driving near the airport one night after having a few drinks at a bar when two Black Dragons with rifles stopped them. The men ordered them out of the car and took them into a warehouse, where they were interrogated about the location of the Muslim positions and the kind of arms the Muslim Army had. Both men claimed they were only waiters and did not fight for the Muslim forces. The warehouse was some kind of command center for the Black Dragons. Dozens of men in black uniforms and black berets were coming and going from the warehouse.

    After the initial questioning, the witness and Bojanovic were taken to another office. Draga was behind the desk. The witness recognized him from television. Draga was wearing the Black Dragon uniform. He stood up and towered over the men. “You have one last chance,” he demanded. “Tell me the truth.”