The TRIBUNAL (32 page)

    Stone was his arrogant self now that things were back on track. “We have just one more day of victims, Your Honor. Then we will present statements made by the accused to journalists, and speeches he made. We will then conclude with our chief investigator, Mr. Jacobson, as a summary witness. I expect we will finish our case on Tuesday or Wednesday of next week.”

    “We don’t need to hear from any more victims,” Judge Davidson said gruffly. “Finish your case on Monday.” The judge turned to Kevin. “How long will your defense case be, Mr. Anderson?”

    “I’m not sure, Your Honor. That depends in part on the Court’s ruling on our motion to admit evidence of the atrocities committed against the Serbs.”

    Judge Orozco spoke next. “Yes, I believe Judge Linares is ready to provide the Court’s ruling on that motion.”

    Everyone looked over at Judge Linares. He had been quiet for most of the trial, his expression unchanged as the witnesses had recounted the horrors of the Serb camps. “Mr. Anderson, I want to compliment you and Mrs. Anderson on your memorandum. It was outstanding. I also want to tell those who are still holding your daughter that you have done everything humanly possible to convince the Court to admit this evidence. However, it is the order of this court, as it has been in every case in which this issue has been raised before, that evidence of alleged atrocities against the perpetrators of war crimes is not admissible. It is simply not relevant. We will issue a written opinion in this matter in the near future.”

    Kevin looked at Diane and shrugged his shoulders. He was not surprised, and a bit relieved that he would not have to muck up his defense with evidence that was not going to be persuasive to the court. He just hoped that Ellen would not suffer for it. As Judge Linares had said, they had done all they could.

    Judge Davidson looked at Kevin. “You have your ruling, Mr. Anderson. How long will your defense case be?”

    Kevin looked back at Draga. There were still many things unresolved. Could they get the list of bona-fide Dragons into evidence through the chief investigator? Would they use the CIA evidence? Would Draga testify? Kevin looked back at Judge Davidson. “Can I give the Court an answer on Monday? My client and I have some decisions to make this weekend.”

    “Very well, but you need to be ready to start your evidence on Tuesday.”

    “Yes, Your Honor.” The many unsettled questions about his defense made him very nervous.

    “What are we going to do?” Diane asked when they were alone. “The trial is almost over.”

    “Win the trial for one thing. If the police don’t find Ellen before the verdict, it’s our only hope. I have an appointment to see Vacinovic this afternoon.”

    When Kevin arrived at the Embassy, Zoran Vacinovic greeted him at the door.

    “Mr. Anderson,” Vacinovic said, extending his hand, “I am so sorry about your daughter.”

    “Thank you.” Kevin studied Vacinovic for any sign of insincerity. He really couldn’t tell. He followed Vacinovic into the conference room.

    “What can I do for you?” Vacinovic asked.

    “I was wondering if you had any contacts within the Serbian intelligence agencies that might have some information about the people who kidnapped my daughter.” Kevin looked at Vacinovic’s eyes.

    “Don’t you think I’ve tried?” Vacinovic said, gesturing with his palms up for emphasis. He met Kevin’s gaze. “When I heard about your daughter, I had the Ambassador call the head of our internal police agency. We have made weekly inquiries. There is no information in Serbia about who kidnapped your daughter.”

    “The note we got from the kidnappers seemed to be wanting us to defend the honor of Serbia. That’s why I thought someone from your country might be involved.”

    “I don’t know. Maybe it’s the Muslims. They keep committing atrocities and blaming it on the Serbs. It’s part of their strategy to get the United States to intervene on their side.”

    Kevin did not react.

    “Believe me, Mr. Anderson, if there is anything I or my government can do to help get your daughter back, we will do it.”

    “Thank you. I brought you the brief we submitted to try to get the evidence of atrocities against the Serbs admitted before the Court. I think it’s a good brief, but we lost that issue today. The judges won’t permit it.”

    Vacinovic took the brief. “I hope the people who are holding your daughter are fairer than that court.”

    “Well, I’m still trying to win Draga’s case. I’m fighting with every breath I have, for Draga and my daughter. But the trial will be over by the end of next week, so my time is running out.”

    Vacinovic stood up. “I’ll let you know if I learn anything at all. And good luck in the trial, Mr. Anderson, although I suspect we both know the outcome.”

    Kevin left the Embassy, not knowing any more than he had when he came. He simply couldn’t detect anything in Vacinovic’s words or demeanor that indicated he was involved.

    Despite Diane’s instinctive misgivings, Vacinovic seemed clean to Kevin.

    

    At the regional police headquarters in The Hague, less than a mile away, Detective Weber waited. She put her headset on as the wiretap in the Serbian Embassy signaled that someone had picked up the phone to make a call. The equipment showed that a call was being placed to Belgrade.

    The interpreter translated Zoran Vacinovic’s words for Detective Weber: “The court did not allow the evidence. The trial will be over in one more week. Then, you’ll have to dispose of the package.”

    “I’ll make the arrangements now,” said the man at the other end of the phone. “The Dutch men and the woman will not be suitable for that job. I’ll have to send someone from Belgrade.”

    “Do it yourself, Mihajlo. You know what the package looks like.”

    “Yes, a very sweet and lovely little package,” replied Mihajlo Golic.

    Vacinovic hung up the phone.

    “Put out an all points bulletin for Mihajlo Golic,” Detective Weber shouted to her assistant. “He’s coming to Holland to kill Ellen Anderson.”

    

    

    “It’s Friday night,” Ellen said to Anna as she packed up her schoolbooks for the weekend. “Let’s do something fun. I’ve worked hard all week.”

    “Yes, you have.”

    Ellen had forged ahead in math to solving algebra problems, as Anna frantically read the textbook to try to keep up. Finally, Hans had to be consulted. He apparently had better math skills than Anna. Now, every night after dinner, Hans was reluctantly correcting Ellen’s math papers.

    Science was an easier subject for everyone. Ellen was studying insects, and despite the cold weather, insects were in ample supply at the farm. Ellen had gone on an insect-gathering field trip – under Jan’s escort to make sure she didn’t wander away – and she had collected her specimens in several jars.

    In language arts, Ellen had a real problem. She needed books to read, but there were none at the house and no English bookstores to go to. So, Ellen had taken to writing. She wrote daily in a journal describing her activities and her feelings.

    Since Anna had liked history in school, she was an excellent social studies teacher, and this was Ellen’s favorite class. Anna would tell Ellen stories about the different civilizations that she was studying in the textbook and then have Ellen draw pictures or write short stories about the culture. Ellen proudly hung up her pictures in the schoolroom, and kept all of her other homework neatly in binders, ready to turn in to her real school once she returned.

    The subject in which Ellen learned the most was Dutch. Although Ellen’s real Dutch teacher had only required Ellen to learn twenty vocabulary words a week, Anna had insisted that Ellen learn twenty a day. Since Anna, Hans, and Jan also spoke Dutch when talking among themselves, Ellen had picked up quite a bit of the language. She couldn’t wait to show her Dutch teacher how much she learned. She was almost through the entire Dutch textbook, and the school year was only half finished.

    Ellen had also worked hard this week trying to find another clue that she could pass on to her parents. She finally decided to use the license plate number from the black van that Jan and Hans drove. She still didn’t know where she was, so she thought the license number was the best she could do. She had memorized it by repeating it over and over in her head. Ellen had written some more letters to her parents, but no one would agree to send them. She had to figure out another way.

    “Please,” Ellen begged at dinner. “Next week is the end of the quarter at my school. I need to go back there. They’re going to flunk me if I don’t turn in all this schoolwork. I can’t have all F’s on my report card for second quarter of sixth grade. I’m going to go to college, you know. Can I go home next week?”

    No one answered her.

    Ellen pulled herself up from the table and began washing the dishes. A few minutes later, she heard Hans’ cellular phone ring. He carried it with him all the time, but this was the first time she had heard it ring. He walked into the bathroom and closed the door. When he came out, he went into the dining room and said to Ellen, “I think you’ll be going home next week.”

    “Really? That’s perfect! I can turn in my homework on time. I can’t wait to see my mom and dad, and my friends. Oh, thank you, Hans.”

    She ran over and gave him a big hug.

    When she went to bed that night, Ellen couldn’t sleep because of the excitement of knowing that she would be going home soon.

    Later in the night, Ellen got up to go to the bathroom. She looked at her clock. It was 3 a.m. They didn’t lock her in her room anymore, so she walked to the bathroom quietly on her own. When she got there, she saw Hans’ cell phone lying on the counter.

    Ellen stared at the phone. Should she call her parents? She wanted to so badly. But what if someone heard her? She had only one more week, and she didn’t want to spend it in the basement. What could she tell her parents? She didn’t even know where she was.

    The debate raged in Ellen’s mind. She calculated the odds of getting caught. The bathroom was at the end of the hall near her bedroom and away from the other bedrooms where Anna, Hans, and Jan slept. Maybe she could say she had gotten really lonely if she got caught.

    Ellen’s instincts were to not break the rules. She was going home anyway, why risk it? She headed back to her bedroom. Just as she walked out of the bathroom, she had an idea. She took the cell phone, put it under her pajamas, and climbed back in bed.

    She got under her covers and pulled them and her pillow over her head. She pushed the “on” button to the phone.

    A small “beep” sounded. Ellen prayed that the blankets and pillow had muffled the sound. She dialed her home number and willed someone to answer.

    

    Kevin was deep in sleep when he thought he heard the phone ringing. After a moment, he shook himself awake. It was still dark outside. He heard the ring again and raced to the phone in his office. He glanced at the clock. 3:16 a.m. It was either the kidnappers or some inconsiderate fool calling from the United States.

    “Hello.”

    Kevin heard a soft whisper, “Daddy, it’s me.”

    “Ellen! Where are you? Are you all right?”

    “I’m fine, Dad. I gotta be quick. I’m on a farm in Utrecht. That’s all I know. They say I’ll be coming home in a week.”

    “Can you get away?”

    “No, there are no houses around here. And someone is with me all the time.”

    “Are you being treated okay?”

    “Yeah. I even have a puppy. Her name is Johanna.”

    “Ellen, who kidnapped you?”

    “Two guys named Hans and Jan, and a lady named Anna. But that’s not their real names. Dad, I gotta go. Write this down. 84 FG SJ. That’s the license number of the van they drive. It’s a black van.”

    Kevin scrambled to find some paper. “Give me that again.”

    “84 FG SJ”

    Kevin repeated it.

    “That’s it,” Ellen said. “I gotta go, Dad. I can’t get caught using this cell phone.”

    “God, I wish you could tell me where you are!” Kevin exclaimed. His mind raced for questions to ask. He wanted to never let go of that phone until Ellen was safe.

    “I really gotta go, Dad. They’ll lock me in the basement if they catch me using a phone.”

    “Okay. We love you and miss you so much.”

    “Love you too. Tell Mommy I love her. Bye.”

    “Bye, Ellen, see you soon.”

    “Diane!” Kevin yelled, and ran into their bedroom, turning on the light. “Ellen just called!”

    Diane sat upright in bed. Kevin repeated every word Ellen had said.

    “Oh, God,” Diane said. “I wish I could hear her voice. How did she sound?”

    “Good. She wasn’t crying or anything. She sounded like her usual self, but a little scared. She sounded sure she would be coming home next week. And she said to tell you that she loved you.”

    “Do you really think they’ll let her go after the trial?”

    “I hope so.”

    Diane immediately called Detective Weber’s office with the news. The night dispatcher paged Detective Weber. A few minutes later the detective called. Kevin related what Ellen had said and the license number.

    “We’ll run this license plate right away,” Detective Weber said. “We just got some other leads last night as well. I was going to call you this morning. We found some fingerprints on the envelope with Ellen’s second letter. They come back to a Johan Oosten from Amsterdam. He’s a Dutch male, about 25 years old, who has no criminal record. We contacted the Amsterdam police. Their files show that he’s been a member of a socialist, left-wing student group, sympathetic to unpopular causes like the Serbs.”