The TRIBUNAL

by Peter B. Robinson

  “I didn’t want you to worry,” he said lamely.

  “You didn’t warn me, either. Now look what’s happened.”

  Kevin nodded numbly. He knew Diane was right. He was to blame for this.

  Detective Weber brought Kevin back to the conversation. “About this Pete Barnes – do you have a way of contacting him?”

  “No,” Kevin answered. “I’ve only seen him two times. Both times he just showed up on my jogging route at 6 a.m.”

  Diane started sobbing softly. “Why haven’t they called yet?”

  “I don’t know,” the detective answered. “Each kidnapping is different. There’s no way to predict when or if they will call.”

  Kevin got up and went to the bathroom. When he came out, he saw Ellen’s scooter leaning against the wall near the front door. As he pictured her happily riding the scooter in front of the house, tears streamed down his face.

  “Tell her about those Yugoslavians who kept coming to the house,” Diane said to Kevin when he returned to the living room.

  Kevin quickly composed himself. “It’s probably nothing. I went to the Serbian Embassy for help on my client’s case. A man named Zoran Vacinovic was supposedly helping me. He’s come around here a few times to talk about the case.”

  “Who is this guy Vacinovic?” the detective asked.

  “According to the prosecutor, he works for the Serbian secret police.”

  “This story gets stranger and stranger,” the detective said.

  Just then, the telephone rang.

  Kevin jumped up off the couch.

  Detective Weber raised her hand for Kevin to wait, then scurried over to the table where the phone sat. For a large woman, she was fast and agile. She pressed the “play” button and donned the headset.

  “Pick up the phone,” she told Kevin. “Keep them talking as long as you can.”

  Kevin was nervous, but anxious to pick up the phone before the caller hung up.

  “Hello?”

  “Kevin, this is Jennifer’s mother. What’s going on?”

  The detective took off her headset and pressed the “stop” button on the recorder.

  Kevin announced to the room: “It’s Jennifer’s mom.” Returning to the phone receiver he said, “Can we call you back later?”

  Kevin looked at the clock on the living room wall. It was 5:30. Ellen had been kidnapped an hour ago. It seemed like a week to Kevin. He would give anything to be able to hug his little girl again.

  Through the living room window, Kevin saw that his neighbors had begun to gather on the sidewalk outside, near the police cars parked in front of Kevin’s house.

  “Do they know?” he asked.

  “They don’t know Ellen’s been kidnapped,” the detective said. “For now, the fewer who know the better. We don’t want to spook the kidnappers.”

  Kevin liked his Dutch neighbors and knew they were concerned with all the police activity. Ellen had been a familiar sight in the neighborhood, racing around on her scooter or her bike. In Holland, much more than in America, neighbors looked out for one another.

  Detective Weber went to confer with the other officers, while Diane used a cell phone to call Jennifer’s mom.

  The minutes passed painfully slow for Kevin as he sat in the living room. He stared at the telephone, willing it to ring. He didn’t know what to say to Diane. It was all his fault – she knew it, and so did he.

  Detective Weber came into the living room. “Mr. Anderson, we’d like your consent to search your house. It’s standard procedure in these types of cases. There might be a scrap of paper or something that might help us find your daughter.”

  “Go right ahead,” Kevin replied. He felt very comfortable with this detective. She showed him a consent form in Dutch and translated it to them in English. Kevin and then Diane signed and dated it.

  Detective Weber put the form in her folder. Kevin heard other officers heading up the stairs. It occurred to him that twice in the last six months law enforcement officers had searched their home. Kevin didn’t care; he’d do anything to get Ellen back.

  The detective pulled out another form. “We’d like to take a taped statement from you,” she said to Kevin. “This consent form advises you of your right to remain silent, to have an attorney, and informs you that anything you say can be used against you.”

  Kevin knew the Miranda warnings by heart. As he signed the form, a signal of caution crept into his brain. “Am I a suspect?” he asked.

  Detective Weber paused. “Everyone is a suspect until we eliminate him or her. We don’t want another Jon Benet Ramsey case here in The Netherlands.”

  He shuddered at the mention of the little girl found murdered in her home. Her parents had become suspects mostly because they had refused to speak to the police.

  But Kevin wasn’t concerned about himself. He wanted to do everything in his power to help Ellen. He signed the form.

  Then, the phone rang.

  Everyone froze again for an instant before quickly moving into position.

  Detective Weber activated the tape player and gave Kevin the signal to pick up.

  “Hello,” Kevin said, his voice sounding hopeful.

  “Mr. Anderson, this is Reuter’s News Service. I’m sorry to bother you. I’ve a report that your daughter has been kidnapped.”

  Kevin’s shoulders sagged. “Hold on one moment.” He covered the mouthpiece and said to the others “Reuter’s News Service.” He saw Diane’s face fall.

  Kevin wanted to ask the officers what he should do. “Let me have your name and number and I’ll call you right back.”

  “But can you confirm there’s been a kidnapping?”

  “I can’t confirm anything. Give me your name and number.”

  The reporter complied and Kevin hung up. “Now what?”

  “Get ready for a media circus,” said Detective Weber, pulling the front curtains shut. “We’ll need some more people out here, and some crowd barriers.”

  “Will this spook the kidnappers?”

  “I don’t know. It was inevitable, though. You’d better prepare yourself for a lot of publicity.”

  Kevin felt shaky. He didn’t want to say anything that might hurt Ellen. “I’ll just let your people talk to the press.”

  A few minutes later, Kevin began answering Detective Weber’s questions on tape. During the interview, the phone rang three times with calls from reporters.

  Kevin began to feel foolish as he played the tapes for Detective Weber of his conversations with William Evans and Pete Barnes. He was an idiot for playing games with the CIA. He should have left everything alone. Draga was a big boy. He’d known the risks of doing business with the CIA. Now, Kevin had put his own daughter in jeopardy.

  “I got caught up fighting for my client. I never expected consequences like these.”

  “Have you received any other threats?” asked the detective.

  “Not really. The Serbs are upset with me because they don’t think I’m defending Draga aggressively enough. But I’ve received no direct threats from them.”

  “After hearing those tapes, I would say that lack of aggressiveness is not one of your problems,” Detective Weber responded with a slight smile.

  When the detective finished asking him questions, Kevin walked over to the front window. He peeked around the curtains. News crews were setting up their equipment, their lights illuminating the Andersons front door. It was 7:30, and there had been no word from the kidnappers.

  “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?”

  CHAPTER 19

  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.”

  CHAPTER 20

  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.