The TRIBUNAL
Page 30
Draga continued, as Judge Davidson sat uncharacteristically silent. “I want to say a final word to those who have kidnapped my lawyer’s daughter. Release her at once. My lawyer did all he could in this kangaroo court. He is my friend. If you so much as harm a hair on her head, I will see that you are hunted down and shot like animals. That is all I have to say.”
Draga sat down. His mention of Ellen had caused everyone to look at Kevin.
Tears welled in Kevin’s eyes as he struggled to keep the dam of emotions inside him from bursting in the courtroom. He felt weak, on the verge of collapse.
Judge Davidson’s gruff voice filled the courtroom. “Mr. Zaric, I find that you have knowingly and voluntarily waived your right to appeal this verdict. You shall be transported to begin serving your sentence forthwith. I am advised that the Registrar has determined that your country of confinement shall be the United States of America.”
Judge Orozco then addressed Kevin. “Mr. Anderson, I want you to know I dissented from this verdict. I am praying for your daughter. Court is adjourned.”
Kevin slowly rose to his feet as he held Diane’s hand. She showed no outward reaction to the events. When the judges had filed out, the courtroom guards came up to Kevin one by one.
“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 Anna talking.
“He’ll be here in a few minutes,” Anna said in Dutch. “What should we do?”
“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, Johanna at her heels.
“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 Anna. “It’s something to remember me by.”
Hans and Anna looked at the drawing on the front of their cards. Ellen had drawn the farm, with her, Hans, Jan, Anna and Johanna. “Thanks for being my family,” it said on the inside.
When she saw it, Anna began to cry.
Ellen went to the chair and put her hand on Anna’s shoulder. “Don’t be sad.”
Suddenly, Hans jumped up from the chair and reached into his wallet. “Sarah,” he said, walking over to Ellen and Anna. “Here are 20 Euros. I want you to listen to me and listen good.” He put the bill in her small hand and squatted down to her height.
“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.”
Anna hugged Ellen. “Yes, Hans is right. You need to go, now!”
Anna looked up at Hans and squeezed his hand.
Ellen just stood there, feeling scared.
Anna raced around the room, grabbing Ellen’s backpack and stuffing all of her books back in it.
“This is serious,” Hans said to Ellen. “Go as fast as you can.”
“Can I take Johanna?”
“No,” Hans replied. “You’ll be too noticeable. We’ll take care of Johanna, just go.” His voice was loud now.
Ellen wanted to protest, but she was too scared.
Anna put her backpack on her shoulders.
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 Johanna. “I love you, my sweet puppy,” she said, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Anna took the puppy from her and gave Ellen a hug.
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 carri
ed, 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 Anna. She will be no problem for you.”
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 Anna was waiting, holding Johanna. “Let’s get out of here,” he said.
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.
Ellen boarded a train for Leiden where she could catch the bus to her house.
She had gotten to Amsterdam Central Station as Hans had instructed. She was scared and kept looking back, but no one appeared to be following her. She went to a phone to call her parents, but she didn’t have her phone card and the phone didn’t take coins. She decided she would just get home on her own. What a great surprise it would be to her parents when she walked in the door!
When the train arrived in Leiden, Ellen got off and walked outside to catch a bus.
She knew that the number 43 bus would take her to Wassenaar and to the bus stop a few blocks from her home. She waited a few minutes for the bus to arrive, and then got on. No one appeared to notice her. She sat looking out the window, knowing that in about ten minutes she would be safely back at her home with her Mom and Dad.
Detective Weber popped her third antacid pill of the day in her mouth. It had been a roller-coaster day.
First, there had been news of the verdict. Then, the President of Serbia himself had ordered that Ellen not be harmed. Finally, the frustrating knowledge that Golic was out there somewhere, probably with Ellen by now, and unreachable by phone. Vacinovic had been calling Golic’s phone number for the last two hours with no response.
She thought about how Kevin and Diane must be feeling. The verdict must have been devastating. She decided to pay them a visit and wait it out with the parents, at least until she had some kind of additional information that she could act on.
The first to reach the Anderson home was Mihajlo Golic.
He drove by and looked in the window as he passed. There was no sign of the girl.
He parked his van a block away, behind some trees. He slowly walked back down the street, on the opposite side from the Andersons’ row house, his Beretta tucked once again in the small of his back. He waited behind some bushes. He would be patient, but in the end, he would finish the job that he was ordered to do.
Golic knew he could not go back to Belgrade in failure.
Failure was the word that summed up Kevin’s thoughts as he sat on the couch of his living room, staring blankly out his front window. How could he have done this to Ellen? To his family? How could he have been so naive to expect justice at the Tribunal?
Take me, he prayed to God. Just let my daughter live.
Ellen alighted from the bus, the weight of her backpack once again on her shoulders. It was just a few more blocks to walk on a cold, sunny day.
She pictured her mother, her father, and her room on the third level. It would be great to be home again. She only wished she could have brought Johanna with her.
Golic saw the young girl from about 50 yards away as she crossed the street.
Was it her? He walked forward in her direction, reaching for the Beretta as he strode. As she got closer to the row house, Golic was sure it was her.
He stood at the edge of the bushes now, concentrating on the small target now turning into the walk leading to the row house where the Andersons lived.
He raised his gun.
“Stop! Police!”
Golic was stunned. A large woman was on him, her gun thrust firmly in his ear.
Golic’s weapon fell from his hand as Detective Weber pushed him roughly to the ground. Before he could react, his hands were pulled behind his back and handcuffed.
Ellen neither saw nor heard the commotion. She excitedly rang the bell by her front door.
Kevin lifted himself off the couch and padded over to answer the door.
“Daddy!” shouted Ellen as she leapt into his arms.
“Oh my God, it’s you!” Kevin exclaimed, hugging his daughter, tears pouring from his eyes.
Diane screamed and ran over to them.
The three of them were hugging, laughing, and crying.
They were a family again.
News of Ellen’s return spread through Holland like a North Sea gust. Kevin spent much of the afternoon and evening answering calls from reporters, friends, and Ellen’s classmates. That night, Ellen proudly showed Kevin and Diane all the schoolwork she had done, and insisted that she wanted to go to school the next day to turn it in.
The morning after the greatest day of Kevin’s life, he awoke to the sound of a dog barking. A few seconds later, he heard the sound of little footsteps racing down from the third floor. When he got out of bed, he heard Ellen scream: “Johanna!”
The puppy had been left at their doorstep, its leash tied to their front doorknob.
At about 8:00, just as Ellen was getting ready to leave for school, there was a knock at the door.
Kevin opened it.
The headmaster of The American School stood in the doorway; a crowd of people behind him. “We’ve come to welcome Ellen back to school.”
Ellen came to the door. “This is awesome!”
The path from her door to the street, and then toward the school, was lined with children and adults. Some held signs that said, “Welcome back Ellen.”
Ellen grabbed her backpack, stuffed with all the work she would show to her teachers. “Bye Mom, bye Dad,” she called out as she went out the door.
Kevin and Diane watched as the headmaster led Ellen between the two rows of people, who were cheering and clapping. They saw Ellen accept high fives from her fellow students, and then disappear into the crowd.
“We’re lined up all the way from your house to the school,” Ellen’s math teacher, Maureen Toohey, said to Kevin. “Every kid in the school is out here.”
“And teachers, too,” added Ellen’s home room teacher, Kerrin Poiker.
Kevin looked at Diane. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. He put his arm around her as they watched the crowd following their daughter toward her school. When the throng had gone from sight, Kevin closed the door.
Diane held him tightly as they walked back and sat on the couch, saying nothing.
Johanna jumped up on their laps, licking the wet hands Diane had used to wipe away their tears of joy.
“I promise I’ll never do anything like this again,” Kevin said.
EIGHT MONTHS LATER…
To: KevAnd@aol.com (Kevin Anderson)
From: Raiderfan@carribean.net
Subject: None
Life is good. As you thought, they made good on their promise.
I will never forget you.
But you do owe me 30 Euros, plus interest, for the Super Bowl.
Interested in trying to get it back this season?
; About the Author
Peter Robinson is a former Assistant United States Attorney and Trial Attorney for the U.S. Department of Justice. He is currently a criminal defense lawyer. Among his major trials are the prosecution of the Neo-Nazi group known as “The Order,” and the defense of one of the “Montana Freemen.”
In the summer of 2000, he moved with his family for a year to The Netherlands, where he assisted in the defense of a Bosnian Serb Army General at The Tribunal. He is currently defending the former Chief of Staff of the Yugoslavian Army at the Tribunal, and the former President of the Rwandan Parliament at the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda.
He lives in Santa Rosa, California, with his wife, Jeanne and their 14-year-old daughter, Jennifer.
The TRIBUNAL
A novel by Peter B. Robinson
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The TRIBUNAL
All Rights Reserved © 2004 by Peter B. Robinson
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