by Fritz Galt
“You need evidence? Doesn’t a battalion of soldiers marching on Macedonia show involvement?”
He shook his head. “He’s acting in self-defense, pure and simple, unless we can prove otherwise.”
“All you Americans sound like a television show. How much more obvious can things get?”
Once again, she lifted the pistol and took careful aim.
“Dragana, only you can get close enough to Nikic. You’ve already done the work. You’re close to Zoran. You can work him to get to Nikic. We need you. Only you can supply us with the evidence we need.”
She whirled away and pulled the cowl back over her head. Then slowly, with resignation, she handed him her .38.
He didn’t want it, but slipped it under his robe.
“How can we contact you in Belgrade?” he asked.
“Will you be there?”
He hesitated. His visa had been revoked. It wouldn’t be easy. “If you need me.”
She was silent. Seagulls drifted up the sides of the cliff in a strong updraft.
“Who will contact me?” she asked.
“Probably my brother. He looks very different from me.”
“I know. I met him once.”
He was surprised. “Would you recognize his voice?”
“You tend to feel an intimacy with someone who holds a pistol to your head.”
“Right,” he said. “And how can he contact you?”
“Call my grandparents.”
“Ah…” He didn’t want to get into details, but that was no longer possible. “How about your parents in Belgrade?”
She shrugged. “If he wants.”
She looked up at the highest peak of Mt. Athos.
Alec watched a wisp of cloud graze its face and then pass along.
“You didn’t come back for me,” she said in a whisper.
“I’m here because of you.”
“No. You didn’t come because you wanted me.”
In the clarity of the moment, he knew that she was right. If she hadn’t made the point, he might never have admitted it to himself.
He watched her glide in her robe toward a door in the monastery.
He found Scott and Terry positioned against the wall that fronted on the sea. He sat down hard and Dragana’s gun landed in his lap. From there he could see both leaders.
“What do you suppose they’re discussing?” Terry asked.
The two men were studying a map. Only now could Alec see that it was the Karta. They were no longer recreating history. They were carving up the present.
“I suppose the Greek guy is saying something like this: ‘You take Kosovo and Skopje and I’ll take Lake Ohrid and Bitola.’”
“If only I had a gun,” Scott said.
Alec took Dragana’s .38 from under his robe. He felt the polymer grip, fingered the trigger and gazed down the depth of its muzzle. At last, he took a deep breath and heaved it into the sea.
Chapter 36
“Monsieurs,” Gerard announced to the two lawyers from the War Crimes Tribunal. “I want you to listen carefully to this tape recording.”
“Is it the president?” the younger lawyer asked.
“No, but listen to the voices and follow the printed translation in front of you. I don’t expect you to build an entire case around this conversation, but it is a piece to the overall puzzle. Are you ready?”
“First, will you identify and describe the speakers?” the older lawyer said.
“One voice is that of Zoran Rodic, a known racketeer, banker and war profiteer. He leads a paramilitary group, and he either controls or is connected with all the key players in town.”
The lawyers jotted down some notes about Zoran.
“The older man is General Andjelic. The general is a rising star in the JNA. He became Head of Personnel after masterminding a huge public relations coup for the President of Yugoslavia. He arranged to summarily fire forty Serbian generals at a moment when the president needed good international press. Of course, the generals are either retired now or reinstated to their former duties.”
The lawyers scribbled some more notes.
“Was this tape obtained legally?” the older lawyer asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Did the two parties consent to being taped?”
“Sir, in this country there are no laws against recording a conversation or telephone call, opening a letter or stealing a satellite transmission and broadcasting it on TV. There’s no such thing as privacy.”
“You should be above all that.”
“Then how could we operate? Why do you think we’re sitting in this special room? You can’t expect us to build a case under the surveillance conditions that we ourselves are under while we put our primary suspects under surveillance.”
“Gerard, just take this under advisement,” the older lawyer said. “We may not be able to use this tape in a court of law.”
“Jack, show these gentlemen the door,” Gerard said quietly. He folded his hands and didn’t look at the men as they filed out.
When the door whooshed shut, he and Jack were entombed in the silence of their own thoughts.
“Play it again, Jack.”
Jack revived himself and pushed the Play button.
They listened once again to the now familiar conversation sprinkled with comments about the food, the clinking of silverware and the gurgle of wine being poured from a bottle.
After inquiring about the health of Zoran’s father, the general launched into a lengthy speech thanking Zoran for paving the way for his troops. He particularly singled out Zoran’s good work in Athens, Sofia, Skopje and Marseilles, mentioning each city by name. Instead of a formal ceremony, he said, the gracious meal with its sweeping view of the Danube was the government’s unofficial thank you.
However, it did not work.
Zoran accepted the praise like a cat expecting to be petted. But he was in the driver’s seat, and he expected compensation.
“I want Skopje.”
“What do you mean, you want Skopje?” the general said on the tape. “Do you want a seat in their parliament? Do you want to be mayor?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
The general waited for the bad news.
“I want everything in Skopje: the PTT, the power plant, the unions, the military bases, the hotels, the university and the banks. I want Skopje.”
“Well,” the general said. “As you know, these things are decided by our presidency according to proper democratic means.”
“Of course, of course,” Zoran said. “I want it all, democratically.”
“I’ll have to see what the president can do. Once we take the republic, the political process demands steps, and steps take time.”
“How much time do you need?”
“I expect we can have something for you by autumn or early winter.”
“That’s too long,” Zoran said.
There was a pause as food arrived.
“Perhaps before winter?” the general suggested.
Another pause.
“In two months?”
“That would be fine,” Zoran finally said. “Just let me know how I can help.”
“Yes, well, you’ve been invaluable so far.”
“So far? Go ahead. What are you trying to say?”
“I’m sure the president wants part of the republic for himself. After all, Skopje is a major center of culture and trade.”
“Let him come to me,” Zoran said. “If he wants me to give him something, let him come to me.”
“Of course. That’s best. I wouldn’t presume to know what he wants or needs. I’m only telling you what I think will happen.”
“Let him come to me.”
The conversation ended more pleasantly with a discussion of the food.
Gerard turned the tape player off. The room was silent once again.
“If that isn’t a smoking gun, what is?” Jack remarked sourly.
The
telephone rang and Gerard picked it up. It was Mick Pierce.
“Mick, where are you? We need you.”
“I’m closer than you think.”
“We lost touch with you after the demonstrations in Sofia. Lots of new developments here.” He ran down the list of events: fighter jets joining the JNA troops in the south, Zoran’s meeting with the general, and the lawyers rejecting the tape recording as evidence. “They said it wasn’t obtained legally.”
“I’ll show them legally,” Mick muttered. “Don’t take it so bad. You and Jack did all you could.”
“The city is tense,” Gerard said. “Can you get back here and help us put together a case?”
“We’re on our way,” Mick said, and clicked off.
We?
Mick hung up the phone at the roadside telephone booth, and then picked it up again to dial an international number.
In the Pelican Hotel, a telephone buzzed. Someone picked it up and listened without a word.
“Mr. Hammer?” Mick inquired.
“Forget the Mr. Hammer bit. This is Alec.”
“All right, Alec. What did you get on the president?”
“Nothing concrete, but at least I didn’t kill the bastard when I easily could have. He was within range and in my sights. All I had to do was pull the trigger. So I kept my part of the bargain.”
“Any ideas on how we’ll convict him?”
“Dragana’s on her way back to Belgrade. I’ve turned her. She’ll play ball for us. She’s the only one we know with access to Zoran and potentially the president. In fact, she’s got a bit of clout in their circles these days seeing as she brought the Greeks to the bargaining table.”
“Okay, that’s good. How will I contact her?”
“Call her folks. They’re in the phonebook. Just don’t tell them you’re my brother. One thing led to another when I was in Skopje, and her father’s dad blew his wife’s head off.”
“I won’t get into that.”
“Don’t.”
“Now, what did the Yugoslav and Greek leaders decide?”
“Beats me. I don’t read lips. Nothing’s made its way into the news. For all practical purposes, their meeting never took place.”
“Did you see a handshake?”
“A handshake? I practically saw them making out.”
“That’s not good.”
“You’re telling me. Brought a chill to my spine.”
Mick stared at the dusty receiver in his hands. “Where are you headed now?”
“Do you think I’d tell you?”
“No.”
“Where are you headed?” Alec asked.
“Belgrade.”
“I have several problems,” Inspector Stojanovic said over his shoulder, his fine, bony hands guiding the white Lada up the country road toward Belgrade.
Mick was seated beside Natalie in the back seat. “How can I help?” he asked.
“You help? You’re the problem. First, I was ordered to capture you at Kladovo. Then I didn’t. So I was ordered back to Belgrade. Then it appears I was in Bulgaria at a border crossing where I end up breaking the jaw of a JNA driver. So here’s my problem. I don’t know whether to tie you up, kick you out, or shoot you.”
“None of the above, thank you,” Natalie said. “Why did you come to our rescue?”
“One moment, please,” the inspector said. The road converged with a railroad bed to cross a trestle bridge. He jockeyed the car astride the tracks, honked his horn and proceeded onto the narrow bridge.
Mick listened for a train whistle, looked for cars or trucks heading their way.
Now that he was committed, the inspector picked up speed.
A tense minute passed with no option to retreat. Nor did a locomotive, car or truck smash into them.
At last the inspector was past the bridge. He pulled off the train tracks and descended to the country road.
“Boy, that was weird,” Natalie said.
For Mick, it was the scariest moment of his life.
“What was I saying?” the inspector said. “Oh, yes. ‘Why did I come to your rescue?’ I’ve come to recognize that my superior, Bane Djukanovic, is involved in the Macedonian provocation. His actions have led to a state of war, which Serbia will win, of course. Still, I don’t approve of Bane’s methods. Strange as it is, I find myself agreeing with you and wanting to support you.”
“I’m glad for that,” Mick said. “Now what can we do to stop all this?”
“I’m afraid that events over the past day have succeeded in provoking the Serbs. You should have seen the coverage on television last night. The TV studio already had all the anti-Macedonian propaganda queued up.”
Mick watched the broad cornfields, separated by clusters of reeds and farm villages. All the time, he wondered how Ivan Lekic was doing at Studio B.
“You wouldn’t believe the lengths to which the media goes to legitimize itself,” the inspector went on. “RTV Beograd showed footage of the manager of Studio B, who was killed because he went off the air rather than broadcast the official story. His body was riddled by bullets as he tried to escape over the Hungarian border.”
“Who are you talking about?”
“They say it was Ivan Lekic, but I couldn’t make out the body based on the footage. It was nighttime, and hoodlums were dragging his body through the streets of Szeged.”
Mick felt Natalie’s hand squeeze his. She broke into tears.
So they had finally polished off Ivan.
Mick wondered if Petra had made it out alive. Mick had told her husband to air the massacre of Serbs in Macedonia. But Ivan apparently had elected not to cover further Macedonian atrocities when the government asked him to. To what extent was Mick to blame?
The inspector continued, unaware of the trauma his news had caused in the back seat. “Our president is in Greece discussing the situation with the Greek Prime Minister. I’m sure they’ll agree to the obvious course of action.”
“I believe they already have,” Mick said, with a sinking sense of despair.
“Yes, the war machine has been set in motion,” the inspector said, and glanced at Mick in his mirror. “And there’s nothing we can do to stop it.”
Mick let the wave of helplessness wash over him. He didn’t want to talk any longer. All he wanted was action. Decisive action.
And his weapon was not a gun. It was evidence, direct, incontrovertible evidence.
The inspector began to hum a tune.
What an interesting specimen, Mick thought. The inspector could talk of conspiracies and bloodshed at one moment, then put it completely out of mind the next.
The guy seemed like a scientist, distanced from his subject. Or a detective, continually gathering clues. That was it!
Mick cleared his throat. “Tell me, Inspector. You said that you realize now that Bane is involved in the Macedonian provocation. Do you have any evidence to support that, enough for the War Crimes Tribunal to take him to court?”
“Evidence? My life’s work is gathering evidence. Since we last met, I’ve been gathering direct written orders from Bane to our staff. Beyond that, my staff has begun to assemble all the requests Bane has made for the past year. You see, it’s second nature for bureaucrats to collect information on presidential appointees. You never know who’ll request it.”
“Enough evidence to convict Bane of war crimes?”
“Together, they paint the picture of a sadist and a man driven mad by power.”
“A criminal?”
“Yes. A criminal.”
“Perfect,” Mick said.
“But what can we do with that evidence?” the inspector asked.
“You just gather the evidence,” Mick said. “And leave the rest to me.”
Natalie looked up, her eyes still rimmed by redness. The car was bouncing and jostling them on uneven pavement, but she held his gaze.
“Do I see a plan taking shape?” she asked.
“Yup. For the first time in a
long while, there may be cause for hope.”
The inspector glanced at them briefly, then resumed humming his tune.
Chapter 37
The lights of New Belgrade wavered in the heat outside the Grand Hyatt. Inside the hotel’s Italian restaurant, the cluster of tables was dwarfed by huge, round pillars.
Like everyone else in the room, it was hard for Mick to ignore one diner, the country’s president with his white pompadour. Nikic was seated at a prominent table in the center of the candle-lit room. He was a shy, easily amused man. But when he spoke in his commanding voice, the rest of the room paused to listen. Bane Djukanovic sat jovially across from the president as they shared their obviously long-term friendship.
“Familiar faces,” Natalie said as they were seated at a table for two.
“Look over there,” Mick said.
She followed the direction of his gaze and drew in her breath. At the corner table sat two men snarfing their food. One was a MUP agent from with his arm in a sling, and the other was Inspector Stojanovic.
The inspector caught Mick and Natalie’s glance and nodded almost imperceptibly.
Mick turned toward another table while Natalie perused the wine list. There sat the same two lawyers who investigated cases for the UN War Crimes Tribunal.
“How about some Postup tonight?” Natalie suggested.
“Sure. Lovely wine,” he said.
A waiter came, discussed the menu options, took their order, and hurried away to the kitchen.
Slumped gloomily at a table by himself sat Jack Hamlin, not even acknowledging Mick and Natalie’s presence in the room.
Across the room from Jack sat Gerard Vaillant, garbed in a dinner jacket and scarf. He looked refreshed from a swim in the Hyatt’s indoor pool.
Mick and Natalie’s food and wine arrived promptly, and he dove into his selection, a couple of giant prawns.
Conversation at the president’s table was animated. Nikic seemed in good spirits and happy to have moved out of his normal isolation. Perhaps being back in his own domain after his trip to Greece and had lowered his guard.
When the president stood to leave, pulling a napkin from his shirt collar and tossing it nonchalantly onto the table, Mick could feel everyone in the room tense up.
