Just as Bradford Stone had told the Court, a pattern emerged as the witnesses paraded before the Tribunal and told their stories. At each of the camps, Omarska, Foca, and Keraterm, men in Black Dragon uniforms had come to the facility and beaten, tortured, raped, extorted, and often murdered Muslim prisoners.

Kevin’s cross-examinations were difficult. He had one goal during his questioning – to get the names of the men in black uniforms. He began compiling a list, which he had marked as defense exhibit 5. Whenever a witness identified an alleged Black Dragon, Kevin had them write his name on the list. His only hope was that at the end of all this testimony, none of the names on this list would match the list of real Black Dragons under Draga’s command. So far, that part of his strategy had been successful.

The mood of the court, however, had swung against the defense, as the flood of heart-wrenching stories poured forth. Just before they concluded on Friday, Judge Davidson quizzed Bradford Stone. “We’ve heard the pattern that you have referred to, Mr. Stone. How much more evidence do you have?”

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.”