The Tribunal

CHAPTER 15

“Santa found me even in a hotel!” Ellen shouted.

She burst out of bed in their hotel room, flipped on the light, and looked at two wrapped Christmas presents at the foot of her bed. “Can I open them?”

Kevin looked at the clock radio on the night stand. It was 5:03 a.m. “Santa came early, it’s still dark out. But go ahead and open them.”

He and Diane struggled to clear their heads and open their eyes. They sat up in bed and watched Ellen attack the wrapping paper.

Her first present was a “Talk Girl” portable tape player. “This is great! Now, I can record messages in Holland and send them to my friends in Santa Rosa.”

Ellen put the tape player aside and opened Santa’s second present. The second gift was a “Password Diary.” It was a journal for writing in, but to open it you had to say a password into the microphone on the side. It had voice recognition technology, so only the holder of the diary could get in, even if someone stole the password. Ellen was delighted. “I love it!” she squealed, hugging it to her chest.

Ellen tried out the diary right away.

Kevin was thankful that Santa had included batteries. He imagined himself driving around Santa Rosa at 5:30 a.m. on Christmas looking for a place that sold batteries. After Kevin, Diane, and Ellen opened their presents to each other, it was still early.

Kevin decided to jog up to Lake Ilsanjo in Annadel State Park. He started out fine, but found himself struggling once he got to the hills. He had been running in a flat country for the past six months, and he could definitely feel the difference. When he finally reached the lake at the top, Kevin’s mind began working on how to approach William Evans in Las Vegas. He decided to get some advice from Bud Marcello.

Two days later, after getting Bud’s input and assistance, Kevin flew to Las Vegas. When he arrived, he was met by two beefy escorts in a black Lincoln Town Car. A broad-shouldered, clean-cut young man, who looked like an NFL lineman, got out of the passenger’s side. “You Kevin Anderson?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Striker. Hop in.” He held the door open.

Kevin got in the backseat. The driver turned around and said, “Nice to meet you, Mr. Anderson. I’m Jim Timmons from LST Security.” He was about the same size as the passenger, which translated to huge and muscular.

Kevin knew from Bud that both escorts were former elite military and worked for CEOs and entertainers who paid top dollar for high-level security. Kevin did not have to pay for their services this morning – Bud had called it a “trade out.” He hadn’t asked what Bud would be trading back. He didn’t want to know.

“Your man’s at work this morning at the Las Vegas Hilton in the second floor security office,” Timmons said as they headed down the Las Vegas Strip. “What do you want us to do?”

“I’d just like you guys to come in with me and wait in the reception area. I want Mr. Evans to see you, but I need to meet with him alone.”

“Ten-four.”

They drove to the front of the Hilton. The driver parked the car right in front of the hotel. Kevin saw him slip the bellman a bill. Greasing palms was the way business was done on the Strip.

As they took the escalator to the second floor, Kevin turned on the mini tape recorder he had brought in his jacket pocket, and spoke into it: “This is Kevin Anderson, today’s date is December 27^th, and I am in the Las Vegas Hilton Hotel to meet with William Evans, formerly of the CIA.”

When they got to the suite of offices on the second floor of the Hilton, the three men approached the receptionist. “I’m Kevin Anderson. I’m here to see William Evans.”

“Is he expecting you?”

“No, but something urgent came up and I need to see him as soon as possible.”

The receptionist dialed a number on her telephone console. Kevin could hear her talking to Evans. She put the phone on her shoulder and looked at Kevin. “What is this regarding?”

“I’m afraid it’s personal. It has to do with his previous employment.”

The woman returned to the telephone and repeated what Kevin had said. Kevin hoped that he would not have to be more insistent. He was relieved when the receptionist hung up the phone and said, “Mr. Evans will be with you in a few moments.”

Kevin stood between his two new friends as they waited for Evans to appear. In a few minutes, a short, tanned, gray-haired man came striding down the corridor from behind the receptionist. From a distance, Kevin quickly sized up William Evans; late 50’s, former military, in shape, no-nonsense guy.

Evans looked at Kevin, dwarfed by his two companions.

“Mr. Evans, I’m Kevin Anderson. Thank you for seeing me without an appointment. I’m a lawyer from Santa Rosa, California, and I represent a friend of yours who is in trouble. Can I talk with you in private for a few minutes?”

Evans looked at the business card that Kevin handed him.

“Come into the conference room,” Evans said, leading Kevin into a large room near the lobby.

Kevin’s two escorts – who had given him a small radio-beam “panic button” to depress if he needed them immediately – remained by the receptionist.

Once inside the room, Kevin’s eyes darted to a bank of closed-circuit televisions on one side of the room. The televisions monitored different locations on the casino floor.

Kevin and Evans sat down at a large table. “I represent a man you know as Draga. I was appointed to be his lawyer by the War Crimes Tribunal in The Hague.”

Evans’ face registered neither surprise nor recognition.

“He needs your help.” Kevin paused and waited for Evans to speak.

The man’s face was a mask. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Evans denial came a bit too late, however, and was delivered without any hint of surprise.

Kevin wished he could have been videotaping their meeting.

“I don’t have time to play cat and mouse. My client’s trial starts the week after next. I want to show you some papers that I received.”

Kevin took out copies of Evans’ reports and placed them on the table.

Evans looked at the reports without saying a word. Beads of sweat began to form on his temple.

“Mr. Evans, my client risked his life for you and your agency. The least you can do is talk to me.”

“Alright,” Evans turned to Kevin. “I’ll talk to you. Your client was the CIA’s best asset in Yugoslavia. I know because I was his contact, as you can see. But you’ll never get me to say that in court or anywhere else.”

“Draga’s going on trial for crimes that he is not responsible for. That’s why I came to you. Can’t something be done to help him?”

“He ran that risk from the beginning.” Evans looked Kevin directly in the eyes. “I can’t help him now.”

“What about this?” Kevin pointed to the report that mentioned the list of Black Dragons. “Can you tell me where can I get a list of the members of the Black Dragons?”

Evans studied the report. “I don’t know where you got these reports,” he said, shaking his head, “but I’m sure as hell not going to help you get more.”

Evans stood up. “I’m afraid that I’ve got another meeting. It was nice meeting you,” he said, extending his hand mechanically. “Don’t come back.”

Kevin extended his hand, as well. In it was a subpoena.

“This is a subpoena for you to testify at Draga’s trial, Mr. Evans. You have now officially been served. I had hoped that there was some other way you would help, but if not, this is what I have to do.”

Evans’ face reddened. “You’re a dead man, Mr. Anderson.”

Kevin’s heartbeat quickened.

He followed Evans out the door into the lobby.

“Oh, Mr. Evans,” Kevin took the tape recorder out of his pocket and held it up. “I’d be more careful about what I say in the future. Copies of your reports are already in the hands of someone I trust in the national news media. If anything happens to me, your picture will be on the cover of Time magazine.”

Evans stormed toward his office as Kevin rejoined his two bodyguards. That last bit about the tape and the news media had been Bud’s idea for keeping Kevin alive. The bodyguards were to get Kevin and his tape safely out of the hotel.

“Let’s go, guys,” said Kevin. “I think I hit a sensitive nerve.”

The Lincoln pulled away from the Hilton with Kevin safely in the back seat, on his way to the airport. His heart was still beating rapidly from the excitement. He rewound the tape and played it.

To his relief, it had recorded perfectly, even the “you’re-a-dead-man” part.

By the time he returned to Holland, Kevin was seeing his client in a new light. Whatever his combination of motives, Draga had been helping the good guys.

His first morning back, Kevin headed for the prison. When he got into the interview room, Draga looked happy to see him, then disappointed. “What, no food?”

“It’s still breakfast time. The pizza places aren’t open yet.”

“I haven’t had a good pannekoeken in months. You’re letting me down.”

Kevin pulled out the football results for the past three weeks. “I’ve got some more bad news for you. You owe me 40 more Euros. The Raiders lost two in a row.”

Draga smiled. “The playoffs are coming.”

Kevin shook his head. “Pretty soon you’ll be saying ‘Wait till next year!’”

“I’ve got this all figured out. You’re doomed.”

“I really need to talk to you about something important,” Kevin said. He took out William Evans’ reports and put them in front of Draga. “I want you to take a few minutes to look at these.”

Draga looked down at the papers. He was silent. He began reading the first report, then flipped through the others. “What are these?” The bravado was gone from his voice.

“I think you know. These are reports of an American CIA agent named William Evans, who acknowledged to me that he was your handler.”

Draga was silent – an admission to Kevin that the reports were true.

“I had a meeting with Evans when I was back in the United States. I’d like you to listen to our conversation.”’

Kevin took out the recorder, put the tape inside, and pushed the play button.

When the short tape finished, Kevin looked squarely into Draga’s eyes. “I haven’t asked you to trust me before, but I need you to trust me now. This information can make a huge difference at your trial. The war crimes law makes a commander liable for the actions of his men only where he did not try to prevent the crimes from occurring. You’re not guilty of anything if you in fact tried to alert the CIA in advance. I don’t know what your plan is, but if you think that the CIA is somehow quietly going to get you out of all this – after you’re convicted – I think you are making a big mistake.”

“The Tribunal is not going to let me go no matter what proof we have,” Draga said finally. “All this will do is get me and my family killed.”

Kevin took a deep breath. A crack in Draga’s wall had emerged. “I’m not going to use this information without your approval. I promise you that. But if we don’t use it at your trial, you’ll probably spend the rest of your life in prison.”

Draga looked pained. “They have taken care of me before. I have no choice but to trust them now.”

“Do you have any promises from them in writing?”

“Of course not.”

“What is their promise?”

Draga hesitated. “Someone from the CIA came here to see me shortly after I was arrested.”

“Name?”

“Pete Barnes. He said after I’m found guilty, I’m to be transferred to the U.S. to serve my sentence. One day, they announce I’ve been killed in prison. They take me out of there and relocate me and my family somewhere else.”

Kevin thought that over. “What if they don’t keep their word? Or what if they can’t put all that in motion? What then?”

“I have to trust them. I have no other choice.”

“Yes, you do have a choice. You can help me win your acquittal.”

Draga looked at Kevin as if seeing him for the first time.

“In my twenty years in federal law enforcement,” Kevin went on, “I’ve never seen the CIA spring anyone from a prison in the United States.”

Draga exhaled. “What do you suggest?”

“My first instinct is to run into court with this and tell everyone you’re innocent.”

“That’ll get me killed for sure.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Maybe we can use these reports, and this tape, as a bargaining chip to get me some kind of written guarantee that I will be cut loose.”

“The CIA won’t sign something like that. They know a copy will end up at the Washington Post. No, I think we should bring this out in court, maybe in a closed session. It would be a huge embarrassment to the U.S. government if it is revealed that they had advance knowledge of attacks in Bosnia and did nothing to prevent them.”

“You’re still really naive, Kevin. I don’t trust these people at the Tribunal. They’ll cover it up. I’d rather try to get something in writing from the CIA, and be found guilty.”

“But you’re not guilty. It’s not right for you to be convicted for something you are not responsible for.”

“What are our chances of winning the trial with the CIA information?”

“Truthfully, I don’t know” Kevin replied. “The judges are expected to find you guilty. That’s the norm in the Tribunal, and you’re one of their biggest prizes. But if the truth came out, I’d like to think they would do the right thing.”

“What are our chances of winning the trial without it?”

“Right now, close to zero. Those odds might improve if I can get my hands on the roster of Black Dragons.”

Kevin and Draga’s eyes locked. Kevin wondered if his ego was getting in the way. He wanted to win. “We need to really think this through,” Kevin said. “I promise I won’t use this without your permission. I don’t want you worrying about that.”

“I trust you, Kevin.”

Kevin glowed when he heard Draga say those words. “How about helping me get the roster of the real Black Dragons for starters?”

Draga was silent for a minute. “Wait here.” He waved to the camera, signaling for the guards. Kevin got up as well. When the guard came, Draga said, “I need to get some legal materials from my room for my lawyer.”

Kevin was pleased. He hoped Draga wasn’t going to get the sports section.

When Draga returned he handed Kevin a stack of papers. It was a computerized list, in alphabetical order, of the names and dates of birth of all of the Black Dragons.

“This is the same list I gave to Evans a long time ago.”

Kevin looked through the list. He did not see Victor Vidic or any other names that he recognized as having committed war crimes.

“Thank you,” Kevin said. “This means a lot.”

Draga took a deep breath. “I guess we have crossed a bridge today.”

Kevin nodded. “Yes. I’ve been hoping for this since the day we met.”

Draga nodded. “Do I still get pepperoni pizza?”

“You bet. But there’s no way I’m forgiving your gambling debts.”

Draga’s face broke into a grin. “What do we do next?”

“Well, I imagine that we’ll be hearing from the CIA. Why don’t I see if they’ll put your deal in writing so you can make them honor it down the road, if that’s what you want to go for.”

“That’s what I want to do. Getting the deal in writing would be very good.”

“I don’t like the idea of an innocent man being found guilty.”

“Do you like the idea of an innocent man being found dead?”

“No.”

Draga got up from his chair. “You’ve been pretty lucky at football, sport. Let’s see how you play hardball.”