Sandcastle Memories.pdf

DEDICATION

Sandcastle Memories Copyright © 2004 by Bob Paul and Susan Tracy Fiction ISBN trade paperback: 0-9744938-9-9 All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or book reviews. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. This book was printed in the United States.

Sandcastle Memories is dedicated to the memory of Irene Smith, with best wishes to the Smith Family of Alberta, Dan, Sean and Matt. To the Paul Family: Marianne and Samantha and the Tracy Family: Max, Heather, Clark, John, Spencer and Tristin; thank you for your encouragement and support and most of all, for putting up with us. We wish to express our appreciation to Sharon Burris, Cindy Groenewould, Slobodanka Lekic, Joy Viveen, Monique Garnett and Donna Schram. Also, thanks to the members of the Southern Oklahoma Writers Association and the Kitchener Thursday Night Editing Circle.

For inquiries or to order additional copies of this book, contact: Gardenia Press 501 Kenwood Drive Round Lake Park, IL 1-866 -861-9443 www.gardeniapress.com

We also wish to dedicate Sandcastle Memories in the memory of Elizabeth Collins who was our editor and the president of Gardenia Press. We are grateful to Elizabeth’s husband Bob Collins who carried on Elizabeth’s dreams of publishing.

Sandcastle Memories

CHAPTER 1 A scream ambushed David before he surrendered to sleep. A moment later, he realized the scream was his own. Standing in a room, blindfolded, wrists chained, his left hand gripped a live grenade. Dropping the explosive would reduce the room to rubble. He held death in the palm of his hand, each moment fighting back the growing sense of terror. God, had it only been that morning that his world was normal? ******* That morning, David had driven the armored Land Rover to a small Muslim village on the outskirts of Sarajevo, after having checked with UN Peacekeeping Operations on the most recent activity. Other than regular sniper fire, UN personnel reported that the area was calm. Still, David felt uneasy driving the desolate road. His tension increased after rounding a corner to find a group of armed men standing at a roadblock. Their ragged uniforms suggested they weren’t army regulars, but militias. They tended to shoot first and ask questions later. Drunk by noon was a regular event for them. He brought the Rover to a halt when the men clustered around. Events proceeded smoothly for the first few minutes as David handed out packs of cigarettes as a goodwill gesture. The shabby soldiers went through a normal routine of checkpoint duties as they reviewed his documents. A small man in an oversized uniform joined the group. He spoke English, appearing to have more authority than the others.

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The tension intensified as a rapid succession of questions rolled off the man’s lips. “Who are you? Where are you from? What are you doing here?” asked the soldier. Though, he tried to answer the questions truthfully, David’s answers didn’t matter. The man had already decided he was a spy. Under the authority given by the UN Security Resolution, Serbian forces faced widespread NATO air strikes for attacks on Sarajevo or any other remaining safe area. The resolution was reason enough for the Serbs to give him a hard time. They no longer viewed the UN as a neutral party. The man shouted orders. Soldiers rifled through the Rover, scattering David’s personal possessions on the ground. He was shoved against the vehicle at gunpoint. While one soldier emptied David’s pockets, another grabbed his arms, tying them behind him with rope. Struggling with his attackers, his resistance was subdued with a blow to the kidney from the butt of a rifle. A car screeched to a halt. The car door opened, two uniformed men shoved David into the back seat between soldiers who then tied a bandanna over his eyes. The blindfold struck fear in him. When they arrived at the Serbian compound, David insisted that he was part of a peaceful humanitarian mission brought to Sarajevo by the UN to feed the people. Silently, he chastised himself for failing to fill out a report on his planned excursion. This meant no one knew where he was. Once again, he had broken the rules. To him, rules were just excuses for not getting things done. UN headquarters didn’t understand that much of his success depended on quick decision-making. Until now, David had gotten through Serb checkpoints by bluffing, bribing, and threatening. If he played by their rules, people would die before he could reach them. The whole UN operation tried to appear larger, more formidable than it was. A handful of UN civilian personnel and peacekeepers were mere window-dressings. It hadn’t taken long for the Serbs to figure out that the UN was all bark and no bite.

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Listening for footsteps, David hoped for release, if not from the room and chains, then at least from the grenade. He suffered bouts of spasms and shaking, fading in and out of reality, from past to present to past. His memories seeking Anna and their precious sandcastles. David stepped back and walked around the sandcastle. He examined the shaved corners, the tower, the roofline, the carved windows and doors. This was the first sandcastle they had built on the beach since last fall. “What do you think?” Anna asked. “That I’m glad to be with you,” he said. The instant he spoke the words, he regretted them, blushing and turning away. “You think?” Anna laughed. “We need to work on the arches, they’re our weakest part,” David said. “We have plenty of time, though, before the contest in August.” David avoided looking at Anna. Keeping his gaze fixed on the sandcastle as they worked, and limiting his comments to carving and technique. Anna nodded and threw out suggestions. A feeling of satisfaction came over him. It was a good castle. Then, Anna said, “I’m ready for a break.” She stood and walked toward the water. “It’s too cold,” he protested. “We can wade in the shallows, David. It shouldn’t be too bad.” David recognized the look. No matter what he said, she was determined to go in. He decided to wade in first. The cool liquid made him gasp, struggling into the water up to his knees, then turned around to see Anna still on shore. “Are you coming in or what?” he asked. “Not me. It’s too cold.” Anna said, laughing. Moving slowly toward the beach, he waded close to her, splashing. Anna screamed at the icy water. David had expected her to run away; instead, she ran toward him. They splashed each other until they doubled over with laughter, shivering in the cool air.

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“Are ya cold?” David asked. “I never get cold,” Anna said, her teeth chattering. Abruptly, his thoughts returned to the grenade as loud footsteps shattered his fragile peace. The cell door crashed open. Almost at once, a hand closed over David’s, and the grenade was removed. The sudden action caused his heart to race. He was confused and frightened, but determined not to show it. Unchained, he was led blindfolded to a cot, forced to sit. He tried to lie down, to stretch out. “Sit up!” a voice said. Someone struck him on the back of the head, and he instinctively curled into a fetal position. A series of blows rained over his body as he was dragged up to sit. Tears of frustration and anger rolled down his cheeks. “You will tell us everything.” “I already have,” David said. “Shut up! Only answer questions when asked. There is no one coming to your rescue. No one! Do you understand that? Your life is hanging by a thread, my friend.” Rough hands jerked his head, as they removed the blindfold. Blinking against bright light, his vision cleared, now seeing three men in his tiny cell. David could make out a few words here and there as they talked among themselves. “Izvolite!” “Sta?” “Paso.” “Dajte je mi to molim vas.” Silently, David watched as they passed his passport around. The English-speaking man appeared to be in his late forties, the insignia on his army uniform identifying him as a colonel. He watched as the man opened a file, taking a pen from his breast pocket. “So, you’re Canadian, eh?” the colonel said, then laughed. “My Serbian brothers don’t get the joke. Do you know what passports the CIA use?” David shook his head.

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“Of course, you do. Canadian. What year was Canada’s Confederation?” “1867,” David answered. “Proves nothing, my friend. We know that the CIA is well briefed. Why don’t you make it easy on yourself? Where were you before you came to Bosnia?” The humiliation of the interrogation was hard for David, who seldom spoke of his past. “I’ve worked all over. I spent time in Africa, Uganda, Ethiopia.” “What did you do there?” the colonel asked. “I developed an uncontaminated source of water. We helped develop wells in village communities.” “Are you a Christian?” the colonel asked, his eyes, alert and observant, fixed on David without flinching. “What does that have to do with anything?” David asked, feeling his anger build. “Answer the question!” The question annoyed him. He preferred to keep his political and religious convictions private. There were enough people in the world who spewed politics and religion. He held to the conviction that beliefs do not feed people. “For what it’s worth, I was raised a Christian.” “So, you are not Muslim?” “No,” David replied. “But you help the Muslims?” “I help the people of Sarajevo.” “You are a criminal in the pay of the CIA and Muslim Turks,” the colonel said, snapping back. David stared in disbelief. “I can put my hands on $50,000 worth of German marks.” “Money!” the colonel said, grabbing David by the collar and spitting in his face. “You think this is about money? Your captivity has nothing to do with money. Our struggle is about self-determination, and the right to choose to live like any other country in the world.” He released David’s collar, letting him fall back hard onto the cot.

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The colonel turned and stomped away, continuing his rant. David could no longer follow what he was saying. The tones were ominous. Glancing at the door, he did some quick calculations. Three steps. Then what? They would catch him and beat him, again. “So, Mr. Warren, are you ready to do business?” the colonel asked. David refused to answer. “We know you are CIA, Mr. Warren.” The colonel pulled up a chair and faced him. Opening a file, he flipped through the pages. “I have an American report that mentions your name.” “What does it say?” “Mr. Warren, I won’t remind you again that I ask the questions.” David knew the colonel was trying to scare him. If someone had mentioned him in a report, then the report would have revealed that he wasn’t a spy. They were grasping at straws. “I know you must be very tired, Mr. Warren. We are going to leave you now. Later, you will be brought a journal and pen. You will write down everyone you have contacted since arriving in our country. Do you understand?” David didn’t understand, but he nodded anyway. They left his room, pulling the door shut hard. Exhausted, but relieved, he lay on the bare cot, curled up in a ball. His clothes were wet causing him to shiver. How long will I be in this miserable place? A week, a month? There was no sense in thinking about it that now. One way or another he would get through this. There was no other option. Lying on the thin mattress, he closed his eyes and thought back on better days. Through the numbness of terror, a single name burned in his mind, Anna. Her name eased his anxiety, so he sought Anna to calm his growing terror. They walked along the shore, collecting firewood, happy to be together in the twilight. As the darkness grew, the river took on the qualities of a mirror, the moon and stars reflecting off the surface. David glanced at Anna, noticing her chills. “Let’s sit here, Anna,” he suggested, draping a blanket around

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her shoulders. She clutched the blanket tight and watched him set about starting a fire. Within a few moments, warmth had returned to her face. He sat down beside her, content with the peaceful silence of being together. “Do you know what you want?” she asked. “Yes.” “What?” “This calm place with you. I want to know it’s here ... that it exists and I can find it from time to time.” Watching Anna smile in the fading light, he wondered if she would always be part of his life. In the west, a full moon lit the sky. Earlier, he was restless, but tonight within reach of Anna, he was calm, studying her silhouette in the moonlight. The river glowed as the blue-black sky wrapped around them. “What are you thinking?” Anna asked. “How beautiful you are.” “Oh, really!” she laughed. “Yes, really.” “I’m glad you think so.” “I know, so.” The play of words was their dance providing warmth and comfort.

CHAPTER 2 Anna walked in the front door of her apartment after a long day at the Chicago Tribune. While tired, she took pride knowing that she had written a good article today. The drive home along Lake Michigan had helped her unwind. She dropped her purse on the table beside the door, hung her keys on the rack and on her way to the kitchen, turned on the stereo to her favorite jazz station, performing the same ritual she did every night. She opened the fridge and took out a bottle of water. Friends teased her about her drink of choice, but she took it with good humor. As she poured the contents over ice, the relaxing sounds of clarinets filled her home. Taking her drink into the living room, she flipped the switch on the answering machine. There were two hang-ups and a call from a vinyl siding salesman. Once back in her apartment after work, she avoided contact with the outside world. Dealing with so many people every day had created in her a longing for quiet, relaxed evenings. Oak shelves ran wall to wall around her living room. They held beloved books and treasures collected on journeys throughout the world. An elephant carving from Africa stood among the collection of Russian Babushka dolls and a dozen hand-printed fans from Japan. Wearily, she strode across the white carpet, collapsing into the pillows of the overstuffed burgundy sofa she’d saved a year to buy. When her brothers visited Chicago, they teased her as she moved glass to higher shelves out of the reach of their small children. She lived in a museum, they’d said.

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She didn’t regret the decision to pursue a career over marriage and children. Her chosen path of journalism satisfied her desire for expression. But lately, she felt a growing desire to share her life with someone. Anna dated occasionally, but sometimes wondered if men were worth the trouble. If he requires more care than a houseplant, he’s history, she had joked with her friends. They knew she wasn’t good with houseplants. Under her care, plants turned from healthy green to wizened sticks within weeks. The ol’ biological clock had started ticking when she turned thirty-five last fall. Lately, she’d noticed babies popping up all over the place; babies in strollers on North Michigan Avenue, babies along the waterfront, smiling mothers and fathers cooing over their infants. This conspiracy of mind and body had nothing to do with reality. There was a lot more to a baby than playing house. A baby was a big commitment; a commitment she wasn’t ready to make. Anna pushed away the baby thoughts, glancing at the newspaper sitting on the table in front of her. UN STAFFER MISSING IN BOSNIA SARAJEVO (AP)

On Thursday, a UN civilian mission staff member was reported missing in Bosnia. The man, whose name and nationality have not been released, was reportedly on a routine tour of Sarajevo.

Uneasiness tugged at Anna. David’s last posting was Sarajevo. She was glad he was now in France, training UN Peacekeepers. He’d indicated in his last letter, a month ago, that he started his new job May first. When he was in transition between locations, letters were few and far between. The story shouldn’t bother her because David wasn’t missing, but maybe she should investigate some more. As a journalist, she wanted to know who was missing and where they were from. She

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had covered stories in several countries. Dual citizenship was a great advantage in getting the Tribune to send her overseas, often to places where Americans weren’t welcome. Her Canadian passport came in handy and she was feeling this urge to get back out there again. Anna grabbed the phone and punched in the number for the Trib Research Department. “Rudy speaking,” “Hi ya, Rudy. Must be busy if they have you on the phones tonight.” “Anna! How is my favorite gal?” “Bet you say that to all the women.” “I only have eyes for you, Anna.” “Please, how many times has that line worked?” “Umm, I think never. Maybe I need more practice. Please practice with me. Make me a new man, darlin’.” Anna laughed. “Aren’t you seeing someone at the moment?” “That was last week.” “Oh, excuse me. I forgot a week is about your limit.” “Ouch. That was cold.” “Sorry, Rudy. Can you do me a favor?” “Depends.” “On what?” “What will ya do for me?” “What would you like?” “Dinner?” “Lunch.” “It’s a deal. What can I do for you now, darlin’?” “There’s an Associated Press story about a UN staffer missing in Bosnia. Do you have someone who can track it down and give me some background?” “Do you think there’s a story there?” “Don’t know yet. Just a hunch.” “Okay, Anna, we’ll see what we can do. I’ll bring what I have for you to lunch tomorrow.” “Thanks.”

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“No problem. See ya tomorrow.” “Bye, Rudy.” As Anna hung up, she reflected on whether or not there could be a story in Bosnia. Things were heating up there, but most of the reporting was from British journalists. What could one more journalist do? Given sufficient press though, perhaps she could make a contribution that could influence the public and policy makers. Hopeless causes were her specialty and the stories she wrote had impact. Sometimes, her articles captured the attention of television journalists, which could help a cause. There were good people out there, and when they got the information about a particular disaster, it had an impact on humanitarian relief. Anna had spent the duration of the Gulf War in the Middle East. The journalists there were under army command and it had been frustrating. There were only so many stories one could write about digging trenches during the preparation for the Mother of All Battles. Since the war was covered at every direction in the Gulf, Anna had concentrated on the issues of women in the military. Her stories had brought about an awareness that made conditions a little better. With a wide yawn, Anna turned off lights and headed for bed. Out of the corner of her eye, as she passed, she noticed a small sandcastle David had given her four years ago when she had lost her baby. She hesitated as the painful memory resurfaced. Crying, Anna pulled the pillow to her face, muffling her sobs of grief. The sharpness of her loss contrasted with her thoughts earlier in the week when she had considered names for her baby. There was no baby now. No one except David would ever know. David had flown in from New York and escorted her home from the hospital. The Tribune staff and her family were unaware of her pregnancy. She promised herself never to intrude on people’s grief for the sake of a story ever again. “Anna,” David called softly, from the hallway, “may I come in?” Her first instinct was to tell him to go away. She tossed her tangled black hair from her tear-streaked face. David was calling from the

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other side of her door, not thousands of miles away as was the usual course of their lives. “Anna?” “Yes, come in,” she said, unable to keep her voice from breaking. She was sure that she was ready to face him, yet, the instant he came through the door, she burst into tears again. In a moment, he was holding her tight, rocking her in his arms. After a few minutes, he motioned to pull away, but she gripped him tight, not wanting to let him go. “You need something to eat. I’m just going to the kitchen,” he said quietly, stroking her long hair. “Stay still for once David, just stay still!” “Okay.” A whisper left his lips. They had understood each other from childhood. A word never had to be spoken. They were joined at the hip … friends who had played on the beach on slow summer days… she, the solemn child with her feet solidly on the ground, never believing until it was done. David was laughter, dance, and always the dreamer. They had kept each other balanced by meeting someplace in the middle. Anna picked up the sandcastle. Closing her eyes and hugging it close to her, she could almost feel David’s presence. She opened her eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. The sandcastle was moved to a more prominent position on the shelf. Her home was a place of memories, a place she felt safe. Even when she was alone, she was among friends.

Sandcastle Memories

CHAPTER 3 David sat on his cot, his back against the cold brick wall. The room was so dark he didn’t know whether his eyes were open or closed. What he did know was that he had few choices here. Either comply with his captor’s orders or suffer the consequences. Keeping his mind active was critical in order to meet the psychological challenges of boredom and unpredictable attacks. Accepting his confinement was part of his plan to adapt to the situation. Making a checklist of priorities would assist him in maintaining self-control. Physical exercise, relaxation and anti-tension techniques would help. Accustomed to stressful situations, David was determined to adjust. Often when he had a rough day in Sarajevo, he would think about Anna or his grandfather. Remembering conversations from his childhood helped him to wind down. His grandfather had lived with him from age six until his death when David was thirteen. Sometimes he thought he could hear Grandpa’s voice. Thinking back, he recalled how it had comforted him. After school, David headed to his grandfather’s door and knocked. The door opened and his grandfather stood there, sleepyeyed and smelling of alcohol. David’s heart sank. “Ah, Davie, come in,” he said. “How are you today?” David asked. “Never been better, me boy.” David walked into the room and sat on the couch. Opera music played softly in the background. The music brought back memories of when he was younger. Often, he had fallen asleep on his grandfather’s

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lap, listening to the same music. “I know that face. What’s wrong, Davie?” “Nothing.” “Ah, it’s my drinking, isn’t it?” He had never talked to his grandfather about it before. David gave an uncomfortable smile, nodding. “Aye, it’s okay. Should have talk to ya about it before. Want you to know that drinking, as much as I do, is wrong. That I know. I tell you, not to justify, rather just explain some of my thinking about it. There was my family, Davie. Also there was the farm, horses, cows, fields to plough and chores to do and the whole family working together. Bet you can’t imagine your Mom milking a cow. Never had any money, but my family never went hungry and I am proud of that. Your grandma never allowed drinking in the house. She never approved of alcohol from the day we first met. A hard-shelled Baptist woman from England, she was. Ah, but I made her laugh, sure enough. But me boy, I grew up in Ireland, where a drink after a hard day’s work is as natural as mother’s milk; where the boys of the field put the day behind them with laughter and song. Their company was something to look forward to, Davie, while scraping out a meager existence on land that was impossible. We’d laugh at the tall tales we’d tell each other. That was put behind when we said our I-do’s. Mostly, anyway. Still sneaked a drink or two when the boys and me gathered in the barn to swap stories. Grandma knew it and never approved. She’d get so stern with me when she smelled it on my breath. Ah, but an Irishman’s charm always wins out. Jesus, Mary and Holy Saint Joseph, I’d tease her ‘til she laughed so hard, she cried. Such sweet music, her laugh. Do ya know why I play opera music, Davie?” David shook his head. “It is her, Davie. All I knew was old Irish songs, but your grandma loved music and there was always a little bit of music in the background, playing on that old wind-up phonograph or the radio. Not loud, like nowadays. Our music was so low and so soft, barely heard in truth.” “Ya, see, Davie, her laugh is gone, the farm is gone, the children

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have their own lives. Here, I’m left with only my memories. No regrets, be sure of that. Drinking in the rivers of time because the music and my yesterdays have past. Although old, I’m still capable of building some new memories.” “Face the wall!” A man’s harsh voice pierced David’s memories, shattering his fragile peace. David stumbled in the dark to comply. His heart pounded. Taking a few deep breaths, he attempted to remain calm, hearing rustling and rattling from behind him. A light came on as men whispered with each other. Then the door closed and he heard the lock being jammed into place. Counting to one hundred slowly, before he turned around. A single light bulb hanging from the ceiling lit the room. His eyes blinked uncontrollably as they adjusted to the eerie glow. Blankets and a tray of food lay on the floor. The blankets were a welcome sight. He got up, shaking the kinks out of his legs, and made the bed. Then he carefully set the tray of food on top of it. The meal consisted of a chunk of bread, some sort of brown soup, and tea. Not very appetizing, but he realized if he were to survive, he would have to keep his strength up. He dipped his bread in the soup and ate it. The food, despite being tasteless, warmed him inside. David sipped tea from the metal mug, taking note of the brick walls and cement floor, a sink in the corner with no taps. It had probably been some sort of janitorial or storage room in peace time. David finished the soup and stared at the small gap in the metal shutters. Through it came the faint light of dawn and sounds of explosions and spurts of gunfire in the distance. He walked over to the shutters, tried to look out but could not see anything. Careful not to make noise, he gently pushed against them. They were rigid and solid. He walked to the door and put his ear against it but could hear nothing. He felt utterly alone. David sank down on his cot and tried to envision his grandfather again. Dimly he saw him appear in the empty chair across the cell, then the white-haired man solidified.

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He heard grandfather’s voice, the same thick, Irish accent he remembered from long ago. “Life is but a dream, me boy. Make it a good one,” “It’s a bit of a nightmare at the moment,” David whispered. “So, ya landed yourself in a kettle of fish, did ya?” “Yep, things are in a big mess right now.” He felt rather silly carrying on this conversation, but he persisted with his imagination and the brief escape it gave him. “Aye, I see that.” He envisioned his grandfather getting up and wandering the room, examining each detail. “I guess there is no way out of it, then.” “Not that I can think of.” “Ah, well, nothing to worry about, then. Can’t be worrying about things outside your control, can ya now.” “Guess not.” “Life seems hard sometimes, and happiness such an effort and a struggle. Believe an old man. The struggle for happiness has been, and always will be, well worth the effort. Will you remember that for me?” “It’s not that easy!” “What isn’t?” “This place where I am. At any moment someone can come in and beat the crap out of me.” “Don’t say crap, Davie. Don’t be a’looking for trouble. Trouble comes naturally in anyone’s life, sure enough. It’s attitude, ya know. Ya can’t show bravado or cowardice towards your captors. It’s like maintaining your balance in a canoe, lad.” “This isn’t a canoe.” “Sure enough it isn’t. Just the same, inside yourself maintain your balance. Do your best, lad. Be strong. You’ll get through this. I believe in ya.” His grandfather’s image faded, and in its place were images of children begging for money and food. Hunger had undermined Sarajevo, once so beautiful and rich. People lined up for hours, waiting for food from the UN convoys. Women, once proud and strong, now sold themselves in prostitution. Sarajevo was an old

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story, brought down just like the Tower of Babel. Evil had taken hold, pitting brother against brother, stealing hope from the souls of the people. But, David would not lose hope. He refused to lose hope. The peace and comfort his grandfather had brought him were soon gone. As gloomy images crashed over him, he gave in to his exhaustion and fell into a restless sleep. “Wake Up!” A guard yanked him up by the hair. His heart beat wildly as he struggled between rage and fear. “What do you think this is? A vacation resort for spies?” “I am not a spy!” David recognized the Bosnian Serb colonel from the night before. The two guards who stood behind him, he didn’t recognize from previous visits. “What do you want?” David asked. “We want you to tell us everything.” “I’ve told you everything I know.” “Then perhaps you should write it all down this time, Mr. Warren.” “It won’t be any different than what I’ve already said.” “Then you are useless to us. Either come up with something useful to us or write one last letter to your family. Unless you admit your crimes, you will die.” David was silent for a moment. No one knew where he was. His body would be dumped in some field and left to rot. He had no doubt that this man was serious. They wanted something from him, but he had nothing to give. “How will I know that you’ll deliver the letter?” There was a long pause. “So, you won’t confess?” “I told you there is nothing to confess.” “The letter will be delivered because you have my word.” David didn’t know how much the colonel’s word was worth, but he didn’t say anything. Either it would be delivered, or it wouldn’t. There was nothing that could be done about it. The colonel spoke Serbian to the guard. A guard with an eye patch dashed forward, handing David a clipboard with paper and

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a pen. “Make it a good letter, Mr. Warren. It will be your last.” The men left the room. David watched as the door closed, then stared at it for a long while before looking down at the clipboard. He closed his eyes. What could he write that would keep him alive? He pondered this for a while, then concluded it would be no use. Shivering with cold, he opened his eyes and began to write the letter he had meant to write for the past year. Dear Anna, My apologies for not writing sooner. I was caught up in work but still think about you every day. Working Sarajevo, none of my experiences have prepared me for this insanity. I’d tell you more, but need to escape it for a moment. Do you remember building sandcastles together? Those days are important to me and I smile thinking about them. You are part of my memories. I’m truly grateful for your friendship. It is my hope and dream that we meet again soon. I want you to remember something. Wherever I have been, wherever I go, know I have always loved you and always will. Lots of hugs, David David addressed the letter to the Chicago Tribune. He didn’t know the address, but if it was mailed, he thought the letter might make it. There were many things he wanted to say, but in the end, what else was there? He folded up the letter as small as possible, then walked across the room and shoved it in a crack between the wall and the sink. How many hours did he have left? Sadness washed over him as he realized that no one would ever know his last thoughts. Why was it important, anyway? People died every day in Sarajevo. Why should he think he was any different? David closed his eyes, Our Father who art… God knew his

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thoughts and knew every heartbeat. His heart beat, not because he willed it but because God made it beat. He never wore his faith on his sleeve, and it was nothing one would ever find in a church, synagogue or mosque. He just believed in something good. It was better to believe than not. God inspired him, but it was David’s job to survive. To do that, he had to avoid pointless arguments and to the biggest extent possible, live his values. To satisfy the colonel, he began to write about his work in Sarajevo. This would give his captors something to chew on and perhaps keep him alive at the same time.

CHAPTER 4 Anna hit the snooze button on the alarm clock and snuggled further into the covers. Whether it was four in the morning or just before noon, she hated getting up. Maybe if she were a coffee drinker, things would be different. Coffee seemed to have a transforming effect on people. They might be blurry-eyed and stumbling around the kitchen, but as soon as that caffeine hit their blood stream, they brightened, and danced down the halls. Thinking about her day, she lay in bed running a tally of what she had to do. There was an editorial meeting where she’d present a proposal for a series of articles about universal health care, requiring fifteen minutes to review her notes prior to the presentation. Then, lunch with Rudy to obtain the information she needed. “Okay, body,” she commanded, “get going. It’s now or never.” “Never.” Her body protested. She swung her legs over the side of the bed to feel the cool floor beneath her feet. “Ah,” she muttered, “If I can get out of bed, anything goes.” Following a quick shower, she chose gray pants and blazer that didn’t quite amount to a suit, a comfortable but professional look for the editorial meeting. When satisfied with her appearance, she headed to the parking garage. Her red Mazda was in mint condition, with a deluxe stereo sound system. There was rarely a quiet moment in the car; rock music usually blared from the stereo. The air was crisp, but the sun was brilliant. As she pulled out into traffic, she noticed the moon, still bright and shining over

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Lake Michigan. Her mind wandered to another place and time. They had traveled a few miles, twisting and turning up the mountain. As they rounded the next curve, a ski resort came into view. Anna slowed, signaled left and turned into the parking lot. Stopping the car, she turned to David. “Come on, this is my favorite spot.” Pushing her door open, she rushed into cool air. David stared ahead. “This is your favorite place?” Doubt laced his words “Yeah! Come on, I wanna show you.” Skipping around to his side of the car, she opened the door, pulling him out by the arm. “Settle down, Anna. Don’t get so excited.” “Life is exciting, and there’s no time to waste.” Grabbing his hand, she dragged him toward the lodge. Ski season had been over for months now. The windows were boarded up, waiting for the snowfall. The white blanket would cover the dead grass and the tangled weeds surrounding the building. “Anna?” “What?” “Well, um, I hate to say this, but this place is ugly.” She laughed. “Just trust me, will you? Come on, we have a bit of a walk.” He allowed her to pull him toward a path leading away from the lodge. Stairs built into the ground, lead up a hill. David stopped at the bottom of the stairs, looked up. In mock horror, he announced, “I can’t walk all the way up there! There must be a hundred stairs.” “Fifty-eight to be exact. Now come on, let’s go, slowpoke.” “If you say so.” He let go of her hand and bounded up the stairs two at a time, stopping halfway up to wait for her, grinning. “Ah, ha! Now who’s the slowpoke?” “You big show off!” They climbed the last few steps together at a slower pace. Finally, at the top of the hill, they came to a mesa overlooking the valley. Anna pointed out to the east and showed David the road they had traveled to get to the lodge. From there, they could see the entrance to the village, the houses and the shops, all surrounded by row after row of pine trees, so dense in places that they couldn’t see the ground.

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“It’s beautiful!” David said. “I know. That’s why I wanted to bring you here.” “Thank you,” Reaching over, he embraced her. They spent the rest of the day wandering the paths that led through the trees and around the lake to the other side of the ski resort. It was dark by the time they started back. Walking to the car by the light of a full moon, David said, “The moon is our connection, Anna. No matter where we are, I’ll see the same moon as you. Wherever I see the moon I’ll whisper, I love you, Anna.” Anna gave an inward smile as she stared at the moon. “I remember you too, David,” she whispered. Did David still whisper to the moon, looking up she strained to hear any messages it might send her. The car behind honked, and she jumped, realizing the light had turned green. She wanted to contact him. It had been too long. Parking the Mazda, she made her way to the front of the building, entering through the gothic arched entryway. Going in the employee entrance, she often missed the glory and splendor of the thirty-six-story building. She had come a long way from the backwoods of Ontario to the marble-lined hallways of the Tribune. Leading the fight for free expression was the paper’s tradition that Anna admired. The Tribune led the fight against slavery. As she walked through the cavernous lobby, she paused. The great hall was filled with quotes from history, etched into its marble walls. She stopped to read the words of the French writer and philosopher, Voltaire. “I do not agree with a word you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it.” This was the type of tradition she wanted to be a part of. Greeting the security guard with a smile, she pushed the elevator button and waited for her ride to the sixth floor. Stepping into the office, Anna left the reflective feeling of the morning in the elevator. Everyone here was already busy. Telephones rang, computers hummed, fax machines buzzed. People hardly noticed her. A few nodded or smiled and waved. Anna waved back and continued walking. Spotting Gerald, the office administrator, she took another route to avoid the latest

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update on his rose garden. All she wanted to think about was the editorial meeting. If anyone wanted to talk to her this morning, it had better be a story she could write about. She walked over to the AP wire and rummaged through the pages it had spit out during the night. A few items caught her eye, and she made copies of them before walking into her office and turning on the computer. The morning ritual had begun. Checked email, faxes, and voice mail. Sometimes it seemed as if she’d spent half the day returning messages from people, and the other half, leaving messages for those impossible to reach in person. In this day of instant information, one could speak almost immediately to someone overseas or even on the moon. Why did it often take the entire day to get one person across town to return a call? In an hour she had answered all her messages, checked over her health care article notes, and put her desk in order for the day. Just enough time to dash down the hallway for the meeting. Grabbing her briefcase, she headed out the door. An editorial board meeting wasn’t for the faint at heart. If Anna wanted space in the paper, she had to be prepared to fight for it. Sitting at the table with the other senior reporters, her blood pressure rose as she listened to directions from the Editorial Steering Committee. To Anna, the paper was more than a business, and hard-fought arguments in this organization were often taken personally. Anna’s boss, Paul Gene, looked haggard and tired. He tried to adjust to the new business paradigm and to excel at costcutting and profit-making in exchange for total control of editorial policy and news content. There was talk of his forced retirement, which worried Anna. Paul had taught her that a true news story was one that was hidden from public view. He was always saying to her, “Go dig it out!” The corporate honchos viewed him as a negative factor to the profitability and circulation of the Tribune. Some of her fellow members on the editorial committee were gunning for his job. The meeting was tense. Paul had given the committee too

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much leeway and Anna watched as he attempted to rein them in. The first presentation was from John Fielding, who had his eye on Paul’s job. John’s entire presentation of a story was about increased sales, not the worthiness of reporting the news. Anna could hear the irritation in Paul’s voice as he broke into John’s presentation. “I’m sorry, John. I don’t believe this newspaper should spend that much time tracking down the possible love affairs of the President. We have to define what we stand for and as long as I’m still editor-in-chief, we’ll go after stories that are in the interest of our readership.” “But our readership can’t get enough of it,” John argued. Paul locked eyes with him. “I’ll tell you right now, John, nobody loves to sell newspapers more than me, but we’re not going to do that story, and that’s as final as death.” The tension around the table grew. Paul’s crimson cheeks indicated his patience was near the end. “Anna, you’re next,” he said. “Universal health care,” she said, hoping Paul’s agitation with John wouldn’t rain on her presentation. John groaned. Anna ignored his rudeness. “We’re not getting the real story to the people. When the paper reports statistics on health care, readers are bored with numbers. These numbers aren’t relating the story of the people who get up every morning and go to work to support their children and keep a roof over their heads. There is too much newspaper space that is spent reporting on politicians and insurance companies. We’re failing our readers by not reporting on the children who lie in bed for days shivering with fever because their parents have to make a decision whether to pay the rent or take their child to the doctor. Our reporting shouldn’t ignore people who have scrimped and saved all their lives to buy their homes and educate their children, just to lose everything when they have a major medical emergency. I want to report on the father whose heart attack brings about bankruptcy and loss of the family home.”

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Anna looked around the table, wondering if she had any supporters. “I would like to do a series of stories that question why the world’s greatest superpower can’t look after the basic human conditions of its taxpayers.” “People don’t want to read about health care reform,” John said, his impatience present in his tone and the shuffling of his feet. “You’re right,” Anna said. “They love to read about people, and people will be my focus as my writing dictates.” “That’s crap!” “I was quiet during your presentation,” Anna said quietly. She caught a glimpse of John’s smug smile. The bastard was enjoying this. She fought to subdue the growing anger that burned in her throat. “You’re flogging a dead horse, when I have an exclusive story that will sell newspapers,” John said. “The Trib shouldn’t prostitute itself. If you want to be a pimp, go work for the National Enquirer,” she bristled in defiance. The meeting dissolved into barbs thrown back and forth between John and Anna, until Paul put an end to it. Anna was more disappointed than angry by the reaction of her coworkers to the series on health care reform. However, the series wasn’t dead. Paul had requested an outline of some true-life stories. Anna walked into the cafeteria on the first floor. Grabbing a bagel and a bottle of water out of the glass case, she walked up to the cashier. “Hey, Anna, got any hot news for me today?” he asked, ringing up her lunch. “I would, if I wasn’t shot down before I could get up in the air,” she said bitterly, remembering the meeting that morning. “You need to hijack the plane.” “Good idea, Thomas. I’ll have to look into that.” She headed down into the dining room and scanned the faces for Rudy. “Anna.” She turned to see Rudy standing up and waving his arms wildly in the air. Walking toward him, she laughed. “You’re so weird.” “Anna, love of my life,” he said dramatically as he pulled out

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a chair for her. “You’re not getting any more than lunch, Rudy.” “You’re breaking my heart. I am sincere in my affection for you.” “Just as sincere as you are, talking to Bonnie in records, and Lois in circulation, and Kayla in sports, right?” “Well, I have to have my backups.” “Okay, Rudy. What have you got for me?” “Gee, I thought we could talk first.” “We did talk. All I have is a half-hour. My bagel is getting cold.” “Your bagel?” “I should have gotten soup, then that line would have worked better. So, did you come up with anything?” Rudy shuffled his papers. “Yes ma’am. I had to dig for this information, and it can’t become public yet. The family hasn’t been notified. If this gets into the paper, I’ll lose my source at the UN.” “I understand,” she said, reaching for her water. “The missing guy was part of a special UN peacekeeping force, a Canadian named David Warren.” Anna started to choke. She reached for a napkin and knocked over a coke, spilling it over the table and sending a river of carbonation toward Rudy’s pants. He jumped up and started grabbing napkins. “Are you, okay?” he asked, patting her on the back. Anna’s face turned red and tears welled up, as she coughed. “I’m fine,” she said, still trying to clear her throat. Rudy finished cleaning up the mess, threw away the napkins and sat down. “Are you sure you’re all right?” “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for the information,” Hurriedly gathering her things, she needed to get out of there. “Wait. You haven’t finished your lunch.” “Sorry, Rudy, no time. I have work to do.” The room was spinning as she turned to leave.

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CHAPTER 5 Escape was impossible. David’s emotions fluctuated from hope to despair. Hours passed in the dark cell as he lingered between boredom and fear. Explosions occurred at irregular intervals throughout the night, shells ripping into the few moments of silence, robbing him of sleep and leaving him exhausted. He held fast to love and evoked memories to escape mounting panic. They had faced bullies before, he and Anna. “David? David, are you listening to me?” Anna asked. “Sorry, just thinking, Anna.” “About what?” “Fighting Johnny,” “David. No!” Anna had stood beside him as he opened his locker. The hallway was crammed with kids heading for lunch. David noticed Johnny and his gang walking toward them. The hallway cleared as Johnny approached. Tugging on David’s arm, Anna attempted to pull him off to the side. Johnny strode into David’s path, and stopped. Their eyes locked. “Hey, Mr. Muscles. I hear you won’t meet me after school,” Johnny said, laughing as he looked around at his buddies. “John, I didn’t know you were into guy’s muscles. I’m afraid you’re not my type.” Johnny’s face turned red. David should have expected it, but before he could react, searing pain, then blood spilling from his nose. Moving instinctively, he attempted to regain an advantage, lifting his knee and extending it into Johnny’s groin. Johnny gulped and went down on the floor in a ball. With their leader down, Johnny’s

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friends backed off. “No fair. You kicked,” a voice cried out. “Yeah, and anyone else who wants it gets the same,” David yelled. His face was covered in blood; he tried to stop it from dripping on the floor. Dazed, he allowed Anna to pull him into the boy’s washroom. “Hey, no girls!” someone yelped. “What happened?” Anna turned on the water, and pushed David’s head forward. Blood and water mixed in the sink. “Pinch your nose and keep your head forward,” she said, handing him a pile of paper towels. The past and present blended together for reasons beyond his comprehension. Confronting a bully had taught him not to make matters worse, if possible. No good came from it. Footsteps outside his door snapped David back to reality, to a much darker and more dangerous place. Explosions followed by the faint wail of sirens and the cry of people in pain echoed in his ears. Whether real or imagined, he didn’t know. The noise was there, keeping him company day and night. There was something unreal about reality. Two years ago, David had been sent to investigate a rumor about mass graves outside of Sarajevo. On his arrival, there were hundreds of bodies rotting in the fields and forest trails. Skulls and ribs picked cleaned by dogs made the remains difficult to distinguish between Muslims or Serbs. Fields of broken hearts and dreams were scattered about in chaos. Thoughts of death haunted him. He didn’t want to die alone here, to join the fields of forgotten souls. If he had to die, he wanted it to be quick. Contemplating the possibilities, he considered taking his own life to escape a death by torture. Although, conditions weren’t good, meals came regularly. They consisted of a bit of broth, more water than anything else. At least there had been no further questioning. The colonel must have been tied up with other matters. He hoped they would forget him.

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David and Anna had developed a code when they were children that held meaning only for them. When she’d been scared or frightened, she would tell David there were monsters under her bed. For her ears only, David said, “Anna, the monsters are no longer under the bed. They’re right here in this hell with me.” The yearning for the peace of the old days scrambled his mind with vain hope. Those days were locked away in his heart, his soul holding the only key. Today’s demons needed to be faced. Closing his eyes, he tried to recall the sound of Anna’s voice. Instead, a bolt on the door pulled back. The door opened, and bright light from the hallway poured into his cubicle. Reality returned to him like a slap in the face. They were back. Every time the soldiers opened the door, adrenaline pumped through David’s veins. Every time the door opened, he wondered if he was taking his last breath. Energy overcame fear, driving him to face his captors with a brave face. David sat up in his bed. The colonel, whom he had secretly named Spider, entered the cell. Spider had a mole on his face, right below and to the right of his lip. The mole had hair growing out from it, giving the appearance there was a spider about to crawl into his mouth. “I have good news, Mr. Warren. We have decided you may still be of some value. You may live, after all.” David stared straight ahead, not wishing to betray any emotion. “Self determination for the Bosnia Serbs is the only viable solution to the country’s civil war.” He took the only chair, and sat across from David. “I’m not a politician,” David said. “I’m a UN worker. My job is to feed people and get the children away from the battlefield.” “Yes. Yes, I know all of that nonsense was found in the drivel you wrote. I translated it to my Serbian brothers. We laughed so hard, we were in tears. You are quite the saint. Do you want to know something, Mr. Warren?” “What?” “The way we feel about the UN, right now, it doesn’t matter

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whether you are a spy, or not. In fact, if you were a spy, we might respect you more. The food you distribute goes to bandits and murderers.” David stayed silent. Some of what Spider said was true, especially in the first days of relief coming into Sarajevo. The only group functioning effectively at the time was an organization of people who had questionable business dealings. David dealt with them to get things done. “My name is Rajko Eric. Under different circumstances, we might have been friends.” “Different circumstances?” David gripped the words. “Colonel Air- eetch, why are you holding me?” “You know why. Think about it. Would NATO start bombing before scouting out operations on the ground? You were wandering around close to our positions. Your job is to pass on reports.” Was David falling into some sort of trap? Ghostly fingers plucked at him, trying to pull him away from the conversation that might lead him into harm’s way. “I report on food convoys and people’s needs, whether they’re Serbian or Muslim,” he growled. The abruptness of his tone was of no concern to David. He was determined to hold to a steady course on this line of questioning. The colonel was searching for some sort of source, which meant he had a good idea of what to look for. Before David could react, Eric raised his hand and slapped him across the head, forcing David to fall across his cot, his ears ringing with pain. “You know,” Spider said, “you were a lousy choice for this job. You look like shit! Do you know that? I worry about you. This isolation is not good for you.” Sitting up, David watched Spider closely, waiting for the next blow to come. “You’re wrong,” he said defiantly. “I’m the perfect choice.” Spider smiled. “Ah, I see what you are doing. You look like shit, but you are a clever fellow, Mr. Warren. You’d rather I beat you than ask questions.”

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“I’d rather you let me go.” For once, he noticed a pause. Spider sat there in his chair, his eyes locked onto David as though searching for something. David remained expressionless, forcing himself to return the cold stare. “Describe him to me,” Eric said calmly. “Who?” “The NATO man to whom you spoke.” “I’ve only talked to blue helmets, peacekeepers.” “There are lots of NATO men in blue helmets, but they are not peacekeepers.” “If so, I’m not aware of it. Listen, my job is to distribute food. That’s the whole story.” “Take off your shoes,” Spider ordered. “What?” “Take off your shoes, socks too.” Steaming inside, David followed the order. “Now lay down.” “You have no authority to hold me here.” “Of course we have authority, Mr. Warren. Don’t you know the rules? The man with the biggest gun has the authority.” Evil poured from his laugh. “You belong to us, Mr. Warren. Like our homes, our wives, our children. Only we do not care whether you live or die.” He grinned as if he were having a friendly conversation about the weather. “Hold him,” Spider growled suddenly to the guards. David felt sharp fingernails dig into the back of his arms as he was grabbed by two soldiers. Struggling in vain, he was too weak from lack of food and sleep to pose any challenge. Forcing David face down on his cot, the guards placed a pillow over his head. He struggled to move his head so that he could breath. At first he thought that they were trying to smother him. One guard held fast to the pillow while the other sat on his back. Sudden pain shot across the soles of his feet as the snap of a cane came across them. Blow after blow connected in agony. The pillows muffled his screams. Each blow he prayed would be the last. The pillow was jerked away and a rifle butt was jabbed into his

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gut. “You, bastard!” David moaned, raising his hands, he tried to push the gun barrel away. A rifle butt struck his head, and he fell to the floor. Spider’s foot pressed into his stomach, and a guard’s AK 47 pointed at his throat. Spider looked down at him and laughed. “Like I said, Mr. Warren. I am in charge of whether you live or die. If you ever want to see your momma, again, you will behave like a good boy.” He gave David’s stomach a kick with his steel-toed combat boot, and struck him across the face with the end of a rifle, then turned to leave. David watched through bloodied eyes as his tormentors left the room. He listened for the clink of the lock signaling him that he was safely locked away from them, at least for a time. Now, he curled into a ball, too defeated and sore to pull himself from the floor. Closing his eyes, he drifted into unconsciousness, but not before a past vision returned. An angel pushed his head forward into the sink, putting paper towels over his face. “Pinch your nose, David, and keep your head forward.”

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CHAPTER 6 Anna left the cafeteria dazed, thoughts swirling around her head. The last letter, she had received from David indicated he was heading to France. There had to be a way to get to him. But how? She walked through the office not hearing or seeing anyone. Without realizing where she was heading, she found herself bypassing a secretary and opening her editor’s office door without knocking. “Paul,” she announced, “I’m going to Bosnia to do a story on the UN hostage situation.” The words left her lips before she had time to think about them. “Yeah, right,” Paul said. “This morning it was health care, now Bosnia? I don’t think so, Anna.” “I’m serious. I’m going to do the story. I’m not going to let you shoot me down like you did with health care this morning.” “Sorry, Anna. Bosnia’s well covered by Reuters and AP journalists. It’s too dangerous.” Anna was in no mood to argue. Her face felt tight and she fought to control herself, determined not to dissolve into tears. “Look, I’m going to Bosnia. Now, I can do it with you or without you. It’s either a Trib exclusive, or I’ll sell the story independently. Someone will buy it, I’m sure.” “No one on staff can do independent stories. You work for me. If I say you do a story, you do it. If I say no, then that’s the final word, got it?” Her blood pressure rose. “Then I don’t work for you anymore. A letter of resignation will be on your desk within the hour.” She was already halfway to the door when Paul came from around his

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desk, clearly flabbergasted at her outburst. “Anna, Anna! Sit down here for a minute. Slow down. If you feel Bosnia is so important, I’ll look into it. There may be a reporter, I can spare in a week or two - -” “Forget it, Paul. This is my story. I’m leaving tonight for Toronto, before flying out tomorrow morning.” Her plan was formulating as she spoke. She would have to tell David’s parents. Rudy said that the family hadn’t yet been notified. She didn’t want some pompous military officer showing up at Mrs. Warren’s doorstep, bringing the devastating news. She was vaguely aware of Paul speaking to her. “What?” she asked. “Sorry, I missed that.” “I said, as long as you are so fired up about going, I might as well get something out of it. Go ahead and get the story as an exclusive for the paper. I’ll have the arrangements made for you by Monday.” “I’m going tonight, Paul.” “Okay, fine, get out of here. Just one thing. If it weren’t for the work that you’ve done for this paper in the past, I would fire your sorry ass right now. If you ever offer me your resignation again, I’ll snap it up in a heartbeat.” “I’m sorry but…” “No, you are not sorry. My turn to talk and you had better listen. Understand?” Anna nodded meekly. She’d never seen Paul so angry. Not at her, anyway. “If you waste my time and the time of this newspaper on this Bosnia escapade without producing good work, you won’t have a job on your return. I expect better from you.” “Paul...” “Just get out of here before I change my mind.” He grabbed the phone and started punching in numbers. There was no way she could explain the situation, not to him, anyway. The minute she arrived in her office, the telephone rang. Looking at the display, she recognized Rudy’s extension.

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Picking it up, she barked into the receiver, “What do you want?” “Hey, be nice. I just took a load of ...” Rudy said. “Don’t say it. You know I hate that word.” “What word? Crap? The chief just phoned. I had to endure a colorful four-lettered temper tantrum.” “What did he want to know?” “What I know. Which is nothing.” “Thank you.” “For what? I don’t know anything.” “I find it best that way with my men. When they need to know something, I tell them.” “Well, thanks a lot! My wagon is hitched to yours and I’ll tell you right now, it’s not a comfortable place to be. He wants me on Bosnia full time.” “I’m worth it, Rudy.” “Yes, you are, baby.” “I’m nobody’s baby. Told you that before. That baby stuff annoys me.” “Lighten up, Anna. I was trying to be funny after getting an earful from the chief. Let’s just do good work.” “You’re the best, Rudy. Just remember that I’m on a story and my game face is on. I’m fired up and ready to go.” “Go get’em.” “You’re okay, I’m okay” Rudy laughed. “Yes, ma’am.” Anna hadn’t known she was going to go into Paul’s office. Her impulsive action to demand the story or quit hadn’t been part of any plan. Now that the decision had been made, she stepped out of the fog and moved at light speed making arrangements. She left the office and stopped by the bank. Back at her apartment, Anna searched the Internet for flights to Toronto. Picking the midnight flight would allow her enough time for packing and calling the family. After finalizing the travel, she tore the condominium apart, searching for her passport. She always kept it in the top drawer of her desk, but the last time she

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remembered seeing it was when her mother had come to visit. Good old mom had decided that Anna’s documents needed to be organized. One of the documents had been her passport. Anna pushed her mom’s number on speed dial. Please, be home mother. “Hello,” her mother answered. “Thank goodness you’re home!” “Anna, I was just thinking of you.” “Where did you put my passport?” Anna asked. “In your third file drawer under P for passport. Are you going somewhere?” “Bosnia. I have an assignment.” “Oh, not Bosnia, hon! Let me get your father.” “Mom, please,” Anna pleaded. “Just a minute. Rick, pick up the extension. Anna’s going to Bosnia!” She heard her father pick up an extension. “What’s this about Bosnia?” he demanded. Putting them on speakerphone, she headed to her filing cabinet. “First, the LA riots,” her father said. “Then the Gulf War. Now Bosnia?” “I’m a big girl now. Don’t worry.” “You’re still my baby,” he said. Anna winced, remembering what she had said to Rudy. “Yes, I know. Love you both. I’ll be back in a couple of weeks and come visit you.” Pulling her passport from the folder, she closed the filing cabinet. “When are you leaving?” her mother asked. “I fly to Toronto at midnight.” “Why, Toronto?” her father asked. “I have business there before heading overseas.” Anna continued responding to their concerns as she packed her bags, promising them she’d contact them, often. Half an hour later, she gave them her love and said goodbye. By the time she

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hung up the phone, the packing was finished. She took her bags to the living room and dumped them by the door. Then she pulled a photo album from the shelf. Opening it to the middle, she found a picture of herself and David taken at the beach when they were thirteen. They had competed in a sandcastle building contest, putting their hearts and souls into practicing all spring and summer. The sandcastle was perfect. Together, they could do anything. Anna boarded the midnight flight. Wrapping herself in a blanket, she watched the lights of Chicago disappear as the jet climbed through the clouds. Needing to slow down, she planned to take a nap at the Sheraton Hotel in Toronto. In the morning, she’d rent a car and drive into the city to see the Warrens. David’s parents had moved from Deep River to Toronto the year she had gone to California. With their address and directions in her purse, she would hopefully locate the Warrens. Anna kept in touch with David’s parents through Christmas cards with hurried messages scrawled on the back. A feeling of insecurity and self-doubt crept into her mind. Why in the world was she flying to Toronto to tell them about David? Flying to Bosnia to search for him was one thing, but telling his parents was quite another. What if she was wrong? There might be hundreds of David Warrens in the world. Anna closed her eyes as a flight attendant passed by. The next time she opened her eyes, a voice was asking them to return their seats to an upright position. She wished she had thought to recline the seat, as she now had a crick in her neck. She made her way through customs and immigration, explaining her dual citizenship and that she lived in Chicago. No, she wasn’t bringing in firearms. Grabbing her luggage from the carousels, she headed to the Sheraton Hotel across from Terminal Three. She had packed lightly. After all, it wasn’t a pleasure trip. The Sheraton was quiet and she was able to register right away. Her room was on the seventh floor. A bellhop insisted on carrying her luggage and showing the way. She gave him five dollars, the smallest bill she had. The older man smiled, thanking her and

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then asked if he could be of any other assistance. Finally, after she indicated his services were no longer required, he left the room. Taking a deep breath, she tried to shake off the day’s anxiety. She put on a long T-shirt from her carry-on bag and stretched across the bed. Anxiety touched memories, firing up past experiences. Her mother had awakened her one night when she was thirteen. “Wake up, honey,” her mother said. Anna opened her eyes, looked at her mom, and then closed them again. “Do you know where David and his parents are?” her mother asked. “What?” “Hon, the police are here. Someone told them you might know where David and his parents are.” “The police?” “Anna, do you know where they are?” “Is David okay?” “Yes, fine. It’s Mr. O’Brien.” “David’s grandpa is here?” “Mr. O’Brien took a spill off the bluffs.” “What! Is he okay, Mom?” “ I’m sorry, hon. He took a bad fall. I’m afraid he didn’t make it. ” “No!” It must be a mistake. Anna bolted upright, almost knocking her mother over. She had heard the words, but couldn’t believe them. “I’m sorry, hon, but right now we have to find David and his parents. Think, baby, do you know where they are?” Anna had talked on the phone with David this afternoon. She remembered him mentioning that his dad was going golfing while he and his mom went to his uncle’s cottage down Beaver Brook Road. Anna had been invited along, but she and her mom were going into the city to go shopping. She managed to tell her mother, feeling as if she was in a dream. Nothing seemed real.

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“All right, Anna I’ll tell the police.” “What will they do?” “They’ll drive out there to tell David and his mom. “Mom, no! Can’t we tell them?” “Anna, no.” Anna burst into tears, clinging to her mom, and sobbing. Her mother rocked her gently back and forth. “Anna, I have to go. They’re waiting downstairs.” Mom leaned down and kissed the top of her head as Anna released her grip. “Get dressed, and I’ll meet you downstairs in a bit.” Returning to the present, she drifted to sleep thinking about David and remembering his grandfather. In the morning, she rented a new blue Toyota Corolla and drove from the airport as the sun rose. She found the Warrens’ neighborhood and drove up and down streets, comparing the map with the actual area, which did not seem to be remotely the same. Finally, she found Willow Street and made a right hand turn. She drove slowly, looking for number sixty-six until she spotted a ranch bungalow with a stone exterior. Anna drove up to the curb. The homes reminded her of Deep River. Absent-mindedly running a brush through her hair, she pushed her purse under the seat, grabbed the keys out of the ignition, and stepped out of the car. By her watch, the time was a quarter to seven. With luck, they would be awake. Composing herself, she headed to the front door. As she walked up the steps, she could hear a dog barking. The door opened, just as she about to knock. There was a blank look on Mrs. Warren’s face. “May I help you?” she asked. “Mrs. Warren? It’s me, Anna McBride.” “Anna!” Mrs. Warren exclaimed, recognition crossing her face. “Come in! How nice to see you!” She took Anna by the arm and led her into the living room. There was a corner fireplace and a splendid view of mature trees out the sliding glass doors. A Persian rug covered dark-stained hardwood floors.

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“Gary,” she called to her husband. “We have company. You’ll never guess who’s here.” A small white dog ran underfoot, dashing back and forth between Anna and Mrs. Warren, trying to figure out whether their visitor was welcome or not. “Anna!” Mr. Warren said, as he walked into the room dressed in his suit and tie. He embraced her in a warm hug. “Come, sit down. We’re just getting ready for work. Would you like some coffee?” “No, thank you, Mr. Warren.” Anna sat in an easy chair as Mr. Warren sat on the couch. With her hands now folded on her lap, she felt like a young school child in their presence. They shared an awkward moment as they glanced from one to the other. Anna had no idea how to begin. “Are you in Toronto for a few days?” Mr. Warren asked. “No. I’m only in town for a few hours. There’s a plane to catch, but I need to talk with you for a few moments.” The Warrens exchanged puzzled expressions. Mrs. Warren joined her husband on the couch. “I’m going to Bosnia on assignment for the paper,” Anna said. “Oh, Anna. Be careful. That’s no place for a young girl to be alone,” Mr. Warren said. Echoes of her father. Anna noticed the look of disapproval from Mr. Warren. How time had worn them. Her last visit with the Warrens had been at least fifteen years ago. “Have you been following the news reports from Bosnia?” Anna asked. “Yes, quite closely because of David,” Mr. Warren said. “Well, have you heard that there’s a missing UN worker?” Mrs. Warren reached for her husband’s hand. They sensed it. “My sources say that a David Warren is the missing person.”

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CHAPTER 7 Overlapping images and sounds ripped through David, the crackling of gunfire, the horror on a child’s face, it all haunted him. Fighting to steady his mind, he buried his face into his pillow, hoping that sleep would swallow him. He concentrated on a trail he had loved as a boy, forming a picture of it in his mind. The path from his memory led down to a clearing on the river. The silence would only be broken by his footsteps. His mind followed the path. It was good to walk again, even if only in his mind. He gave way to memory. They walked high above the river. “We make life way too complicated,” Grandpa said. David nodded. He had not really thought about it before. In the distance, he heard the familiar honking of geese. They had made good time walking to the top of the summit. Now they sat on a log and looked out across the river. “School doesn’t teach ya everything,” grandpa said. “There is one thing I want ya to always remember. Whenever things get confusing, remember - Do unto others “The Golden Rule?” “Right ya are, me boy. Remember it well whenever things get tough for ya. If ya ever want to know how ya should treat someone, think about how ya want to be treated.” David mulled his grandfather’s words. Picking up a pebble, he tossed it over the bluff to the river below. “What about Johnny?” “That’s another kettle of fish altogether. Shouldn’t ever look for trouble. For trouble will come, sure enough. You wouldn’t be doing no favors to the Golden Rule if ya allow yourself harm.”

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David returned to the fear in Sarajevo. Fear in itself was not a new experience. What was happening in Bosnia had happened before. The killing, the mass exodus of people, it had all happened before in World War II. Fear fed chaos and thousands were sacrificed. War in the Balkans turned to barbarism. Terror generated closed social factions that came to resemble primitive tribes. This version of the war had created fresh horrors with ethnic cleansing as a new generation repeated the mistakes of the past. The beatings he took from his Serbian jailers stole his confidence. His feet were swollen and red with blisters. Usually he walked out his anxiety and fear. Today, his feet were too sore to do anything more than sit on the bed, and think. If he had to, he would crawl across the floor. In his impaired position, he pondered the war. Thoughts of children dying invaded him, families torn apart, people losing homes and country. No one would ever know how many innocents had been caught up in the madness. He tried to find something else to occupy his mind, his memories of friends and family wrestling with newer images of death and destruction. He tried to fill his mind with images of Anna and sandcastles. Finding his pen, he started to write on the back of the letter he’d written earlier to Anna. Struggling to find the words, he formed an image of a storm to express his feelings. As the storm washes away the castles we have built, so also, time battles with me. Your voice, long since gone from my ears, your words still warm my heart. I hold the image of your face. The touch of your hand lingers, undisturbed by the crashing waves and blinding winds. The moon whispers to me messages from a far. I know that you are still there, miles away and yet, so close to my heart.

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All time melts away, as you are in my arms once more He read over the lines he had written and suddenly, without warning, a flood of tears came to his eyes. David heard movement and harsh voices in the hall. Hiding the poem, he wiped the tears from his eyes as the door opened and two men walked in. One was a guard he recognized. The other man, dressed in army fatigues, he hadn’t seen before. He didn’t carry a gun. The men talked to each other in an argumentative tone and the guard left the room, locking the door behind him. “Hello. I am Doctor Andric,” he said. “What is your name, please?” “David.” “Well, David, where are you from?” “Canada.” “Ah, thought you were from Britain. First of all, David, I want you to know I am not one of these thugs that have locked you up. All this killing is for nothing. The war has done no good for anybody.” David nodded. “Cigarette?” Andric asked. David took a cigarette from Andric’s pack. The gesture was a kindness that he didn’t wish to refuse. He hungered for any gentle connection and the realization made his eyes well up again with tears. “Let me look at your feet.” Andric moved down the cot and examined David’s feet. “Can you feel this?” Pain shot through his feet. He flinched at the doctor’s touch, crying out. “Good, that’s very good. The important thing here is to prevent infection. Your feet need to be bandaged and I will leave you some antibiotics. I know it’s hard to keep your feet clean but try. Walk a bit each day and change the bandages when they become damp. I will tell them to leave your feet alone. One other thing, if they wanted you dead, you would be dead. They don’t

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ask me to visit someone that they have decided is of no use to them. Do you understand me?” “Yes.” As the doctor wrapped gauze around his feet, he thought about what Andric had told him. His care gave him hope, a scarce commodity. “Doesn’t mean you can be arrogant. They could take out a pistol and shoot you in the head without a thought.” His no nonsense tone sank in. Andric didn’t have to say a thing, but imparted information crucial to David’s survival. In Andric he recognized a kindred soul. He was as much a captive of time and circumstance as David. “Let me look at the rest of you.” Andric went through a standard medical checkup as David sized him up. What made Andric so different from his captors? Perhaps, the man’s training as a doctor. “Okay, I am done.” David grabbed his arm. “Don’t leave me here.” “Look into my eyes, David. Know I understand, but I can’t rescue you. Keep your head. You will get through this, and someday, we will have a beer together. I must go now. “ David nodded, forcing his fingers to release Andric’s sleeve. The doctor hesitated a moment, then knocked at the door, and called out for the guard. He left without looking back, the door locking behind him. “Thank you,” David whispered. Despite the circumstance, the doctor’s visit gave him confidence. They could lock him up in a cell but his mind was free to come and go. Once more he reached for the past. In his mind, he poured over every inch of Anna’s body. They lay side-by-side on the floor and stared at each other. There was no talk. A quiet understanding took over and they touched. Touch has a memory and nothing could take that away from him. Loud noises, a woman’s screams, and men laughing interrupted his self-absorption. David crawled to the door and placed his ear against it. He crawled back to his bed and covered his ears,

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to no avail. His short-lived peace had been shattered and his rage built. For days, they had bullied him. He lived every minute under constant threat of a knife, gun, fist or boot. Horror flooded him as his fearful imagination produced images of bullies rendering their victim helpless. After several minutes, the noise subsided, replaced by breathtaking deep sobs. The sound was so clear that David felt this poor woman was in the same room. His eyes searched the room. Pulling the cot away from the wall, he found a drain, which emitted the mournful sounds. He lay on the floor and listened through the floor drain. Hearing a lone woman weeping, he concluded that her captors had left. Was he invading the woman’s privacy through the drain connection? “Hello,” he said self-consciously into the floor drain. He listened for any recognition or reply, but the sobs continued. “Hello,” he said a bit louder. “Govorite li egleski? Do you speak English?” “Sta? Gdeje ste?” She asked where he was. The word for floor escaped him. “Do you speak English? Govorite li egleski?” There was silence. “Hello,” he said once more. “Hello,” echoed a voice. “Ja se zovem, David.” “I am Dobrila.” “You do speak English.” “Yes. Where are you?’ “In the cell next to yours. Do you see a drain on the floor?” “I see it,” she said. She must have moved closer to the drain because David could hear her breathing. “I’m a prisoner, like you,” he said. “I work for the UN.” There was silence once more. David couldn’t think of much to say. What could he tell her, what could he ask? “Sorry, it has been a while since I have spoken English.” “Are you okay?”

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David heard a deep sob, and she began to cry again. Listening to the little gasps and sniffles, he wanted to reach out and comfort her. His eyes wandered around his bleak cell in the drab light cast by the single bulb. “Dobrila?” “Yes.” “Where are you from?” “Visegrad. I escaped in 92. My husband didn’t.” David had interviewed refugees from Visegrad. The stories were gruesome. The eyes of the refugees betrayed a people on the verge of giving up. He wondered what Dobrila’s eyes could tell him. “Isn’t Dobrila Serbian?” he asked. “My husband was Muslim. Therefore, I am a traitor who has lost everything. My husband and I sent our children to Belgrade to live with my mother. When the trouble first started, we thought they would be back in a few weeks, but it has been three years since I have seen them.” “How old are your children?” “Mitar, my oldest, would be nine now. My daughter, Dana’s seven. If not for them, I would be dead with my husband.” David knew hundreds, maybe thousands had been massacred in Visegrad. Women, children and the elderly were strip-searched and robbed of money and jewelry. The paramilitaries had herded them into buildings, telling them everything was going to be fine. The buildings were boarded up and set on fire. Some tried to escape by jumping out windows, but they were shot before reaching the ground. He wondered if Dobrila had endured a similar ordeal. It was something he could not ask. Not right now. Perhaps never. “You’ll see them, again,” David stated. “I am tired of hope and dreams. Sometimes I just want to die and be done with it.” “You will see them. Believe it, Dobrila.” “I don’t believe in anything.” “Do you believe we are talking?”

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“Yes.” “Ah, so, you do believe in something. Hang on, Dobrila. Hang on to your children and never let go.” Soft crying came once more. David didn’t know whether he was doing more harm than good. He understood what it was like to lose hope. As he listened, he imagined tears streaming down the woman’s face. For whatever reason, he envisioned the woman to look like Anna. “Have you ever taken your children to the beach?” “What?” “The beach, you know, the sea, the sand.” “Yes.” “Tell me about it,” he said. “Why?” “Do you have something better to do?” “I am too tired.” “Do you mind if I talk?” “No. I just cannot talk, anymore.” “It’s okay, just tell me to shut up when you’re tired of listening to me.” David described the home where he grew up, the places and events that were important to him. After a half-hour, he could hear deep breathing from Dobrila, and knew she was asleep. Even in hell, one needs to sleep.

CHAPTER 8 Anna turned off the highway into the airport and followed the signs to the rental car return. Parking near the building, she checked her itinerary. There was two hours to kill before boarding Air Canada for the eight-hour flight. After an hour layover in Zurich, Switzerland, she continued on to Zagreb, Croatia. She wished the trip was under different circumstances. She wanted to enjoy her first trip to Switzerland. Maybe, someday David could join her and they’d explore it together. After checking her luggage and going through security, she found the gate and sat down to wait. Still there was an hour and a half before her flight. She was tired but too restless to sit. Wandering the airport, she saw a line of phone booths by the wall. Grabbing some coins out of her pocket, she dropped them into the phone. “Rudy here.” “Do you miss me, yet?” Anna asked. “This place isn’t the same without you, darlin.’ Where are you?” “At the airport in Toronto.” “Toronto?” “I talked to David Warren’s parents.” “You what? You mean the David Warren? How did you know where to find them?” For a moment she heard nothing but his breathing. “Anna, there’s something you haven’t told me. I hate it when you hold out on information.” “You’re told things on a need-to-know basis.”

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“For crying out loud, I need to know.” “Didn’t want to tell you that much, but I need you.” “Of course you need me. I’ve been telling you that for years.” “I’m scared, Rudy. Leaving Chicago so quickly, I didn’t have time to figure out where to go or what to do.” More silence. Anna felt stupid now. She needed to talk to someone. Managing a strong front for David’s parents, she had felt quite confident then. Now, alone at the airport, she felt jumpy and nervous. “Listen, Anna, we joke around a lot. You’re my friend and I’m gonna be here for you when you need me. I’ll work this end to get you whatever you need. Do you have all my numbers? My home phone, my pager?” “Yes, thanks, Rudy.” The anxiety within started to ease as she said goodbye and hung up the phone. Anna opened her briefcase and took out clippings and books on Bosnia and Yugoslavia. If she was going to write about the situation, she had better research. From a lengthy, Foreign Affairs magazine article, Radovan Karadzic became the first President of the Bosnian Serb administration in May 1992. With the help of the former Yugoslavian army, Karadzic conducted a war against the new independent country of Bosnia. This recent declaration of independence from Yugoslavia left the Serbian population in Bosnia a minority. Karadzic, in turn, wanted independence from Bosnia for the Serbs. There were so many factions vying for power over people and geography that it confused Anna. What was clear, though, was that Karadzic was not only aware of the UN hostages, but also approved of the hostage taking. A couple of weeks ago, NATO jets attacked a Bosnian Serb ammunition dump near Pale. Bosnian Serbs responded by taking more than three hundred and seventy UN peacekeepers hostage. She didn’t know for sure that David was a hostage as well, but it seemed a logical conclusion. Anna made notes as she read. Next time she contacted Rudy, she’d ask him for more information on Karadzic. He might be essential in finding David.

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Bosnia was the only republic of former Yugoslavia established on a geographical-historical basis. Before the war, Bosnians occupied an area of 51,129 square kilometers. Approximately forty-four percent were Muslims, thirty-one percent Serbs, and seventeen percent Croats. They shared their country with a smattering of gypsies, Albanians, Ukrainians, Poles, and Italians. The Yugoslavia Serbian Nationalists initiated the war in Bosnia. In April 1992, the government of Bosnia appealed for foreign military intervention. Slovenia, Croatia and Bosnia were admitted to the UN. The UN Security Council imposed embargoes on Serbia and Montenegro restricting trade, oil, and air traffic. Serbia, the former Yugoslavia, ordered withdrawal from Bosnia, while almost all troops and equipment remained as the Army of the Serbian Republic of Bosnia under Radovan Karadzic. The war raged on for three years, with no end in sight. Now, the UN and NATO were involved. “Anna.” A voice startled her back to the reality of the airport. To her surprise, she recognized Tom Filmore, a Canadian news broadcaster she’d met during the Gulf War. “Hey, Tom. Long time no see.” “Bet I know where you’re going,” he said, chuckling. “Oh?” “The same place I am.” “Which is?” “Sarajevo, of course. You know, Anna, you told me Saudi was going to be the last war you ever reported on.” “What can I say? You can take the woman out of the action but you - -” “… can’t take the action out of the woman,” he finished. “Do you mind if I join you?” “I’d be delighted, but shouldn’t you be in the First Class lounge?” “Well, yeah, but what about you? Should I report that the Trib is having financial difficulties?” “Right now I’m on my own ticket. I’m ready and able, it’s

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my Visa card that can’t handle the action.” “Would you join me in the First Class lounge?” “Why, Tom, you sure know how to sweep a gal off her feet.” Anna put her files back in her briefcase, and stood. Tom looked at her and opened up his arms. Anna placed the briefcase on the floor and hugged him. He was one of the good guys as far as Anna was concerned. His charm, good looks, and big heart made up for some of his excesses, such as his love for whiskey. The two of them had grown close in the Gulf, a purely platonic relationship, but it could have been more. Anna smiled at him. His eyes were kind, but in their depths, she could see fatigue. Tom took her by the arm and they headed for the First Class lounge. Waiting for the flight, they recounted old war stories, laughing over shared memories. They’d spent many hours together in dismal places, and Tom always had a story or anecdote to hold her interest as they whiled away the long Gulf evenings. “Do you have any leads?” he asked. “On the record, no.” “Okay, off the record then.” “Off the record. Cross your heart and hope to die.” “Of course,” he replied solemnly, crossing his heart. “There is a missing UN worker.” “There are hundreds being held hostage.” “The one that is missing, but not a confirmed hostage, is a Canadian.” “Damn, and you have me off the record. I could be on this phone right now and have it on the national news tonight.” “You help me on this, Tom, and I promise to share the story with you.” “Do you have a name?” Anna looked down at the table, wondering if she had said too much. Rudy would kill her if word got out. “Anna! Damn, you have the name, too! Come on now, give it up.” “David Warren.”

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Tom gave her a puzzled look. His head slowly nodded in recognition. “Your David, the one you told me about.” “You have a good memory.” Anna exchanged what information she had with Tom. Her trip had been impulsive, yet her intuition often led her in the right direction. Tom knew how to get from Zagreb to Sarajevo and offered to be her guide. There was a relief to have found a friend. The international circuit of journalists who specialized in conflicts and disasters was surprisingly small. Anna had anticipated coming across old friends and foes along the way, but not this soon. The anxiety of the last couple of days melted away as she talked with Tom. They boarded the plane together, then Anna left the newscaster enjoying the drinks in First Class while she found her way to the back of the plane. During her conversation with him, a sudden calm had settled over her. By the time the plane was in the air, Anna was busy studying her notes of the Bosnian conflict. She read clipping after clipping, oblivious to the other passengers. The atrocities of the war were shocking, and nothing she read clearly defined the reason for the conflict. The war was beyond any reasoning she could understand. “Excuse me.” Anna looked up to see Tom who was speaking to the man next to her. “Would you mind sitting up front in First Class for a while, so I may sit with my friend?” The man laughed. “Sure, take my seat.” Anna got up to let the gentleman out, and Tom slipped into his seat. “So, you came back to join the unwashed masses, eh?” Anna said. “Eh? Are you allowed to speak that way at the Trib?” “Naw, if I used that word there they’d put me on the Canadian beat.” Tom looked at the clippings on her lap, “You’re studying up. How goes it?” “I don’t get it.”

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“There’s nothing to get,” Tom said. “Tito, who always insisted on multi-ethnicity, died. The Berlin wall fell. Economic problems developed. Some politicians started courting ethnic and nationalistic support and hinges fell apart along so-called ethnic lines. The war has been between Serbs and Muslims, Muslims and Croats, Serbs and Croats. In every region, the conflict takes on a different struggle of ethnic groups. Before the war, Sarajevo was the multiethnic soul of Bosnia. The state had Muslims, Serbs and Croats, all trying to hold onto the multi-ethnic ideal. Now the ideal is fading through exhaustion and mistrust.” “How many times have you been over?” “This is my third and last time,” Tom said. “I just don’t want to do it anymore.” “That bad?” “The worst I’ve ever seen. You wonder if a sniper will get you, or a stray piece of shrapnel. The tension wears on you, and then you start to ask yourself, ‘Why am I here? What am I doing?’ You start to get clumsy and careless, then fear creeps in, and you never relax.” “Why are you going back, then?” “Because, without knowing it, the reporter in me, accepts the challenge. Most reporters think their story can make a difference.” Anna knew it well. The struggle between wanting to hide from danger and writing the story. It was an exhausting sensation, a constant tug-of-war that robbed a person of sleep. No wonder Tom looked tired. “We will find the story,” Anna said with conviction. Tom smiled. “I hope so, Anna.”

CHAPTER 9 David washed his underwear and socks in the sink, while letting his thoughts drift. He enjoyed talking to Dobrila when he was sure no one was around. They exchanged stories to relieve the boredom and fear. At other times, he continued the practice of losing himself, thinking about special places and conversations recalled from the past. “See here,” David had said, his finger pointing to a place on the map along the Pacific Ocean. “That’s Long Beach, California. They have the best sandcastle-building contest in the world. We’ll go there someday.” Anna nodded and smiled. David didn’t think she was convinced. “Maps are special to me, Anna. Looking for places all over the world and dreaming about going there.” “What other places do you dream of?” Anna asked. “Ireland. Someday, I may go there with my grandfather.” Flipping through the pages of the Atlas, he found Ireland. “My grandfather is from Balleycanew, in the county of Wexford.” He pointed to the map. “Cool,” Anna said. “Do you really think you’ll visit there someday?” “It’ll happen,” David replied. “How do you know?” Anna asked. David shrugged, and said. “Pick something I want to do and work toward it. That alone, doesn’t make things happen, but believing makes me happy. If I don’t believe, then I don’t try.” “But it doesn’t always work out,” Anna said.

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“Nope. Sometimes believing is not enough. Sometimes things just don’t happen, no matter how hard I try.” That was then. The future was easier to believe in. Youth had had a Peter Pan quality to it. David wanted to believe he would be rescued or somehow escape his prison. Sometime in his life, he had crossed a dangerous boundary. True awareness of his original motivations for doing a job had once been clear. There were questions now. What was his true motivation? Was it something darker and hidden? The sensation of fragmentation and isolation were doing strange things to his mind. Spending most of his time dreaming of the past, everything in his daydreams became much more real than his present situation. He had difficulty keeping straight who he was. David wanted to believe his situation was forced upon him, but he knew better. Some type of action was required to reduce or eliminate the conflict. People had to believe it could be done, and he was one of them. He had chosen this action. His choices had led him here. There was always a price to pay for achieving peace in wartime. Was this the price? At eighteen, Anna had received a scholarship from UCLA while David received a partial scholarship to attend Carleton University in Ottawa. David should have been excited about university, but he dragged his way through the first year. There had been an assumption that he and Anna would go to Ottawa together, although he had never mentioned it to her. After completing first year university, he started making friends while working as a lifeguard. The past was becoming easier for David to slip into. His thoughts turned to Brian. Brian had made him laugh and had pushed David to his very limits of perception. They had walked along the railway bridge that crossed the Ottawa River. David, a stickler for rules, had protested that they were trespassing on railway property. Every time he mentioned it, Brian would roar with laughter. “Look, man, you break me up, buddy.”

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“Well, we’re lifeguards, we’re supposed to enforce rules. We make other people follow them,” David insisted. “Yep, we do” Brian said, as they walked across the river. “Your point being?” “Well, we should respect rules like on this train bridge.” “Buddy, outside of the job, I just have one rule, and that rule is passion and compassion.” “Meaning what?” “Meaning, look out there. See this?” Brian pointed out from the bridge.” This is where we are.” David looked in the direction Brian was pointing. “Do you see it?” Brian asked. “See, what?” “Christ almighty, David. You are so fucking desperate for solitude. Have you ever in your life ever opened yourself up to anyone or anything?” David felt his anger rise, but he quickly subdued it, not allowing his friend to get under his skin. Staring blankly out over the river he had no idea what Brian wanted.. “Aw, man! Would you at least do this for me? Close your eyes. What do you feel?” Brian asked. David closed his eyes. “I feel the breeze on my face and hands.” “Good, we have established that you do feel. Now open your eyes and describe what you see.” “The Ottawa River,” David said. “Is that all? “Sure.” David shrugged his shoulders. “You know what I see out there? Images of something real, true, ecstatic, blissful, revealing, wondrous, magical, and divine. Water stretching for miles. Gulls hanging on puffs of air. And do you know what else?” David shrugged again. “I see the face of God!” With that statement, Brian walked away. David returned to reality. The sound of a door unlocking somewhere down the hall brought him back to his cell. Gone for the moment, his anger about captivity. There was something out

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there in the world that had some use for him that kept him alive. David prepared himself for a long, drawn out wait. All he could do was to live one day at a time. He was becoming accustomed to a solitary life; it wasn’t the first time he’d had to make adjustments. In one sense, there was a freedom to being in prison. The time he had to think and dream was more than he’d had in everyday life. If not for the threat of death and torture, it might have been a simple spiritual retreat. Such a life was boring, but for the inner life of the past and dreams. The prison was a place where one learned to be whole within. A realization struck him that a life of imprisonment spurs one on to remember those things that seemed to have been true. Dobrila’s presence and the visit he had from the doctor strengthened him. The situation was very confusing, but it didn’t take much to restore oneself with the odd moment of courtesy and compassion. In his travels around Bosnia, he had met General Atif Dudakovic. Dudak led his troops in operations against the Serbs and was able to overcome great odds. Dudak’s status allowed him to command as he wished and he was able to react and move at will. The leader was one bright light among the Muslims. David admired him because of his disciplined courage and beliefs. The cry of his troops was Allahu Akbar, God is Greater. They believed in truth, justice and God. They were disciplined, and despite David’s requirement of neutrality, he had admired their courage and resolve. His thoughts returned to Brian. David had watched as Brian continued across the bridge. David remained where he was and continued to look out across the wide expansive river. He had understood what Brian meant but he could not feel it. The feelings beyond the words were elusive, beyond David’s grasp of the moment. Yet, deep down there was a faint voice whispering to him. That faint voice caused him some unease. What is it saying to me? he asked himself. The more he tried to hear it within, the more elusive it was. Frustration rose but he cast it off. The voice will find its way in its

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own time, he thought. David noticed Brian heading back towards him. “What do you want?” Brian asked. “I want - - to know what you want, Brian!” David replied. Brian roared with laughter. “Well, how about jumping from the bridge?” Brian took off his shirt, kicked off his shoes, and looked at David. “We need to do something to mark this moment in time.” “Like a dog peeing on a tree, eh?” David said. “Damn, you’re a true poet. So are you up for it?” “It’s close to fifty feet, Brian!” David said, objecting. “More like forty feet. Are you up for it or what?” Taking off his shirt, David wasn’t enthusiastic but would make the jump anyway. They climbed over the railing and looked over the edge. “On three,” Brian said. “One, two, three.” Brian leapt and after a moment of hesitation, David lunged out into the air, squeezing his heels together tight and keeping his chin up. The air rushing by his ears as the sense of acceleration engulfed him, he braced for impact. Then the smack of the water, some pain and his slower descent into the river. As the descent slowed, he started a smooth climb, kicking back to the surface, at last breaking into the air. There were noises outside of David’s cell. They forced him back to the present situation. A couple of guards entered the cell carrying a blindfold and handcuffs. His body stiffened, he locked his teeth and vowed he would not be afraid. “Hold out your hands,” a guard said. Extending his hands and the guard cuffed him. “I must cover your eyes.” David didn’t reply. The blindfold was pulled down over his eyes. “Stand up.” David stood, and was led by the two guards out of his cell. If they were going to kill him, why the blindfold? Was there something they didn’t want him to see? Was that good? Did that not imply they would release him? He heard some nervous

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laughter. The blindfold was loose enough he saw the floor and army boots as they passed soldiers standing in a hallway. A door opened and David felt warm fresh air. He felt a sudden surge of excitement. Maybe he was being released! “Steps,” a guard said. David carefully stepped down. One, two, three steps, then hard ground beneath his boots. He was stopped and then pushed against a tall post. A guard shackled a leg iron to his ankle. The blindfold was taken off and the handcuffs removed. This wasn’t freedom but it was a step up. He had joined the ranks of the human shield.

CHAPTER 10 Anna sat in the waiting area in the Zagreb airport. The airport was small but it provided service for all cities in Europe with connecting flights to anywhere in the world. Tom was off, trying to find someone who could tell him when the UN office at the airport was going to be opened. The only way in and out of Sarajevo was via UN flights on Hercules airplanes. Anna reviewed her map. Slovenia, Yugoslavia, Bosnia, and Hungary bordered Croatia. But what interested Anna was getting to Sarajevo in Bosnia. She was frustrated that the UN office was closed with no indication as to when it would open. From the central information desk, all they told her was that Aid flights to Sarajevo were irregular. Nearly, half past noon in Zagreb, Anna figured 5:30 a.m. Chicago time. Still, too early to telephone Rudy to see if he had learned anything more about David. Managing to make a call last night in Zurich, she had received confirmation, David Warren was now listed as officially missing. Due to meet Tom, Anna dragged her luggage towards the coffee shop. When she arrived, she saw that he had ordered them both coffees. “Cream or sugar?” he asked. “I don’t remember.” She laughed. “I don’t drink coffee. Just water.” “Knew that. Ordered an extra coffee for myself. Just about to order you some water and a croissant.” “That sounds good.” She pulled out the chair and sat down. “Any luck?”

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“Well, according to the lady working at the information desk, there may be someone in the office after one.” “So we’re stuck here until then?” “Seems so. You’d better get used to it, because waiting is how we spend most of our time when it comes to dealing with the UN. In the meantime, did you get any more information on David? Any idea if he’s alive or who is holding him hostage?” “Not yet.” Anna said. “Where was he last seen?” “No idea.” “Anna, sounds like you are holding out on me. Tell me, you didn’t come over here without a clue how to find him.” She looked at him. “You did come with no idea! How do you expect to find him?” Through telepathy or magic, she thought. David would feel her presence in the country and send messages directly to her. Perhaps, she looked to the moon to hear it whisper his location. She would find him, they’d get a limo to the airport, where they would fly to France and go explore castles. That was her fantasy. However, she wouldn’t tell that to Tom. “My people are working on it,” she said. “And with some research on my end, I’ll find him. Rudy, back at the Trib, said that he’d get the location where David was last seen. Which reminds me. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to see if Rudy is in yet. Should be around six in Chicago.” “Do that, I’ll wait near the UN Office. I have quite a few contacts myself. Let me know if I can help you with anything.” “Thanks, Tom. I’m glad you’re here.” Anna left the coffee shop and headed to the telephones. Feeling exhausted, she was slow in making her way through the crowd of people. She fought back tears. Contacting Rudy would help to get her bearings again. His sense of humor and his flirtatious manner might cheer her up. The doubts faded away as she refocused her attention on the work ahead. All the telephones were being used; she could use her cell phone but preferred the better connection of the landline. As she turned around, she

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noticed an intense young man holding a sign. He turned toward her with a questioning look. The sign read ANNA Chicago Tribune. Anna felt a strange pulling sensation in her stomach. “I’m Anna.” A look of relief came over the boy’s face, then a broad smile. “Oh, I thought I missed you. I am Marko Simenic.” He extended a hand to her. Reluctantly, she shook his hand. The whole trip was taking on the quality of Alice in Wonderland. “Mr. Simenic. Who are you?” “I’m a journalist assistant now that I’ve found you. Paul Gene said that if I found you, that he would give me a job with the Tribune as your assistant.” “Oh, he did, did he? What makes you think I should believe you?” Marko handed her a faxed copy of a letter from Paul outlining the services required, and an offer. She was annoyed. The tension of surprises and the lack of routine ate at her. She was beginning to understand how years of this kind of stress could lead to burnout. “Please, understand, I have worked for TV, print, and have taken many reporters in and out of Sarajevo. I speak many languages, and most importantly, you will be kept safe.” Anna was silent for a moment. Seeing this young man who looked barely eighteen, she started to laugh. She attempted to gain control of herself and each time she tried to straighten up and say something, she laughed again. Tears started streaming down her face. Everyone was looking at her as if she were a mad woman. “I know, I know,” Marko said. “Come, sit down.” He led Anna, still convulsing with laughter and tears, to a seat. “How old are you?” she managed to sputter out. “Twenty-four.” This sent her into another round of laughter. She was losing control and the sensation scared her. Even that realization seemed

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incredibly funny. She was out of breath and her gut ached. “You need some rest. I have arranged all your requirements. Your UN press accreditation is ready and you’re booked on a UN flight for Sarajevo at 5:00 p.m. Let me find a place where you can rest till then.” “Tom,” sputtered Anna. Tom walked up to where she and Marko sat. Anna was now oblivious to what was going on. She was aware of Tom and Marko talking. All these men in her life … her brothers, her father, David, Paul, Tom, and now Marko… all seeking to guide her. She appreciated it, but also resented it. Some things she had to do herself and had proven it repeatedly, demonstrating her abilities of instinct and survival. In the end, men were good company but the strength deep within was her’s alone. The next thing Anna knew, they were in a car being driven wildly by her new friend, Marko. Anna felt as if she were drunk even though it had been years since she’d had alcohol. “It’s fatigue, Anna,” Tom whispered. Not caring, she put her head on Tom’s shoulder. Everything had a dream-like quality. She glanced at the speeding scenery from the car. There was a peculiar buzzing in her ears and at last she realized it was Tom’s voice. She had no idea what he was saying, but his tone was comforting. There were forces beyond her control now and she knew she had to let go. The car sped into the parking lot of the hotel. They followed Marko from the car and into the small lobby. To Anna it was a blur of voices, an exchange of money, then, she was led to a room. After flopping onto the bed, she felt Tom stretch out beside her. The security of his intimate contact allowed her to relax. The first part of her journey had ended. She fell into a half sleep, slipping into a place between memories and dreams. They were eight-years-old. She had traveled with David and his family to a sandcastle contest. There was no one to tease her about her friendship with a boy. No one to tell her that a girl doesn’t associate with a boy unless he was more than a friend. The trip allowed her to forget about the kids snickering behind their backs or the rumors that

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made their way around school. Gone were the confused feelings concerning her sandcastle partner. They arrived at the hotel at the end of a long car ride. David’s mom and dad took them swimming at the hotel pool. Afterward, they lay on the bed watching TV together, laughing at the silliness. Out of sheer exhaustion, they fell asleep on the same bed. David’s dad covered them up during the night and let them sleep. No one said a word about it. Now, Anna felt a gentle nudging on her shoulder. The intrusion was somewhat annoying. “Anna, we have to go,” the voice said. She opened her eyes and saw Tom. ‘Go where?’ her inner voice asked having no idea where she was or why Tom was there. Bit by bit, she remembered. David. “Marko has arranged everything, we should be on a plane within an hour on our way to Sarajevo,” Tom said. Anna turned to him with some surprise. Consciousness came back to her through heavy veils. She looked around the room, noticed a bottle of Jack Daniels on the table, and saw Marko sitting at the table smoking a cigarette. “Hope Marko isn’t driving, Tom.” “The Jack Daniels is mine. We’re all a bit tired and jumpy. You laugh, I drink, and Marko smokes. Three musketeers, ready for a journey to hell.” His reference to the musketeers made her smile. She couldn’t have wanted for better traveling companions. “Tom, lets just go do it. Anyone know where my bags are?” “Checked them on the UN flight,” Marko said. “Marko, you’re good,” she said. Movement had taken over Anna’s spirit. Sleep had restored her and she was ready to leave. They packed into the car and headed back to the Zagreb airport. At the UN office, Marko showed their UN press cards and they received tickets for a passage on a Hercules aid flight to the Bosnian capital. The flight was short. While Tom and Marko talked, Anna watched out the window. As the plane descended, she saw ruined houses that marked the west end of

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Sarajevo. Marko and Tom seemed to know all the ropes and Anna was content to fall in behind them. She had difficulty with her bearings. The one thing she knew was that virtually every building she had seen from the air had received some sort of damage. As she watched, Marko arranged transportation to the hotel. She made note of his use of charm. Everyone he spoke to seemed to be a long lost friend. Soon, they were heading to the Holiday Inn at breakneck speed, driven by someone Marko had hired. Tom leaned over. “Welcome to Sarajevo. Is it everything you ever dreamed about?” “Let’s say I’ve learned a lot in the last couple of days,” she replied. Tom chuckled. “Yeah, it’s an insane world. You might notice that we’re traveling rather fast. If we crash, get out of the car and run for cover because if the crash doesn’t kill us, the snipers will.” Anna caught a glimpse over the driver’s shoulders and noticed the speedometer was at 130 kilometers per hour. “Which is worse, the drivers or the snipers?” “Well, I’ve survived two car crashes here,” Tom said. “Have yet to be shot.” Anna nodded at the gallows humor. She had forgotten about the bantering since it had been a couple of years, she had been in a war zone. This was different, though. This theater of operation had been dangerous for the press. As a reporter, she shouldn’t think about it too much, though. For her, it was better to retreat from emotion, keep her head down, and focus on the story. The car continued to roar at top speed, the city rushing past her in a surrealistic blur. Eventually, they made their way to the Holiday Inn. The hotel was the ugliest Anna had ever laid eyes on. The car screeched into the garage of the hotel. Anna was sure she had heard gunfire as they drove into the ramshackle parking garage. So, she was here now. What next?

CHAPTER 11 “What was it like outside?” Dobrila asked. “The sun was shining, but I felt a bit like a dog chained to a post,” David replied. “I want so much to go outside. This place makes me feel sick.” David touched the wall as if to comfort her. “Sitting out there in the sunshine, got me thinking about home.” Home was not Sarajevo, where he had lived for the past three years. Here, people hated him for doing work he was so passionate about. Home was safe. “Deep River?” Dobrila asked. “Yes. I still have a small apartment there. Haven’t been home in years. It’s nothing more than a place to store my stuff.” “I don’t have a home, anymore,” Dobrila said. “I don’t know. Deep within my soul lives a sense of home. This evolves into a greater sense of home when my grandfather, Anna, and my parents invade my thoughts with kindness and love.” “When I think of my family, I get very sad.” “Why, Dobrila?” “Because my fear is never seeing them, again.” David had days like that. Some days, he thought he would never see Anna or his parents, again. He felt more hopeful, now, since he’d been taken outside. Surely the UN knew where he was. They should be able to spot and identify him through binoculars, but who knew about Dobrila? Did anyone know if she was alive or dead? Did anyone care?

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“When I was chained outside a boy threw stones at me. If I ever have children...” David paused, then chuckled. “Who would ever want to have children with me? I’m never home.” “You would be a good father.” “You think so? After dating a bit, no one seemed to be the type for me, especially to be the mother of my children.” “What about Anna?” Dobrila had him pegged. He did have fantasies of a home and children with Anna. How much had he told her? “Can I tell you something about children?” Dobrila asked. “Sure.” “My husband was shot when we ran through the streets of Visegrad. He lay on the street, dead, but I didn’t want to leave him. My life or death no longer mattered, but others pulled me along. We found refuge in an old apartment building, about ten of us. I was empty inside, sitting alone, not talking to anyone. A man holding a baby came to me and placed the infant in my arms. He asked me to keep the baby quiet as paramilitaries were prowling the streets. Not wanting the baby at first, he told me that her name was Mima and that her wounded mother couldn’t care for the child. Didn’t they know my husband was dead? Just looking around that room, I realized that everyone there had lost somebody. There was strange sense of suffering and yet strength. After a while, I was taken over by this little creature, so innocent and pure. I took her to her mother, and sat beside her. She was in tremendous pain, shot through the shoulder. Blood had soaked through her bandages and told her I was going to change them. She insisted that we feed the child first. Not wishing to cause any distress, I put the baby to her breast, rubbing the baby’s back as she suckled. The mother smiled at me and we just gazed at one another. Mother to mother, we knew. Mima fell asleep there. I changed the woman’s bandages, and then she instructed me to get a bottle from a diaper bag. I helped fill the bottle with her breast milk. She had me write down her parent’s address in Sarajevo and begged me that if anything happened to take Mima there.

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That night we heard noises in the building. The militia were rampaging from room to room. We climbed through broken glass of a second story window down to the street below. The militia were close, now, and Mima’s mother stood at the window looking down at us. She said to catch her baby, and leaned out the window as far as she could, dropping Mima to the ready arms of the men. A man who caught the little one gave her to me as I whispered to the mother, pleading with her to come. She looked at me and said, “I know you will take care of Mima. God will keep you.” Then she walked away from the open window. We heard loud noises and I was pulled along with Mima, running through the streets once more. For two weeks, we walked or received rides in trucks. My day was full, looking for milk. Searching out other women for milk, or begging farmers for goat’s milk. During that time, I wasn’t sad or scared. My whole purpose was Mima, and reaching Sarajevo as fast as possible. Once in Sarajevo, I wanted to keep Mima. Loving her so much, I thought she was mine now. Her grandparents might not love her as I did. For two days, we stayed in a refugee center. Everyone thought she was my baby, but haunted by my promise to the child’s mother, I took Mima to her grandparents. They were good people. Mima would be better off with family. When I left, sadness filled me about everything. Babies and children do that to people.” David sensed her sorrow. Listening to Dobrila gently weeping, he couldn’t imagine the hardships that the woman had endured. His own situation seemed to shrink in comparison. Despite his problems, the last few days dealing with guards and the doctor had given him hope. The kindness shown him could be taken away at any moment. The mind was very cruel. Once the torture is finished, it replays over and over, again. Would he or Dobrila ever feel safe and secure, again? “David, what are you thinking?” “That you’re a very brave woman.” “I am not brave.”

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“Anna and I had a code when we were children.” “What kind of code?” “When we were scared, we would say there were monsters under our beds.” “There are monsters under my bed,” Dobrila said. “Were there monsters under your bed when you had Mima?” “When I had a baby to care for. There was no time to be scared.” “You have your children in Belgrade.” “And you have Anna in Deep River.” “Chicago. She lives in Chicago, now.” “I hear something, David. I think the monsters are coming.” David listened carefully. There was commotion in the hallway. Getting up from the floor, he sat on the cot. A key turned in the door. The noise grabbed at his nerves, his muscles stiffened. A couple of guards entered the room. “Put this on,” a guard said, throwing a blindfold at David. Putting the blindfold in place, he extended his hands out to be cuffed. Following the same routine as when they had taken him outside to be a human shield. This was odd. Nightfall neared. With guards on either side of him, he was led out of the cell. He sensed moving down a hallway, shuffling along beside his guards until they came to an abrupt halt. Hearing a door open, he was pushed a few feet, then, shoved down into a chair. His blindfold removed. Cuffing his hands to a chair, the guards left the room without a word. In front of David, a video camera mounted on a tripod. Alone in the room, he suspected the mirror on a wall was two-way. Was he being watched? David knew that confinement caused psychosis and an alienation of perception. His longing for his cell and Dobrila was a symptom. They gave each other their stories, which offered relief. Here he was scared. Focusing on Dobrila, he thought of the story, she had just told him, but his mind jumped from place to place. Next, he tried thinking of work, which held purpose and meaning. Working for the UN was a frustrating experience; the lack of clear

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directives with clear consequences, making the situation understood in Bosnia a nightmare. Sometimes he found himself complaining to any sympathetic person he could find. Then, once released from the resentment and pressures that built up, he concentrated on his job and took small satisfactions in getting done what he could. Despite its many frustrations, he missed his job and the freedom to complain. Now, he was powerless to do anything about his current situation. He missed the attention he gave to others. The care and attention kept him going when the job was tough. The look of relief on a mother’s face, a faint smile from a child, these small treasures had moved him to tears at times. All was quiet. No sounds of artillery or gunfire. Was there another cease-fire, a holiday from misery and destruction? How close was he to Sarajevo? He might be minutes away from his room and office for all he knew. A key turned in the door. The colonel walked in with two other guards. “Mr. Warren, you’re looking well today.” David felt himself submerge, dreading another round with his host, Spider. “It’s time you went to work, Mr. Warren. Your time here should be put to some sort of use.” David bit his tongue. He’d learned his uninvited remarks brought painful consequences. The colonel motioned the guard to the camera. “I will ask you some questions before we tape, a rehearsal. Do you understand?” Would it matter if he didn’t understand? Nodding, he hoped gave them the impression he understood. “What is your name?” “David Warren.” “Who do you work for?” “United Nations Emergency Relief.” “What do you do in that capacity?” “Coordinate the distribution of food and medical supplies.”

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“To the Muslims.” “To anyone who needs it.” “Mr. Warren, you know it and I know it. You distribute food to Muslims while our Serb brothers and sisters starve. The UN is not neutral, as is mandated.” “I don’t ask if a person is Muslim, Serbian or Croatian. I work in areas where people are in need.” “Listen, my friend, it will be much easier if you answered the questions without all the usual UN rhetoric.” “I’m doing my best.” “The best is not winning you a ticket out of here. Your best may be your complete undoing. Let’s say we make a good tape. Why do we make it?” “The truth is, I want to live.” “So do we, with pride, and the right for self determination without threat of NATO air strikes.” “I can’t change that. This tape can’t change that. I’ve been in Bosnia for three years now; the only thing that keeps me sane is that I feed people. I don’t pretend to know anything more than that.” “At least you are consistent, Mr. Warren. The UN has prolonged this whole horrible situation. You feed our enemies who otherwise would have submitted by now. The real truth is that you have subsidized misery, have fed it and have prolonged the inevitable.” Spider’s insight was like a bad dream. In private, David had wondered if they had in fact fueled the war and kept it going, not for the reasons that Spider thought, but out of sheer indecisiveness and incompetence. The UN had bungled the whole bloody affair, and NATO was waiting in the wings to bail them out. “We are going to tape now. Whether you go home is up to you, Mr. Warren.” No, it wasn’t up to him. He knew that. Nothing was up to him. The questions came, and David tried to keep his tone as flat and neutral as possible. Some of the answers seemed to please the colonel and some didn’t. What did it matter? They would edit the

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tape however they wished. As the taping went on, David could see that Spider was becoming agitated with his answers. He felt drained, answering each question with his true feelings. Suddenly, Spider jumped up, putting his hand over the camera. “Enough!” he shouted. “Turn it off!” With the camera off, Spider grabbed David by the collar, pulling him to his feet. “You are a very stupid man!” He punched David in the stomach. Doubling over in pain, he was kicked from behind and fell to the floor. As he curled up into a ball trying to protect himself, blow after blow was delivered to every inch of his body. Then the colonel struck him across the mouth, driving his front teeth deep into his lower lip. Blood spewed, and his tongue traveled along chipped teeth. The Colonel took his hand, twisting it upward, holding a knife against David’s throat. “Just… kill me… and get it over… with,” David moaned before slipping into unconsciousness.

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CHAPTER 12 The Holiday Inn was the war hotel for reporters. Anna wondered what kept the crumbling building erect. From Tom’s news footage, she had seen how artillery fire had obliterated the southern side. Serb gunners liked to remind the reporters routinely that they were not exempt from the war that ravaged Sarajevo. Broken glass carpeted the corridors. The journalists who had been there for some time took it all as part of a normal day. Anna banged out a story on her laptop. Even though she had a compatible power adapter for her computer, she relied on battery power. The currency fluctuations in the building’s electrical system made her nervous. With only three batteries, she recharged them in CTV hotel room where they’d set up electrical system that protected against the power fluctuations. Writing a personal piece about sniper alley, she described the destruction of the city. The story wasn’t new, but she hoped to take the reader through war torn streets at breakneck speed. She was anxious to get the story off to justify her presence in Sarajevo. Another round of artillery fire broke her concentration. With each blast, she crouched lower, fearful that at any moment metal fragments would fly across the room. Her article would end, by introducing the missing UN worker, David Warren. The ending would set up future stories. She typed: Former neighbors and friends, who once shared the hospitality of their homes together, now seek blood and revenge against one another. A knock interrupted her last sentence. Leaving her laptop, she

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walked to the door and peeked out the peephole. She saw a man of about fifty, tall and imposing, with a massive, strongly marked face and a commanding figure. He was dressed in a tweed sports jacket, which seemed out of place. Because of the jacket, she had noticed him before in areas where journalists congregated. “Who is it?” she asked. “Michael Gibbons of the London Herald.” Anna opened the door a crack with the security chain on. “Are you Anna from the Chicago Tribune?” “Yes.” “You’ve been asking about David Warren?” “Do you know something?” “Are you going to let me in?” Anna unlatched the flimsy security chain and opened the door. The man who claimed to be Gibbons, followed her into her room. Gesturing for him to sit, she took a chair opposite him. “David is known by some of us journalists. He was always willing to speak to us if we agreed not to use his name. What I want to know is, what is your interest in David?” Anna looked at Michael, wondering if she had been had. Was this another reporter looking for a lead? “I think it’s an important story,” she said slowly, scrutinizing him. “Anna, what is happening here is different from other conflicts. Not much of it makes any sense. The people were never very religious, and now religion is being used as a political tool for criminals and thugs who thirst for power.” “What does this have to do with David?” “David is just not a story for us who know him. Do you understand that?” “I’m listening.” “Listening doesn’t mean understanding. We’ve kept the news about David pretty hushed for now, wanting to give the UN a chance to see if they can find out anything through their Serbian channels.” “I’m not going to do anything that might jeopardize that.

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Can you tell me what you know?” “David was last seen driving from a UN outpost on June 1, heading toward a Muslim suburb on the outskirts of Sarajevo. He was scouting out the conditions of a community that was surrounded by the Serbs. We don’t want to take chances if he is still alive.” “He is still alive,” Anna said. Michael gave her a quizzical look. “Do you know something?” “No, just a hunch.” “Well, I hope your hunch is right.” “How do you know David?” “It’s a small town when looking for a drink. Over the last couple of years, David directed me to stories that were important to him, but because of his job, he had to be quiet.” “So, you’re a drinking buddy?” “What kind of reporter are you, Anna?” “A sober one.” “This is very serious. Most reporters would just see this as a story and a career opportunity. David thought reporters could do better, and so do I.” Anna had questioned and interviewed people for years. She could tell by looking at Michael that he knew more than he gave out. She surmised that when Michael met her gaze, he was telling her things he believed in, but when he looked away, he was withholding information. “You know David is alive and you know where he is.” Michael was silent. His face showed no expression. “Where is he?” Michael just shrugged. “What is the point of putting on this elaborate masquerade?” she asked. “The point is simple. This is a delicate matter, requiring a degree of self-control that most reporters don’t have. The most difficult thing in a reporter’s work is to hold back a story.” Having heard everything he said, she had mixed feelings. Anxiety blended with an overwhelming elation of relief.

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“Where is he, Michael?” “If I tell you, what will you do with the information?” Not knowing how to answer, she was silent. She had never known. From the time she left Chicago, her fuel was instinctdriven. “Can I ask a silly question, Anna?” Perturbed, she nodded, anyhow. “What do you know about sandcastles?” “What?” “Do you know anything about sandcastles?” “Yes. Quite a bit.” “Did you have a childhood friend that you built them with?” “You know, don’t you?” Anna’s voice was subdued. “I suspected. The coincidence seemed rather remarkable. David never told me you were a reporter.” “He told you about sandcastles?” She felt a wave of emotion rush up into her throat, choking off words. “People here need friends, we drink, and tell intimate stories and what have you. Chalk it up to a reporter’s instinct. But a reporter named Anna arrives here asking about David Warren. I think I have the makings of a heart-warming story.” Michael reached into his coat pocket and pulled out an envelope. Then he withdrew some photographs and placed them in front of Anna. Anna examined the pictures. The photos were black and white, taken from a distance and a bit out of focus. The man in the picture seemed thinner than David, and his face sported a ragged beard. But there was no mistaking those eyes. Michael pointed to the picture and said, “We are two miles from the building where this picture was taken, an old warehouse converted into a makeshift command post for the Serb Army. This man is chained to a post each morning. My guess is that the general press will discover him, soon. Moreover, from my experience of hostage takings, the Serbs are counting on it. NATO won’t bomb a building with a UN hostage standing in front for the world to see.”

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A lump formed in her throat. “That’s David.” Anna hadn’t expected the rush of emotion as she looked at the picture and realized that it really was him. She still had held a secret hope that, somehow, the hostage was another David Warren. Michael put a comforting hand on her shoulder, “A headline on this right now makes negotiations very difficult. However, given another day or two, other reporters are bound to want to make page one. My thoughts are that by revealing David, the Serbs are trying to raise his propaganda value. The higher his value to them, the longer they may keep him. The UN has kept reporters away from the area, telling them it’s too dangerous, but it’s a matter of time before the information spills.” “Have you interviewed Serbian commanders before?” “Yes.” “How would I get an interview?” “With whom?” “The ones holding David. How do we talk to them?” “There are UN channels and then there are Muslim soldiers who are in regular contact with their Serb enemy. They talk to each other through radios and arrange for face-to-face meetings to exchange prisoners and the dead.” “Can you arrange a meeting for me with one of your contacts?” “I can try, but, why?” “They want press. We want David. Let’s negotiate.” “Not that easy, Anna.” “Has to start somewhere. Do you know Tom Filmore from CTV news?” “Yes.” “Can we find a way to get a camera on David? We need information and the more we have the better. I promise, Michael, neither Tom nor I will release this story without your permission. We will not file a story until we talk to you.” A plan was forming in Anna’s mind as she talked with Michael and gained his trust and understanding. After he left, Anna went back and rewrote the conclusion of her story. For now, there would be no more mention of David.

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Once finished, she picked up her laptop and headed out of the room and down the corridors to where CTV had its operations. Tom had arranged for her to file the stories through CTV’s satellite phone. In the room, through the cigarette smoke, Anna caught a glimpse of three men hovering by a television monitor. They talked together in strange, low tones, their conversation coming in forms of grunts and groans. The three men struck her as Larry, Daryl, and Daryl of the old Bob Newhart Show. The Vermont Audiovisual Club was crammed with equipment. There were editing machines, radio transmitters, fax machines, various camera equipment plus tables and chairs. Moving through the cramped room, Anna squeezed through the chairs to reach the phone. All the while Larry, Daryl, and Daryl paid no attention to her. Anna downloaded her story, talking to Rudy briefly as she watched Tom’s cohorts editing tape. “Can I use the radio to get hold of Tom?” “Sure, help yourself,” said one of the Daryls. She picked up the radio mike. “This is Anna. Can you read me, Tom?” “Loud and clear,” the radio crackled. “I got him, Tom,” she said. “Wow, Anna, that was fast!” “When can you get back here?” “For most humans, an hour, but the way Marko drives, maybe thirty minutes.” “Good. By then, I’ll have the location on the map for you. Tenfour, Tom.” “Ten-four, Anna, see you in a bit.” “Thanks, guys,” she said as she flew out of the room. All she could think of was that every second David spent as a hostage, he was at risk. She would put her tenacity at the disposal of anyone who wanted to help free him. They could all benefit from David’s release. Tom, Michael, and the Tribune would all get their stories. She believed it, and that belief kept her going. A potential problem

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that bothered her was David’s aversion to authority. Just give us time, she thought. Back in her room, she set her laptop back on her desk and sat down, with her only thought being, when in doubt, write. Typing her next story, she waited for Tom and Marko to return. The latest update on David was challenging her concentration, as were her worries about justifying the Tribune’s expenditures. She’d sent one story out, but needed to do more. Otherwise on Wednesday, there might be a blank spot in the Trib where her column should go. She plugged away at the computer until there was pounding at her door. Tom came bounding through the door, exclaiming, “He’s crazy, Anna! Marko is a complete maniac behind the wheel!” “What?” Marko threw up his hands. “He wants me to drive like some old lady waiting for a sniper’s bullet.” Tom took off his flak jacket and threw it on Anna’s bed. Anna could tell the bantering was all in jest. Neither seemed really upset. Anna explained her conversation with Michael. “What’s our next move?” Tom asked. She closed her eyes and sighed. “Tomorrow morning you and Marko will set up a video camera and aim it on the warehouse while I try to establish contacts.” “They won’t let the press near him. What makes you think they’ll let you talk to him?” “I’ll find a way.” She attempted to assure them. How, though?

CHAPTER 13 Explosions ripped through the building, tearing David from his cot. Debris flew in all directions, reducing his cell to shreds. The walls crumbled around him and he sought safety on the floor. He heard Dobrila scream through the dust. Grabbing her hand, he pulled her through the fallen walls. Guards rushed toward them while artillery fire lit up the night sky. Ahead, David could see the river. If he could just get to the water, they would be safe. Dobrila tripped and fell hard against the concrete. “Come on Dobrila,” he shouted. “We’re almost there.” “Leave me, David.” Dodging the sniper fire, he pulled Dobrila up by the arm and carried her toward a bridge. Suddenly, the colonel appeared in their path. Cruel laughter rolled from the back of his throat. “Out for a little stroll tonight?” The sniper’s bullets grew closer. David didn’t have time to stop. “Get the hell out of my way,” he shouted, reaching out to shove Spider. The colonel lifted his AK 47 and pulled the trigger. The blast echoed in David’s ears. “No!” he screamed as Dobrila’s neck snapped back and a slow trickle of blood dripped from between her eyes. David woke with a start, drenched in sweat, his body trembling. Explosions sounded nearby. He tried to get his bearings. What was the nightmare, reality or a dream? He imagined a hurricane of shrapnel tearing him to bits, and found himself cowering on the floor, hands clasped over his ears, waiting for the carnage of an exploding shell. He counted the seconds between the explosions.

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Each blast seemed to move further away like a thunderstorm moving on. Then everything suddenly stopped. Flat against the floor, he inched toward the floor drain. “Dobrila,” he whispered. “Is it over?” she whispered. “Seems to be for now.” Feeling safer on the floor, David grabbed his pillow and blanket from the cot. By the drain, he tried to listen for Dobrila’s breathing remembering his nightmare and those fears buried inside him yearning for release. He did not attach any great meaning to it. The ultimate objective to any nightmare is to wake up. The dream wasn’t the type he could share with Dobrila. Confinement was turning him inward. Here, in the black of night without bottom, lies the pit. To avoid that pit, he imagined a conversation with Anna. “How are you?” she asked. “Miserable.” “Why?” “I’ve been beaten more times than I can count and locked up in the cold and dark for days. I’m going crazy from loneliness and fear.” “Would you like to build a sandcastle?” “What?” “A sandcastle?” “Sure,” he said. In his visual image, he dug deep into the sand. He knew that the initial process for building and design would be steered by him. Anna followed his actions and cues. They would work things out, deciding what had substance and what needed to be reworked. Every action in building prompts another decision and each decision starts another action. Reaching the water table, he and Anna began making sand patties. The towers went up quickly and methodically. David found himself slipping pleasantly into routine. The solid walls took shape around the towers. Imprisonment was not a sandcastle of his making. Serbian

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rage with the UN was a punishment imposed on him. The memories and imagination were his making. His thoughts of Anna, Grandpa, and the beach brought clarity, bypassing his fear. Sleep eased to him as he gently let go. The rest of the night he slept, anticipating his posting outdoors after daybreak. But he woke to the rain pattering against the metal shudders. No one came for him. There was not much to do but pace his cell and talk to Dobrila through the drainpipe. They tried to regain some sort of normalcy after a fearful night. “There is only one thing worse than work, Dobrila.” “What’s that?” “Having no work to do.” “What did you do with the UN?” “Everything and anything. Coordination of food convoys took up most of my time. On occasion, when there were heavy casualties, I assisted in sorting out the dead. Going through the pockets of the dead looking for identification, looking at their papers and photos. Stuffing what I found in envelopes, hopefully so that the items could be returned to their families. Did some training with volunteers to do the work, too.” “I was one of those volunteers. Didn’t meet you, though.” “Why did you volunteer?” David asked. “Living and being alone was hard for me. Feeling sorry for myself all the time. Having work kept me occupied in a satisfying way. I felt this work was doing some good.” Finding purpose in activity made sense to David. Many of the volunteers came looking for relatives. They’d come to work, whether they found loved ones or not … people who had lost their purpose but found something useful among the dead. “How did you learn English?” “My father worked in importing and exporting, mainly with the British. He helped firms doing business in Yugoslavia. For him, English was a requirement for business. My two brothers, my sister, we all learned the language. Once married, I moved to Srebrnica, getting a job at a law firm because of my ability in English.”

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A crash in the hallway stopped Dobrila from explaining further. David hoped they were coming for him. Welcoming any contact with people whether they were hostile or not. Almost anything was better than being stuck in his cell. To ease the boredom, he constructed ideas about how to escape. Thoughts of escape were very exciting at first. Then he realized why each scheme would fail. Providing him with the belief that he was too timid to escape. Each time he glimpsed an idea, it faded away. He wanted to come to terms with his situation. The first rule of survival is never give up. Never. If you do, you can never take advantage of the quirks of fate that might save you. The pattern of his life was the need for structure and a desire for social contact. Meeting people through performing some sort of job together was easier for him. Whatever work he performed, he worked hard at it, no matter how hopeless. His grandfather had told him that there were more reasons to give up than there were to endure. That idea had stuck with him and whenever he wanted to give up, he remembered his grandfather. The problem with the cell, however, was what to do with this abundance of energy. If his energy did not find an outlet, it would start to feed a fearful imagination. Exercise was what he needed. To run, pump iron or swim. Since a swimming pool was out of the question, he began pacing the room counting each step. It was seven paces across the cement floor. He worked at the math estimating distances. His breathing became rhythmic while his mind churned out numbers. Two hundred trips made close to a mile. He walked at a brisk pace. “What are you doing?” Dobrila asked through the drain. David sat by the drain. “Walking.” “Why?” “Exercise.” “I heard you breathing heavily. Thought something was wrong.” “You mean other than being locked up?” Dobrila laughed, then groaned and a wheezed.

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“Are you okay?” David asked. “Yes, it hurts to laugh. My ribs are sore.” “Has the doctor seen you?” “No.” “Have you asked to see the doctor?” “I learned not to ask for anything. Every time I have said anything, they slap me, adding to my pain.” The next time the doctor visited, David decided, he would ask for her. How would he do it? Could he trust the doctor? Anyone who would take an interest in her might improve her condition. The more people who knew about Dobrila, the better. “What are your injuries like?” David asked. “My nose is broken, ribs either bruised or cracked, and there is a deep bruise on my leg where they kicked me. What bothers me is that I can’t stay clean, but this cell is clean. I have stayed in places that were infested with fleas and lice.” “How did you get here?” “My plan was to get to my children in Belgrade. The Red Cross told me arrangements might be made. After weeks of waiting, I thought they had forgotten me. Word came that a bus for Serbs was heading to Belgrade during the cease-fire. Happy about the news, I told everyone about returning to my children. Finally the day came when I boarded the bus. We crossed the bridge into Serbian held territory. The soldiers came aboard and we showed them our documents. They looked at mine that said that I was from Visegrad. They forced me to leave the bus, stating documents must be filled out before I went to Belgrade. I protested but they kept saying it is only a formality. They questioned me for hours. I thought the best way to deal with it was to tell the truth. That was a mistake. The more I told them, the angrier they became. They started calling me names, saying I was a Turk whore. I was so scared that I stopped talking. They beat me, and brought me here.” They didn’t want the truth. David wondered how much Dobrila told them about Visegrad. Perhaps they were afraid she

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would tell people in Belgrade how their Serbian brothers slaughtered civilians. Information of senseless killings would put a dent in their noble cause. The truth hadn’t matter here. “Are you scared?” she asked. “Not at the moment. You?” “I get scared at night, whenever someone is in the hallway. I have nightmares about being attacked or chased.” “Don’t know how, but I’m going to try to help you.” “You have helped me just by being here.” He wished he could do more. Through her words, she had relayed a procession of images concerning her nightmare. Memories of her life wove all around him. Her voice revealed the pain and torment that ate at her. There they were, closed off from the rest of the world, taking a bit of comfort in conversation and company. Did anyone in the world know or care?

CHAPTER 14 At the refugee center, a baby girl sucked on Anna’s finger while the infant’s mother spoke. Marko translated the woman’s testimonies into a pocket recorder. “Mrs. Gerovic is thirty years old and the mother of two,” Marko said. “I need the recorder for a second,” Anna said, reaching out to take it from his hand. Anna pressed the recorder button and spoke, “Mrs. Gerovic looks much older than her thirty years. Worn and ragged, her eyes are red, with dark circles. Sitting among ten women, she wrings her hands when speaking. Our interview takes place in the main room of a substandard Red Cross refugee center. The damp walls, and peeling paint, adds to the dismal atmosphere for these displaced mothers.” Anna handed the recorder back to Marko, resuming rocking the baby while listening to his translation. “They killed my husband right before my eyes. I ran with my daughter, but they grabbed me by the hair and pulled me into a building. Seven men raped me. They told me if I cooperated, my daughter would be safe. Concentrating on my child, I endured their torture. Afterwards, they threw me outside. In a daze, I searched for my daughter. Darkness had come, when I found her. She was naked and bleeding, just outside the building where they had raped me. I ran to her, picking her up to comfort her, but she wouldn’t respond. Her eyes were lifeless, not focusing on anything. There was no one to help us, nowhere to turn to, so we dealt with

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it in our own way.” “Ask her how old her daughter was,” Anna said. Waiting as Marko translated her question, she looked at Mrs. Gerovic’s tear streaked cheeks when the woman replied. “Eleven,” Marko said. Anna couldn’t back away from the painful questions that needed to be asked. Mrs. Gerovic was a rare find as most of the women in her culture were so ashamed of being raped that they wouldn’t share their stories. If Mrs. Gerovic had the courage to bare witness, then she and Marko had to be brave enough to listen. Brave enough to ask the questions and then try to write a story to do the people justice of sorts. Back in Chicago, Anna imagined people sitting on their comfortable sofas glancing over the article, reading about people suffering more than their share of heartache, maybe shaking their heads and muttering about the horror. Then going about the rest of their day as if nothing had happened. Mrs. Gerovic spoke fast and gestured at Anna to take the picture that she held. “She says it’s her family before the war,” Marko said. Anna studied the picture of a happy family on a snow-covered mountain. A handsome man held his arm around Mrs. Gerovic, smiling. A little girl with long black hair stood in front of her parents, grinning into the camera. Marko continued to translate as Mrs. Gerovic spoke. “Life is fragile. I know that now. The baby you hold came not from love but from the torment of brutal men. Even so, that beautiful baby is mine, and I will do my best to love and protect her. Out of something so horrible came this precious child.” Mrs. Gerovic wiped the tears with a plain white handkerchief. Reaching out for her baby, Anna, gently handed the infant to her mother. “My apologies for the questions I must ask,” Anna said. “Having you recall these horrific events ... please know, I appreciate your honesty.” They left the UN refugee center in a subdued mood. Marko

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drove in silence through the city streets. The bullet-pocked buildings and rubble-strewn streets flew by. The Bosnian Serb bombardment left much of the city uninhabitable. Broken buildings and fragmented landscape only showed part of the story. The destruction of brick and mortar didn’t show the shattered lives of the people. Anna wanted to grasp an understanding of these people so that she could portray them in a powerful way when writing her articles. People back home needed to know that this was real - that the suffering and the pain wasn’t made up for entertainment, but a part of everyday life. There was a balancing act to perform between her desire for David’s safe return, and the story of a people living in a city under siege. “Doesn’t look good,” Marko said. The car slowed to a crawl. “What?” Anna asked. Traffic was stopped ahead. Heavy machinegun fire and the thumps of mortar shells swept up the road. Marko stopped the car, then threw it in reverse. The Land Rover was raked with automatic fire. People ran for cover while a truck rolled down the road, hitting a lamppost. “When I stop, roll out and head for shelter in a hurry,” Marko shouted. The car went over the curb, onto the sidewalk. Anna opened the door, keeping low she ran for the alley. Bullets skipped off the Land Rover and pavement all around her. Before reaching the safety of the alley, she hit the pavement. Marko positioned himself between the sniper fire and Anna, dragging her the rest of the way to the alley where they huddled together. “Is it safer here than in the Land Rover?” “Don’t know for sure, Anna, but mortar shells can open vehicles like a tin can, even when they are armored.” Anna didn’t want to be here. In a split second, needles of metal fragments could pierce their bodies and tear them to shreds. She tried to hide her trembling hands from Marko. “Do you think we can make our way back to the hotel on

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foot?” she asked, calmly as possible. “They’d shoot us before we took ten steps, Anna. Marko flipped a Marlboro into his mouth. As if the hotel was any safer, she thought. The Holiday Inn was only three hundred yards away. Explosions seemed to be occurring in the area of the hotel. “What do we do now?” she asked. “Wait.” Marko sat, leaning his back against the wall as if settling in for the night. “I hate waiting.” “I’ve noticed, but this is Bosnia. There are times to rush and times to wait. Knowing when to do one or the other may save your life.” “Rules for your turf?” “Yes, that’s my job. Are you scared?” “Terrified.” “Good. When you stop being scared, it’s time to go home.” Marko appeared calm, but his pale complexion, and the rapid draws he took on his cigarette, said otherwise. “Sorry,” Anna said. “Talk to me. Need to talk or I’ll freeze up.” “Freeze up?” Marko asked. “You know, too scared to move or to think. Just tell me how do I get to David. So far, every channel has led to a dead end.” Marko just nodded. As gunfire echoed from the street, Anna hugged her knees, pressing her back against the brick wall. “Come on, Marko. How do I get to David?” “I’m thinking about that. ” “Yeah, I can smell the smoke.” “What?” Marko turned his head toward Anna, giving her a quizzical look. “Just an expression.” “Oh, like freeze up,” Marko said. “Need some impulsive action of some kind. Thinking too much only gives me time to dream up reasons why something won’t work. You know the situation here better than the UN or any reporter.”

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“There might be another way,” Marko said. “What?” “The Mafia.” “What?” “Yes, you know, black market. They have contacts everywhere with their trading of food, equipment, and weapons.” Anna mulling it over, feeling uncomfortable with the approach. Her reporting had made her suspicious of criminal types. If they messed up, she would lose their one opportunity and her credibility. What would it cost them? “What could we give them in exchange, if they managed to get me in to see David?” “Who knows, until we ask. Sometimes it’s a favor, other times it’s something they have difficulty getting. Everyone deals with them. Where do you think most of our food at the hotel comes from?” Anna thought maybe she was being too cautious. A moment ago she was ready to run back to the hotel by foot. The term Mafia bogged her down. If Marko thought it might be an avenue to pursue, perhaps it was worth a shot. “Say we want to try. How?” she asked. “We have to establish our credentials with some contacts. The problem here is trust. There is no mutual trust. They deal in goods and have no need for powdered milk. They’re interested in hard currency US dollars, German marks, and the like. I’m afraid you don’t have enough money.” “So where does that leave us?” “The Chicago Tribune.” Anna laughed, “We offer them the Tribune?” “No,” Marko said. “Do an interview with one of their bosses. They like press, if it’s good press.” Anna hated the idea. However, there was a story there if she could do it right. The brutal terror that dominated the war-torn country had only one reliable institution left. The Black Market, or the Mafia, as they called it. “Tell me, is he worth all of this?” Marko asked.

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“Have you ever had a friend? Someone you would risk everything for if they were in trouble?” “Yes.” “David is that to me.” “Ah, I understand this. It is good for me to understand. Because we do risk a lot here.” “Tell me about your friend,” she said. “Ah, my friend, he is dead now.” “I’m sorry.” “It’s okay. Go to any home here, and they will tell you the same thing about a son, a mother, or a friend.” She didn’t want to push him, but at the same time, it seemed important to know. “Would you tell me about your friend?” Marko threaded his fingers together and squeezed his hands as if massaging some phantom pain. “I can’t tell you about it right now.” Beneath the bearded young face was a vulnerability that was becoming more visible. Anna reached over and touched his arm. “Another time. May I tell you a bit about David?” she asked. Marko nodded as he peeked around the corner of the building in the direction of the sniper fire. “David and I grew up together. We spent much of our free time together. Not sure sometimes... but we had some sort of bond… a bond of faith, believing in one another. Both of us became confident because our friendship built that confidence.” Marko smiled and chuckled. “What’s so funny?” “Hard to imagine you lacking confidence after watching you with other reporters, the UN and the military. I think you scare them sometimes,” Marko said. “Thank you. I pride myself on being a good actress. Anyway, when I was a kid, people picked on me. My life changed when my friendship began with David. The man he is, is why we are here now.” “What do you mean?” “Well, when we were in school, David took people under his

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wing. Protecting them from the bully. Who is right and who is wrong didn’t matter to him. What matters to him is that there are people in need. Giving up the comforts of his home, to help others who had lost theirs. I know David wanted purpose. That is what brought him to this country.” “Sounds like a good man.” “He is a good man. So are you. If you get us out of this alive, that is.”

Sandcastle Memories

CHAPTER 15 “My husband was a football player,” Dobrila said. “In North America we call it soccer,” David said. Sitting beside the drain, he looked across his dark cell with weariness. “Soccer, yes. You have another game called football. I remember watching him kick a ball around in the schoolyard with our son when the explosions began. My son had had a strange nightmare the night before that his friends were trying to kill him. His nightmare was coming true. Our life had become tense at school and at work. People who were like my own family would not talk to us because we had a Muslim name. That was my last memory of freedom. My husband kicking that ball. A small smile on his face as he watched our son trap the ball, is priceless. Sorry, I seem to be doing all the talking.” “Please, Dobrila, go ahead. I like listening.” “Are you sorry that you came to my country?” “No… I don’t know. My feelings are mixed. Don’t like being here. I wish that we’d met under different circumstances.” David looked toward the gap of the metal shutters, hoping to catch a glimpse of the moon. He wondered if he would ever manage a peaceful sleep again, without the fear of waking to see someone standing over him with a gun. “David.” “Yes?” “I am so tired of being scared,” Dobrila whispered. David took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then exhaled, forcing his own fear to dissolve. He wished he could hold Dobrila, rocking her till all her fears faded away. All he could do

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was talk. “Tell me about it.” “All I have are questions. When will this nightmare end? Will I ever go home and see my children.” “Yes.” “How do you know that?” she asked in a sharp voice. “What other choice do we have? We must believe to make it happen. Then, make it come true. No doubts about leaving this place, finding your children and my return to Canada. Then you know what?” “What?” “I’ll sponsor you and your children to come to Canada, if you wish.” “Can this happen?” “That is my hope.” He didn’t think it was a false hope. What was important to him was to be present and open with Dobrila. His presence was all he could truly offer, but if he could get out of here, he would do everything in his power to help her. “Got to get out of here,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Me, too. Remember your husband’s smile. Real moments, such as falling asleep in my grandfather’s lap. For me, each moment contains a possibility to make something better.” “When we talk, I feel hope.” “The two of us can find something that one alone might not.” “Just dread it when they take you outside. I feel so alone.” He had not thought of that. His excursions outside brought him a great deal of relief. There was a sense of freedom in being outside. Although, forces manipulated him, he was free to feel the sun and wind. “When you came to Sarajevo, did you feel alone?” David asked. “No. There were hundreds of us. We slept on a floor in a gymnasium. I helped with the children. We tried to keep the place clean, but there was not much to do. There were lots of stories about the lives we left behind. My story always started with my husband kicking the soccer ball, the explosions, then sending my children to Belgrade. Thankful that we sent them away to live. At night, there was gunfire as they shot into our homes. During the

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day, they started coming to our doors. They would barge in, demanding money, and once they had all our money, they took our cars, clothes, food, and even the children’s bicycles. Their last visit to our house was when they wrote a Serbian name on a piece of paper, which they put above the door. This Serb was to have our house. Then we lived wherever anyone would take us in. There was some comfort in the story telling. People would listen and nod, then they would tell their own stories. The refugee center was held together by these stories and shared misery. Misery did not know loneliness. David?” “Yes.” “Do you get tired of my story?” “No. It helps me. Fills me and makes me understand things that I was too busy to understand before.” “I think I hear the guards again. The guards told me that you are a spy. I don’t want them to catch me talking to you.” “That’s not true.” “I know, David. The guards will be upset if they find us talking. I don’t like to make them angry.” She was silent. David felt an overwhelming sadness. Getting up from the drain, he paced across the cell, the darkness cut only by a small dim light bulb hanging from the ceiling. The bare fixture cast a gloomy shadow over the room, but at least he could see a bit. Anxiety built within him again. Rage filled his lungs with too much energy and nowhere to direct it. He was fed up with keeping his disapproval quiet, but displaying anger could mean his life. Now cold, he stretched out on the little cot, pulling the thin blanket over his body. Closing his eyes, he allowed his mind to wander. He was a young man sitting on the rocks in Deep River. Anna was walking up the sand toward him. “I’m glad you came,” he said, gesturing for her to sit, Anna smiled but didn’t speak. “Anna?” he asked, “Do you believe in a higher power?” “A higher power?”

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“You know, God, Allah, the creator, whomever. Who runs the universe? Or is it all just left to chance?” “Somewhere in the Bible it says the kingdom of God is within.” “But what does that mean?” “To me, it means there is a refuge always available to everyone despite what our circumstances may be.” He seemed lost for the moment in her gaze, and he sensed the wonder that surrounded her as she drifted away. The cell came back into view. Feeling calmer, he tried to remember other moments with her. Memories of her brought peace. Even bruised and beaten, the thought of her soft gaze brought a smile to his lips. He had pleaded with the doctor to give him a pencil, receiving the prized possession by promising to hide it, and not let the guards know. He retrieved the paper he’d hidden behind the sink, sat on the cot, and began to write. Dear Anna, Violence and terror are not a part of my makeup. Do you remember when we were kids? There was a boy in our class. His name was Johnny. He enjoyed terrorizing the younger, smaller kids. Remember the time he wanted to fight me? You didn’t understand what drove me to act. Not sure I did either. Bullies feed on terror and we become their slaves. They don’t stop unless they are challenged. I’m not sure what Johnny wanted back then. Don’t know what happened in his life to make him want to hurt others. Perhaps, being tough was a way for him to get attention. Everyone moved out of the way when he walked down the hall. I never understood that need for power or understood taking joy in someone else’s pain. Then there was the time he came at me with a knife. He was sent to correctional school. Something happened there to change his attitude about life. The last time I saw him, he was happily married. He had a family, a wife and three beautiful kids, a job and a home to take care of. How did that happen? From a person who hurt others, to

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a family man surrounded by love. Maybe his little experience with me made him think, even for a moment, that not everyone in the world is going to give him what he wants because of his harassment. That is why I think I am here. I wanted to make a difference. Much Love, David. Folding the page, he jammed it in behind the sink. Returning to his cot, he thought about what Dobrila had said, hoping he could do more for her. The cell door rattled. The door opened and two guards stepped in. “Shower,” a guard grunted. “Now?” David asked. The timing was odd. They took him for showers in the morning and never this late. He’d love a shower, but it made him suspicious. “Yes, now, come.” David accompanied the guards out and down the halls to the showers. His fears dissolved as he was led in to the shower area. He stripped off his clothes, and left them on the bench where the guard stood. The shower was hot and it massaged his aching body. He delighted in the sensations, taking pleasure in every second. The next thing that stuck him as odd was that they were in no hurry for him to get out. Often, he barely got wet before they were rushing him to be dried and dressed. After ten minutes of sheer heaven, they called him out and handed him a towel. As they left the shower area, they turned in the opposite direction of his cell. “Where are we going?” he asked “Eat,” the guard said, grunting. David was led into a room where Serb soldiers were sitting at tables eating or drinking coffee. The room was filled with smoke as soldiers puffed away on their cigarettes. He was ordered to sit at an empty table. A guard sat with him. David looked about nervously as conversations ceased and the soldiers stared at him. Someone shouted a question at the soldier

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guarding him. The man just shrugged in response. The other guard returned to the table with a tray and placed it in front of David. The meal contained soup, bread, and tea. His guard nodded at him to begin eating. Conversations picked up in the room as David lifted the spoon to his lips. After he finished, David was led back to his cell. Once he was locked in, he noticed that there were new blankets on his cot. Things were out of place. The cot and chair had been moved. He rushed to the sink and was relieved to find the letters still there. They had purpose in wanting him out of his cell, he imagined. What were they looking for? “Dobrila,” he called, softly. There was silence. “Dobrila!” he said louder. He called out a few times and received no response. She wasn’t there. Uneasiness turned to panic.

Sandcastle Memories

CHAPTER 16 Sitting in a dingy cafe with Marko at her side, Anna waited for the arrival of the local man that ran the black-market action. Fidgeting and feeling uneasy about the meeting, she attempted to overcome her dread of the so-called Mafia boss. “Don’t worry,” Marko said. “In this country, sometimes the bad guys are safer to be with.” “How do you fit into all of this?” Anna asked. “I don’t fit into anything, but like everyone in Sarajevo, I know where to purchase fuel and cigarettes. “All this Croatian, Serb, and Muslim confrontation. What does it mean to you?” “Nationality doesn’t matter. Are you Irish or British, Mexican or Spanish? Who cares? Action, that’s what’s important. I don’t want to throw stones at people because they were born in a different culture.” Marko stood only about five-seven. His brown hair was in need of a cut. Anna noticed how he often brushed it from his eyes. She thought of him as little more than a kid, but knew he understood the community and the people. “I am Croatian, but growing up, I was taught we are all one people. My father’s people are convinced that Serbs did all the massacres. As Yugoslavs, we had a communist regime, but we were reasonably tolerant of one another. Many people buy the rhetoric put out by Serb, Muslim or Croatian media. On the evening news, Serbian commentators describe Croats as rabbits when they retreat, or pigs when they chase the Serbs. Then switching to the Muslims, they call them dogs or baby killers.”

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He took a breath, his eyes boring into her. “People say words can’t hurt. All they have to do is see what has happened here. Words produced hate. Hate produced war. I am a stranger in my own country. Milosevic and his counterparts in Bosnia and Croatia have convinced many that either you’re a nationalist or an enemy.” Before Anna could comment, a tall man appeared at the table with two burlier followers. “Hello,” he said, “I am looking for Anna McBride” Standing, she extended her hand. “I’m Anna.” “Ivica Vakuf,” he said, waving off his two men before sitting across from her and Marko. “Ivica stared at the young man. “Oh,” Anna said, realizing her lapse, “this is my friend Marko. He’s my interpreter, but it looks as if we’ll be able to understand each other.” “You are surprised I speak your language? Every good businessman must speak English, you know.” Glancing around the room, his eyes stopped on Marko. “Croatian?” Marko nodded. “My wife is Croatian, not that it matters,” Ivica said. Anna looked at him, not quite sure what to think. He wasn’t what she had expected. There was no long, deep scar on his face. No black or pinstriped suit, like in old movies. Actually, he looked like most other people in Bosnia. Ragged, but in control. “Do you think I am a gangster?” he asked. Anna paused before answering. “I’m not sure what to think.” “Rather than a criminal, just consider me a businessman. Black market, yes. What else is there to do to make a living? Here we have Serbian, Muslims and Croatians raping and killing each other. You can decide who the criminals are. Sometimes, I feel guilty. The war is making me rich! But then I remind myself, this is for my family, friends, and community. There is no gunfire or artillery fire in my neighborhood. We are peaceful and help one another with Serbs, Muslims and Croats living together. But, if harm comes to any man, woman, or child in my community or my business, the world is not big enough for that person to hide. They may try

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to disappear in Belgrade, London, Moscow, or even Chicago it doesn’t matter. We will find the individual and justice shall be served.” The mention of Chicago made Anna queasy. “Politicians that comes from Belgrade, Zagreb and Sarajevo are a joke to us. If you want to meet real gangsters, go to Belgrade. Just like Chicago in the days of Al Capone.” “You say you are a business man. What is it that you do?” “We have many ventures, but make most of our money from the control of gasoline, cigarettes, alcohol. My country has embraced a pattern of self-destruction that will lead to continuous bloodshed. I do my best to stay alive and protect my loved ones. Now, enough small talk. Tell me what you want.” “An interview with a UN worker who is being held by the Bosnia Serb army.” “Aha, David Warren!” “Yes.” she answered, surprised. “How did you know?” “David is very popular, the Serbs in charge know that I would be disappointed if harm came to him.” “How do you know David?” “You have many questions, and I have answered enough for now. Why do you want to talk with him?” Anna was suspicious of the question. However, she was prepared for it. “Mr. Warren is news. People are hungry for real life stories of those involved in this war. A picture and a story about him will sell lots of newspapers back home.” “From what I heard, your motivation was more of a personal nature.” “What do you mean?” “I have many friends and acquaintances. And, thought you would be honest about your connection to David.” Now she was worried. How many people in this country knew about her relationship with David? She looked down at the table, cupping her drink in her hand, not knowing what to answer. “You are a smart woman,” he said. “You know when to keep quiet. And so do I. Let’s both pretend the question about how we

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know our friend was never asked. For the present time, that would be best.” Marko gave her a look as if to say, ‘don’t pursue this line of questioning.’ She followed his cue and Ivica continued. “First of all, let me tell you what I can and can not do. My relationship with the Bosnian Serb army is a tense one. I have influence with some, less with others. You will get your interview with David. In return, you will write a story about a businessman whose only means of protecting his community is to operate on the black market.” “What I write has to be true,” Anna said. “Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Ivica replied. She jotted notes as Ivica spoke. He told her he managed an auto parts factory shop and when the war started, vicious gang fights erupted as groups vied for control of the black market trade. When the factory was destroyed, he found abandoned vehicles and took them to various warehouses, fixed them up and sold them for a profit. He branched off into other avenues of the black market as the UN placed sanctions on Serbia. “My story can all be verified. You don’t have to submit the story until after you talk to David. You may ask him about me, whether it is the truth.” “Why is this so important to you?” Anna asked. “This war will not last forever. If everyone thinks I am a real gangster who dealt in the black market during the war, who will do business with me?” “You’re not Mafia?” “Off the record?” Anna nodded. “Knowing, which way the wind blows is my strength. My ties are with the U.S. government, not the Italians.” This set her back a bit. Ivica appeared to be telling the truth, but the only type of U.S. connections she could think of was the CIA. Before she could question him, he stood. “It was nice meeting you, Anna. My people will be in touch with you late this afternoon.” He strode from the room without

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a glance back, his guards following like two big shadows. Anna and Marko scrambled to gathered their things and follow Ivica, but once outside, found that he and his men had already vanished. Sarajevo streets were like giant obstacle courses. Marko made his way around with miraculous speed in the CTV’s Land Rover. Negotiating a crooked path through the city, they followed a course that avoided the most hostile areas as they made a retreat back to the hotel. Anna shared Marko with CTV. They shared their Land Rover and equipment with her. It was a situation that worked out well for everyone and kept expenses down which pleased the budgetminded Tribune. The Trib seemed happy with her work on Bosnia and some of her stories had made page one. Even some photos that Marko had taken had been published with her work. “What type of connection do you think Ivica has with the United States?” Anna asked, as the vehicle careened around rubble from a crumbled building, forcing her to grab the dashboard to keep from being thrown against her driver. “He was in negotiations with a car assembly plant in the U.S., well before the war,” Marko answered, his voice more of a scream over the roar of the engine. “Do you have proof of that?” “No. It’s all gossip and rumors. Who knows what is real?” All of a sudden, the car swerved. Marko honked his horn. Swearing under his breath in Serbian, he barely avoided a collision. The driver of the other car made a rude gesture, honked his horn in return. “Oh, no, Bosnian road rage, that’s all we need,” Anna said. Marko smiled and shrugged. Back at the hotel, Marko wandered off to find Tom while she returned to her room. After showering and changing, she met the two men at the hotel’s restaurant for a late lunch. The waiter showed them to a table with a centerpiece of plastic flowers. While the waiter held the chair for Anna, Tom and Marko sat down.

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The waiter knew them by now. Without asking, he brought Tom a Jack Daniel’s, Marko a beer and a water for Anna. The hand-written, photocopied menu for lunch was sparse and chicken was the only choice of the day. Anna put down her menu. “I have to call the Tribune tonight and check in. They may have tracked down some leads for me. Ivica has something more going on than meets the eye.” “How so?” Tom asked “He knew David and it sounds as if he knows a lot of people.” “Do you think he can put you in contact with David?” “He will do it,” Marko said. “You see, he is the type of man that will not offer what he can’t do. He makes a business of delivering on promises.” “What’s the next step?’ Tom asked. “If all goes as planned, I meet with David,” Anna replied. “Who will go with you?” “Me.” Marko appeared sure of that. Anna hadn’t thought about the situation. It had been a battle just to get to this point. She watched as Tom put a folder on the table, opening it. He handed her the latest photographs of David. “How is it that these photographs haven’t hit front page somewhere?” Anna asked. “David’s friend Michael from the London Times has kept the press in line,” Tom said, “but there are cracks forming and it’s only a matter of time before somebody makes it news.” “Is that a bad thing?” Marko asked. “Michael seems to think the longer we can keep the press out of it, the better for David.” “I’m not sure he’s right,” Anna said shrugging. She was beginning to think that press was what the situation required. “By the way, what happened to our waiter? I need a nap before I phone Chicago.” “Here he comes now,” Marko said, waving toward the waiter. Even though they hadn’t ordered, the waiter brought them three dishes. That was the way things were done here. What was the sense of ordering? When they had chicken, you had chicken.

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The skillet-fried chicken, a biscuit and a couple of brown lettuce leafs was placed in front of Anna. She stared at it and became sick to her stomach. Marko looked at her, and noticed the change in her demeanor, “What’s wrong?” “Do you think he’s being taken care of?” Marko put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t think about it.” “When was the last time he had a decent meal?” “We don’t know those things, Anna, but you need to keep your strength up. Come on, eat your lunch.” She cut a small portion of chicken and brought the dry, rubbery piece to her mouth. Chewing, she cut the rest into little pieces, only semi-aware of the voices around her. Pushing the plate out of her way, she stood, dazed. “Are you okay?” “I have to get out of here.” “I’ll go with you,” Marko said, wearing a worried expression. “No, stay, I’ll be fine.” She managed a smile. “I need some rest.” Turning, she walked to the door. Back in her room, she flopped onto the bed and shut her eyes, hoping a moment of peace would relax her anxiety. Sarajevo was getting to her. The desperate conditions reminded her of what she had felt during the Los Angeles riots in 1992. Newspapers reported that racism had sparked the riots. Some reporters said it was the African-Americans breaking out of oppression the only way they knew how, but the whites were as bad when it came to the looting, the beatings, the burning down of buildings. Anna had seen it as an excuse for people to go crazy. She happened to be caught in the middle, covering the story of the four white LAPD officers who were on trial for the beating of Rodney King. The jury found the four police officers not guilty of committing any crimes, with the exception of one count of excessive force. The judge declared a mistrial on that count. At the moment, the decision was announced, rioting broke out in a small area of south central Los Angeles.

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Anna spent six days in no man’s land around the six-block area of Florence and Normandy during the riot. She could still smell the burning buildings. If there was ever a valid reason for the mayhem in LA or in Sarajevo, it had been forgotten, although she had her own theories to the causes. In Sarajevo, the fall of communism had brought fear and uncertainty. The lack of any strong democratic tradition created a vacuum, which a few political bullies filled. Those bullies filled the airwaves with hate and distrust, which, in turn, influenced the disintegration of a normal society. This breakdown of the social norms had happened here, as it did in Los Angeles. It could happen anywhere in the world. Anna realized Marko influenced her views of the situation. She was growing quite fond of the kid, and realized she trusted him with her life. She had just dozed off when an urgent pounding on her door jolted her upright. Almost running to the door, she glanced out her peephole, seeing a woman and an intense looking man in a police uniform. She didn’t recognize them. “Who is it?” she asked. “Ivica has sent me with some papers,” the woman said through the door. Being careful to keep the security chain still in place, Anna opened the door just a crack.

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CHAPTER 17 A guard pointed a 9mm Zastava pistol at David, now sitting in the interrogation room. He could see the man’s finger on the trigger. The guard’s face was grim, his mustached, weathered face suggesting he cared little about his prisoner. There was no need for the pistol; it was another form of intimidation. The door opened with a loud groan. The colonel entered with another man who remained in the shadows. Where’s Dobrila? David wanted to shout. His mind was spinning. The only thing that mattered was survival. His cell was home, and he wanted to go home and sit by the floor drain to visit with his friend. The man in the shadows removed the stub of a cigarette from its holder and inserted a new one. David was drawn to the smoldering light. The colonel came face to face with David, and smiled. “Mr. Warren, you are just filled with surprises, aren’t you?” David remained silent, unsure what was meant. “This gentleman has come to visit you today. His name is Arkan. Have you heard of him?” the colonel asked. The blood rushed from David’s face. He knew Arkan was an idol to the Serbs. Arkan had offered thousands of young men his philosophy that a good life and a good war were always possible. Arkan’s résumé included stints as a secret agent, a bank robber who had escaped from several European prisons, and was now a paramilitary leader of the dreaded Tigers division. “Ah, I can tell by the look on your face you have heard of him.” The colonel chuckled. “I am very disappointed in you. In all our conversations, you never mentioned your friend Ivica Vakuf.

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You were holding out on us. All the time you kept saying I have just come to feed the poor people of Yugoslavia.” David’s mind raced. He knew that protest was fruitless. The colonel seemed pleased with himself. He had become a commodity whose value had just increased so much so that the great Arkan had come for a visit. “So, what do you have to say for yourself?” the colonel asked. David hesitated. “I know Mr. Vakuf.” “Why did you not mentioned this before?” “Why would I? Everyone who wants gas knows him. When UN shipments couldn’t land and supplies were short, he was the man to see.” The room went silent. David’s hands were tied behind his back, cutting off his circulation. To the side of him, the man with the pistol thrust it hard against David’s temple. At the same time, a crash echoed through the room. David jerked, thinking he had been shot. Even the guard at the door jumped as the colonel slammed his fist on the table. “Mr. Warren,” the colonel said through clenched teeth. “We have tried to be good and fair. Remember when you hurt yourself in your cell? Those cracked ribs? You were seen by our best doctor as soon as we heard about that unfortunate accident.” David searched his mind. The only unfortunate accident was being kicked in the chest by the colonel. “I know things here have not always been pleasant but at least you have had the pleasure of good company. I am glad that you and Dobrila have become such good friends. How sweet of you to offer to help her immigrate to country after all this is over.” David became more alert. His face betrayed him as he tried to hide his surprise. “It was a touching offer indeed. Have you ever wondered what your friend looks like? You have heard her voice through the drain, have you imagined a face to go with that voice? She used to be a very beautiful woman, David. Friendly, too, if you know what I mean,” he said, winking as he slapped David on the back.

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David felt helpless rage building. He knew Dobrila had been beaten. “Let’s bring her in, shall we, Mr. Warren? The two of you can become better acquainted.” “Leave her out of this!” “I did not bring her into it, Mr. Warren. She is your friend, not mine.” The colonel signaled the guard at the door. Two men, halfdragging, half-holding a woman with a filthy gunnysack over her head entered. David’s stomach tightened in anger. Her legs were bent at an odd angle as if they had been broken and never set. “Oh, Dobrila,” the colonel said in a sweet voice. She didn’t respond. The guards on either side of her released their grip and she tumbled forward. David looked at her frail body, thinking it wouldn’t take much to pick her up and break her in two. The colonel grabbed hold of her by the arm, and shoved her toward David. “Dobrila, I have someone I would like you to meet. This is Mr. Warren. Say hello.” A mumbled response could almost be heard. “Don’t be rude Dobrila, say hello to this nice man,” the colonel said as he punched her in the stomach. Another inaudible word came through the sack. However, the colonel was happy with it, enjoying the game. “Now, Mr. Warren, say hello to Dobrila.” David didn’t know what the colonel would do if the order wasn’t obeyed, but he was almost positive it would cause physical pain to her. A horse whisper was all he could manage. “I’m so sorry, Dobrila.” Her limp body stiffened at his familiar voice. She couldn’t see him. Would she think he’d betrayed her? “Now that the proper introductions have been made,” the colonel said, “I have some exciting news. It seems David has very important friends. He has been granted an interview with the press.”

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David blinked, uncomprehending. “David, you have been very dishonest with us. You must understand how unacceptable your behavior is.” With a snap of his fingers, the guards moved in behind Dobrila. He screamed as he saw the butt of the guard’s rifle slam down on Dobrila’s hip. The woman grunted and fell to her knees. David struggled against the ropes which tied him down as well as the guard whose only job seemed to be to lean hard into his shoulder. “Mr. Warren, it was just an accident, calm down. Come on, Dobrila, my dear, let me help you up.” He yanked the sack, pulling her to a standing position. “Here, let’s get rid of this silly thing. I bet it’s hard to breathe in there.” He grabbed the sack and tore it from her head. Her face was black, blue, purple, and yellow with bruises in various stages of healing. She was missing teeth. Skin hung from her forehead where a cut should have been stitched. Dobrila was picked up by the colonel like a rag-doll and thrown in a chair directly in front of David. “Here, Dobrila, rest for a while,” said the colonel in his phony soft, caring voice. The woman clung to the chair. She was so close to David their knees touched. Her dull and lifeless eyes showed no emotion. The urge to hug her, clean her face and heal her wounds overwhelmed him. Frustration and fear filled him as he willed her to look at up. If he could just catch her eye, he could reassure her that everything would be okay. “Now, Mr. Warren,” Spider said, “let’s get a couple of things straight. We have to practice for you meeting with the reporter. Are you ready?” David said nothing. Arkan stepped into the light. “Let me introduce myself, Dobrila.” “Oh, I am so sorry, how rude of me,” the colonel said, looking straight at David. “Dobrila, this is Arkan.” The words were spoken as a threat directed at him. Rage filled his tense body. “Leave her alone!” “Mr. Warren, we haven’t done anything to her, we are just having a pleasant conversation” “If you touch her, I’ll kill you both.”

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Dobrila finally gazed at David, a silent plea to keep quiet. The colonel noticed it as well. “Dobrila has learned respect. I had hoped to teach you also, but it seems you learn through other methods.” David felt the weight of the pistol leave his temple. Before he had time to breathe a sigh of relief, the same gun was placed to Dobrila’s head. “Now, Mr. Warren. I think we are ready for our review of what we are going to talk to the reporter about.” “Look, please, tell me what you want and I’ll do it.” “That’s the spirit, Mr. Warren,” the colonel said. He nodded at the guard and the gun was removed form Dobrila’s head. David looked at Dobrila, the woman silent, her eyes focused on the table in front of her. The suffering he saw in her battered body hampered his capacity to reason. The image of her was breaking him, and he looked away. Better to suffer the worst loneliness, the worst anguish, than to have any further harm come to her. When he had composed himself, he turned toward Spider. “What is it you want?” Spider turned to Arkan and spoke to the guards in Serbian. The guards removed Dobrila from her chair and led her from the room. Arkan took the seat across the table from David. “David, you think you understand,” Arkan said as if speaking to a child “but you don’t. No one wanted this war, anyone who would say they did is crazy. War is harsh, but it is about our very survival, and while we have been winning the war on the ground here in our country, we are losing the war of words in the bigger world.” Arkan watched him with a worn expression that David had seen many times before. David realized Arkan believed what he was saying. He also knew Arkan could justify any horrid action in the name of Serbia, without shame. “Do your job as we tell you to do it and you will leave soon after the interview,” Arkan said. “Is that the only offer?” David asked. Arkan’s eyes darkened. “Are you mocking me?”

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“No. I want Dobrila to be released with me.” “You are risking much, my friend, about something that is not your concern.” “I’m risking that you don’t want to kill me. That wouldn’t help you whatsoever. People must know I’m here by now.” David braced himself for a retaliatory blow from a hand or boot, but he had to press his point. What use was this woman to them? He had to try. If he could get them to agree to release Dobrila to him, he would have won a small victory for both of them. “Accidents happen,” Arkan said. David didn’t doubt it, but he had nothing to lose. Arkan’s pride and self-confidence could be used to his own advantage. “All I can offer you is my co-operation,” David said. “The truth of the matter is that I have nothing else to offer, but if I know Dobrila will be released, with me, I will say anything you want me to say.” “What do you get out of this?” Arkan asked. A perplexing question. David didn’t know how to reply. Within himself the answer was easy, but to express it to Arkan was impossible.

Sandcastle Memories

CHAPTER 18 At almost midnight, Anna was still too excited to sleep. In the morning, she would finally see David. Earlier in the evening, she had met the woman who Ivica had sent. The woman’s English was poor, and Anna had found it difficult to understand. Marko had worked out the details in Serbian while she watched their animate conversation. At one point she had left and had phoned the Trib. Disappointed that she didn’t catch Rudy, she left a message with a number of leads for him to follow up. When she got back to her room, the woman was gone. Marko refused to answer her question as to how Ivica had arranged a meeting with David. She rolled over and looked at the clock. 12:15, she groaned. Was it the excitement of seeing David or the anxiety of the meeting that kept her awake? Perhaps Marko could help. Wandering down the hall was always dangerous, but night brought different concerns. There were no lights in the hallways and a flashlight was an open invitation to a sniper. Anna felt her way along the hall toward Marko’s room, three doors down, on the right. If a sniper didn’t get her, a nervous hotel guest would. After rattling several doors, she found the right one. A sleepy voice answered on the third knock. “Who is it?” “It’s me, Anna.” Marko opened the door, bare-chested and dressed in sweat pants. Bleared eyed, he shook his head, trying to wake up from his deep sleep as he pulled her in.

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“What’s the matter?” he asked, alarmed. “I can’t sleep.” Marko walked to the bed and sat down, putting his head in his hands. “You can’t sleep?” “Been wide awake for the last two hours.” “Oh, so you thought you would come and disturb my rest?” His voice was gruff, but Anna could see by the way his teeth shined in the dark that he was smiling. “I’m sorry. It was silly of me to wake you up.” Why had she come and awakened him? What was she thinking? “It’s okay,” he said, yawning. “Come and sit down. Tell me what’s the matter.” Anna sat on the chair by the table and faced Marko. “I’m nervous about tomorrow,” she said. “If I say something wrong, it may make matters worse. How will he act when we meet? Who knows how his hostage takers will react if they find out?” “Slow down. You talk a million miles a minute when you are nervous. Tell me from the beginning, what’s wrong?” “Marko, I’m scared. One mistake and they could take it out on David. They could kill him. Or me.” “No wonder you can’t sleep. You have been thinking. Haven’t I ever told you thinking is a dangerous habit?” “What am I gonna do?” she asked. “You are a professional. You have been in this situation before.” “The stakes are higher this time. I’m too close to the one who might get hurt if I blow it.” Marko sat up on the bed and stared at her. “You are a journalist, so act like one. You have a job to do, do it. Put your personal feelings aside. The minute you walk out of this hotel tomorrow morning, the most important thing you have to do is do your job. Remember this, if they think you are playing games with them, if they suspect a connection of any sort between you and David, he could be punished.” “Thanks. You’re making me feel so much better.”

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“You must understand the gravity of this situation.” Marko’s face was bleak. She looked at him, and sighed. “Yes, I do. Why do you think I’m worried?” “What worries you the most, Anna?” “Failure. That I do more harm than good. That after getting this far, David can’t come home with me.” “Let me tell you one thing. David is smart. If that wasn’t true, he’d be dead already. He has good friends and good contacts. I’m going to tell you right now, if he does recognize you, he will not let on. Don’t take it personally. The danger for both of you is too great. Do you understand me?” She nodded. “Now, the second thing. You are a journalist on assignment for the Tribune. They are paying you a lot of money for an exclusive on this hostage situation. Go there tomorrow morning with that in mind. He is not David, not a friend, just a story. And you are just a journalist. Go in there and do your job, nothing more.” Anna looked grim. “Do your job well, then later when you and David are both safe at home, there will be time for your friendship once more. Friends who hug, smile and laugh with each other, if that is what you want.” “Of course, I want that!” “Why?” “He’s important to me.” “What has made him so important?” Anna paused. Her thoughts drifted. “It built over time, this feeling of importance he has in my life. Do you know the phrase for better or worse?” “Yes.” “We shared for better or worse, David and I. An event that sticks out in my mind is a night I called him at 3:00 a.m. to rescue my brother. Bill was always getting into trouble. There were fights, police, drugs and alcohol that whirled around him. Then came the night my parents locked him out of the house. Dad had told

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Bill if he came home drunk again he’d be locked out. Bill was outside the house screaming, pounding on the doors and windows. I loved my brother but in that moment I was scared that something bad was about to happen. My dad was ready to phone the police. I phoned David, who came and took Bill away. My brother was stubborn, even more so when he’d been drinking. But David has a way with people. I could call him when things got unbearable, even at 3:00 a.m. He cared enough to come.” “So that is it. Caring?” “That’s the bottom line, Marko. How did you get so smart?” “Has nothing to do with smarts. Survival is knowing what to do and why. If there is no concentration you could end up dead. Don’t get distracted. Get David out. Why? Because you care about him. Everything leads to that end.” Anna yawned. “Am I that boring?” he asked. “Nope,” she said, stifling another yawn. “It’s just that your voice is so soothing, it makes me relax.” “Come on, my friend.” Pulling her from the chair, he led her to the bed. “Lie down and go to sleep. Tomorrow will be a busy day for all of us.” Marko put the blanket on top of her, and crawled in on the other side as Anna drifted to sleep. Anna could hear a shower. Who was having a shower in her room? Then she remembered the evening before. She smiled, embarrassed with herself, but pleased with the best night’s sleep she had had in a long time. She rolled over to see Tom sitting in a chair watching her with a big grin. Now, she really felt embarrassed. “What are you grinning at?” she asked. “My praise of older women,” he replied. “Nothing happened!” “I know, but you’re so busy you don’t see that Marko is developing feelings for you. I know your attention, and I know how it feels to be in your company.”

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“What?” she asked. “Another time. There’s much to do. I suggest you get back to your room, shower, and get ready.” Anna gathered herself up, hoping to leave before Marko was done with his shower. She felt uncomfortable facing both he and Tom and their silly grins. Tom was right. There was a lot to be done and she didn’t have time for anything else now. “We will be at your door in about thirty minutes,” Tom said. She flew out the door, half an hour before she had to be in the Land Rover, headed to the Serbian front. When she reached her room and tried to turn on the shower, she realized she didn’t have to rush. No water. Minutes before she had heard Marko taking a shower, now the water was cut off. She was on the edge of a why me moment but her excitement proved too great. At least now she had time for a bite to eat. As she hurried to pull on a shirt and pants, she munched down some stale crackers from an earlier stash. Now, she was ready with nothing to do. Despite the absence of a shower, she wasn’t as deprived as most people. She couldn’t imagine the degree of hardship that went on in the city...hardly any food, no heat, sporadic light, glass all over the place, no mail, no telephones, constant danger. Yet, people continued with their lives, managing to survive. Somehow. A knock at the door saved her from any more thoughts of misery. She welcomed Tom and Marko. “Bet you didn’t get a shower,” Marko grinned. “I didn’t get the soap out of my hair before the water stopped.” Tom laughed. “You still look gorgeous, Marko.” “When I get back to Chicago,” Anna said, “I’m going to spend days taking showers, eating ice cream, and watching videos.” “Can I come with you?” Marko asked. “Of course.” Tom glanced at Anna and frowned. Anna shrugged it off with a defiant look at Tom that seemed to say, Oh! Grow up. “Are we ready? Do we have the plan down?” she asked.

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“You bet. We will get you there. You just have to think about your duties,” Marko said. Anna followed the two men out the door, concentrating on what she would say to the Serb authorities, and what she would ask. All of a sudden, the realization that it was going to happen, that she was indeed going to see David made her knees feel rubbery. She pushed aside the surge of anxiety, and concentrated on being a professional journalist.

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okay. Maybe I will see you again. Maybe not. Depends on how well you do with the reporter. You must decide.” Snapping the file shut and flipping his pen into a jacket pocket, he stood up and moved toward the door. “In any case, Mr. Warren, good luck.” The colonel walked briskly from the room.

CHAPTER 19 As the guard pushed him down the hallway, David felt empty. The light was dim, yet he recognized the route to the interrogation room. A group of uniformed men with AK 47s stood blocking their path. The guard pushed ahead. David hesitated and was shoved with such force he fell. Someone laughed and called out in English, “Perhaps he would be more comfortable crawling than walking.” Standing, he felt no emotion. No hatred. No fear. The threat of violence against Dobrila and the small, veiled promise of release kept him going. He would be faithful to his agreement with Arkan and Spider. His comments had been established and rehearsed until he could repeat them word for word, without deviation. The guard stopped and reached forward, opening the door to the interrogation room. The room was silent. Through the milky light, David could see Spider sitting at a table, a cold, intense look about him while studying a file. Uneasiness began to rise once more. Any vitality he had left was slowing draining away. “Don’t look so frightened, Mr. Warren. One day, perhaps you will learn what it is we are struggling for. In a few minutes, you will be meeting with the reporter. Stay with the story and comments we have talked about. Understand?” Nodding his affirmation, he kept his thoughts to himself. The only thing that could help the Serbian cause was a serious desire for peace. A single meeting wouldn’t wipe out the evidence of ethnic cleansing and genocide that had occurred. There was something else that they wanted to gain from the media. “You are quiet today,” the colonel commented. “Well, that is

Sitting motionless, his body rigid as stone, his thoughts were stuck on what the colonel had said about not seeing him again. What did it mean? Here in the quiet room, without the distraction of the colonel, apprehension began to creep in. His thoughts jumped from one place to another as he tried to force his attention to the task of meeting with the reporter. The door opened. The doctor entered. “Hello.” “Is this good cop-bad cop?” David asked in a monotone voice. “Good cop, bad cop? Ah, yes, like in the movies. Just following orders, David. No doubt they knew you would be more comfortable with me than anyone else. When the reporter arrives, it will be my job to bring her in.” “Her?” “They tell me it is a woman. Other than that, you know as much as I do. You remember the day we met?” “We will have a beer together?” “Yes. I meant it. A day will come when we will meet under better circumstances.” David jumped as a pounding came from the door. When the doctor opened it, a number of uniformed men stood by the entrance. “Be back shortly,” the doctor said, patting David’s back. Alone once more. The fear of dying was gone, yet anxiety rose and fell in him like waves. Who was he? What was this place? Was he on the verge of losing his mind? He needed to get a grip, to focus on something and give it his full attention. For the last two days, without Dobrila, there had been no expression for relief. The door opened to readmit the doctor, this time with a

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woman. The doctor spoke, but the words had no meaning for David, although apparently they meant something to the woman. “This is Anna McBride from the Chicago Tribune.” Glancing at the woman, he tried to comprehend. He felt as if he were trapped inside a dark box. The air was thin and hard to breathe. He tried to understand what was going on around him. “David are you okay?” the doctor asked. Smiling mechanically, he nodded. Something very odd was going on. His mind desperately tried to sort out something familiar. “All right, I am going to leave now. If you need anything, just knock at the door.” “We will be fine, thank you,” Anna said. The realization struck David with a violent jolt the moment he heard her voice. Wide-eyed in unbelief, something deep inside opened up and rushed through him, causing dizziness. The fight for self-control was being lost as wave after wave of convulsions rose within him. “I am going to be sick,” David rasped. The doctor quickly grabbed a wastepaper basket and placed it in front of him. Leaning over he threw up in the metal bucket. They were watching him as tears of frustration and humiliation ran down his face. Anna shouldn’t be here. The urge to scream at her to get out of the room was strong. As the convulsions stopped, he was able to lift his head and wipe away the tears with the back of his hand. The doctor handed him a wet towel. David held it to his face, leaned his head to his knees, and stayed that way for a couple of minutes. “Are you going to be okay?” the doctor asked once more. “I’m fine,” David replied, looking at Anna. “I’m sorry Ms. McBride.” “It’s Anna.” Her voice was soft and gentle. “It’s okay, take your time. I’m not going anywhere.” A rush of memories passed through him. David pushed them back and composed himself as Anna sat down and placed a notebook on the table. “Maybe I should stay,” the doctor said. “No, it’s fine, I’ll call you if we need anything,” Anna said, her

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voice more confident then she felt. As the doctor left the room, she watched the color began to return to his pale face. With all her preparation, not much thought had been given to how David would react to her presence. The urge to reach out for him was overwhelming, and without thinking, she reached across the table. Although not fully aware of the situation, his caution remained as he pulled back and shook his head as discreetly as possible. Concentrate on being a reporter, she told herself. Don’t slip into the familiar role of friendship. Not here. Not now. David looked tense and stony-eyed. “What are you doing here?” he asked in a hoarse voice. Anna concealed a slight smile. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s not polite to start a conversation like that, Mr. Warren? You should say, hello, how are you? ” They had a language of their own. Lots of little phrases and code words that develop when people had spent so much time together. “Hello. How are you?” he asked. “What are you doing here?” “I’m a reporter for the Chicago Tribune,” she said her knee touching his under the table, rocking in a slow tempo. She watched him and knew that an awakening awareness was developing him. Touch has a memory, she thought. “I’m here to report why you’re being held here against your will.” “That’s simple,” David answered. “I’m suspected of being a criminal. “ “What do you mean, you’re suspected of being a criminal? I have interviewed others who have told me that your job is to coordinate the distribution of food and supplies to the civilians.” “That’s what the Serbian authorities think I use as my cover. They believe I’m either a spy or some sort of a criminal. If you look at it from their point of view, my activities have been suspicious.” Anna thought his response was odd. “I see. Let’s move on then.” She knew the Serbs in charge wanted her to pursue this topic and she wasn’t willing to give them that satisfaction. “How are you being treated here, Mr. Warren?”

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“Fine,” he said. “Your face looks rather bruised.” She had to be careful not to anger the faceless audience she knew was listening. “Yes,” he answered. “It happened before I was detained.” David’s face didn’t change expression, and she knew he was lying. There wouldn’t be any truthful answers until they could talk freely. She decided on another approach. “Is there anything you’d like me to tell the people who read my newspaper?” “Tell them I’ve been lucky and privileged to serve the community in Bosnia. The people who didn’t want this war are the true heroes. Many in Sarajevo have faced fear, anger, violence and oppression on a continual basis, yet remain committed to peace.” David’s expression softened. She had hit on a topic that he was passionate about. Through the years, he had taught Anna that if she had the strength, she could look beyond the present crisis. David looked tired, but appeared to have that strength now. “The situation seems so hopeless here. Do you think the UN has made any sort of difference?” Anna asked. “Yes, the UN, Red Cross and reporters, by being here, are witnesses and deterrents. Our thoughts, our words, our very actions help shape the future. Maybe we can focus on a better way.” “On a personal level, why are you here?” “How do I explain it? I believe there’s something good here, that it comes in many forms and is worth preserving. I do work that I believe in. Maybe the most important work I’ve ever done. Does that answer your question? Explaining is hard for me at times. Now and then, it seems hopeless. But you know, talking to you about it encourages me and reminds me why I came here.” This was vintage David. Just as she remembered him. She could see he was growing tired, and didn’t know how long he could continue. “At some point we chose.” David paused and seemed to lose his train of thought for a bit. “Some people have faith in the possi-

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bility of healing and rebuilding, but right now I’m starting to feel uncomfortable about this interview.” “Why?” “Because this interview shouldn’t be about me. There is so much suffering and pain here. I feel guilty taking up space on such trivial matters.” “This is an opportunity to shed a light on what is happening here. I’ve written many other stories. Your story is just another piece of the puzzle.” “Okay.” “Are you all right to continue? How are you feeling?” “I’m feeling better now than I have in weeks.” David gave a weak smile and his eyes met Anna’s in a flicker of familiarity. “David, have you been allowed any visits from the UN or the Red Cross?” As soon as Anna asked the question, she knew by David’s expression that she’d hit on a topic that wasn’t safe. “Those negotiations are under way. In war, it’s difficult sometimes for arrangements to be made. Right now, with the NATO air strikes going on, the authorities have more critical matters to attend to.” Anna wanted to steer away from any area that might prove difficult or dangerous to him. There were other matters on her agenda and she searched her notes, feeling that precious time was ticking away. The interview wasn’t going the way David and Spider had talked about. He found it very difficult to lie to her. Already, he had stepped outside the agreed boundaries on some answers. He decided he must go all the way, get some information of his own out, and get some things on record before it was too late. “Sorry, Anna, may I ask you some questions?” “Sure, Mr. Warren.” “Do people know I’m here? Are they working on my release?” “Yes. You have many friends. They know you’re here and they’re going to get you out.”

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“I want to tell you something very important to me. I need you to write about it,” he said in desperation. “What is it?” There was a violent knock at the door, and it flew opened. David caught a glance at Spider. “A woman in the cell next to mine. Name is Dobrila… a Serbian woman… two children… she is in very poor condition.” “The interview is over,” the colonel shouted in anger. “There are monsters under her bed. Do you understand that? It’s very important. Remember Dobrila.”

CHAPTER 20 Anna sat in a chair in Colonel Eric’s office. She tried to contain her rage at the abrupt ending of their interview. The military official sat in a swivel chair behind his desk, his face ashen with weariness, and the shadow of a beard on his cheeks. His voice was hoarse, like someone’s who had not slept for some time. “Miss McBride, David has been quite ill. Doctor Andric advised us to cut the interview short.” “I’m a practical woman who is after a story. There is something I want you to know. Before I left for this interview today I handed a picture of David to every major news agency represented here. I expect David’s picture will make the front page of many major newspapers and that he will be the lead story in most televised newscasts.” “And what do you expect to gain from this?” Colonel Eric asked. “I have the most advertised news exclusive interview. I want to finish this interview.” Anna was so close. If she left the warehouse today without some form of commitment, she could lose it all. “It’s impossible.” “Look, what is it that you want? A way to avoid further NATO airs strikes? Here is a gesture you can make that will send a message around the world. Here’s an opportunity. Now, what do I want? Release David to me. You have to get rid of him, anyway. Even your Russian friends say they aren’t going to tolerate anymore hostage taking. Consider the opportunity you have here.” The silence stretched between them as he thought about it. She had surprised him. The hook was baited. All she had to do was get

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him to bite. The colonel cleared his throat. “This whole incident with air strikes was a terrible crisis between the UN and the Bosnian Serb government, and we needed to send a strong signal to the UN.” “So, Mr. Warren was your message,” Anna replied, jotting a note on her pad. Eric’s face, seemed to indicate a concern or curiosity about what she was writing. “Not just that. We had various suspicions about him, whether he was passing information to NATO about targets. Who his criminal contacts may be?” “Okay, you had your suspicions. Not once was he allowed to see representatives of the International Committee of the Red Cross or the UN.” “Those negotiations were under way. In war, it is difficult for arrangements to be made. We had other critical matters to attend to.” Suspicions that David had been coached were confirmed. The script was almost word for word what David had said. She had to get back to the topic of David’s release without showing outward concerned about it. Anna looked straight into his dark cold eyes. She was tired of playing games. “Look, Colonel, the way I see it, you’ve two options. You can either release David to me, or, you can kill him, dump his body somewhere and have the whole world know by six tomorrow morning. The UN isn’t gonna like that. Russia isn’t gonna like that. And to tell you the truth, I wouldn’t like that, either. So, let’s make this thing happen.” “You have me all wrong, Ms. McBride. I don’t want to kill anyone. I hate to kill people. A messy job and a good way to make enemies. But, it is not possible to release David right now.” “Are you telling me you don’t have the authority?” “I am telling you that it is not going to be an easy thing. It is going to take time.” Anna stood up. “I’m sorry, Mr. Eric. I’ve wasted my time. I didn’t realize that you weren’t the man in charge here. May I

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please speak with whomever that might be?” She knew she was taking a risk. The colonel had the power to do anything he chose, including throwing her into a cell. She was betting that he was smarter than that. “Now, wait, perhaps in a few weeks we can have something arranged. At the moment, things are hectic and we just don not have time to arrange it properly.” “I understand,” Anna said, turning to leave. “Oh,” she hesitated, just remembering something. “We have a mutual friend, a Mr. Ivica Vakuf. He asked me to give you this.” She handed over a brown enveloped package. The colonel’s face turned pale. As he reached out to take the package, Anna noticed his hand shaking. She realized at that moment how much power Ivica had. “Thank you,” he said, taking it from her as if it were a bomb. “You’re welcome. I’ll be in touch.” It had been a gamble, but it was all she had. If it didn’t work, she was uncertain what her next move would be. Maybe it was time for her, Marko and Tom to storm the warehouse. Turning to walk out of the room, she composed her face and body into a confidence she lacked. Mumbling a desperate prayer that her gamble would work, she dreaded it wouldn’t. She reached the door and pulled it open, stepping out into the long hallway. To her dismay the colonel didn’t try to stop her exit. The only sound was the clicking of her hard-heeled shoes on the tile floor as she passed guards every hundred feet. Passing the interrogation room, her heart sank deep in her chest. Where was David? Which of the hallways, guarded by armed men, would lead to his cell? And what about the woman he’d spoken of, Dobrila? What was his connection with her? From out of nowhere, two men with rifles over their shoulders appeared before her, blocking her way. “Please come with us, Ms. McBride.” “Where are we going?” she asked, her heart pounding. Were they not going to allow her to leave? “Just follow and be quiet,” the tall soldier in a white T-shirt

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snapped. There wasn’t much choice as she fell in line between them, following through twisting, turning corridors. Steel doors slammed behind them as they led her deeper into the building. The stale air invaded her nostrils as they walked down a flight of stairs toward what she imagined was a dungeon where they would put her on a rack for sadistic torture. They entered the last of a series of steel doors. This one led to a room that looked like anything but a military office. The chamber was decorated in deep maroon colors, a dark mahogany desk in the center. Art pieces brought a touch of class that had been missing from the other areas of the building. “Please sit, Ms. McBride,” the guard said, pointing to a plush velvet couch in front of the desk. Anna sat, her mind too jumbled to think. She wondered about this new and different world. A door at the back of the room opened and in walked the colonel. “I am so glad you came back, Ms. McBride.” She remained silent, not sure of the game being played, now. “I have decided to grant your interview,” the man said. “I’ll provide the information you want. If it is printed in your paper, as I want it, David will be released into your custody. If not, he disappears.” “I want David first,” Anna said, careful to keep her voice calm and firm. She didn’t know what had changed the colonel’s mind, but she suspected it had something to do with Ivica’s package. “And,” she added, “there was a woman David had mentioned. I want her, too.” Guards shoved David back into his cell. Leaving, they slammed the bolt into place. He lay on the cot, his head full of contradictory images. When Spider stormed the room during the interview, David realized he’d not spoken quickly enough. “Anna, remember the name,” he’d mentioned as he was pushed out of the room by the guards. Dobrila. There are monsters under her bed. He had used the familiar code they used as children when

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something horrible had happened that they didn’t want to talk about. If they were lucky, she would remember and understand. Eyes closed, with visions of Anna still fresh, he focused on the image of her soft hazel eyes. What was she doing here? She was supposed to be in Chicago where it was safe. Frustration boiled within him. There she was, in front of him and he hadn’t even been able to touch her. She had been right within arms’ reach, and he’d lost her. The interview had revealed a whole new Anna, her confidence and the authority she displayed in the interview surprised him. Now, remembering an event from long ago, he thought of the canoe trip they had taken without telling their parents. Caught in a storm far from home, they had taken shelter in a cave. “So David, are we gonna mope around here because of a little rain or are we gonna make something good out of this? Ya know what your grandfather said: If you are going to get into trouble, get into trouble with someone you like.” “Yea, he also said let people know where you’re going.” “Lie down, David close your eyes and listen to the rain.” The sound of running water lulled him to sleep. When he awakened later, Anna was curled up beside him, fast asleep. She looked like an angel. Not wanting to wake her, he rose gently. Water was still coming down, but David ventured out. The rain had stopped; it was just the wash from the mountains and the drops from the trees. David went to the clearing. The river was calm once more. Clear northwest skies meant that they could venture back out on the water. If I get out of this one, David thought, never again. The thought of Dobrila broke through his daydream. She needed to see the doctor. All the conflicting feelings over seeing Anna, disappeared from his mind. Almost leaping from his cot, he paced the room. There was no place for him to go. No way for him to find out if she was safe or not. He trembled as wild energy surged through him. His head began to pound. Without warning, the cell door sprung open. “What do you want now?” he asked. The same guard who had escorted him to his cell after the

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interview, entered again. “You are a popular man Mr. Warren. Come with me. You have another meeting.” His heart dropped into his stomach. He feared he knew what the meeting was about. They were going to beat Dobrila, maybe even kill her; he was to watch as punishment. “Tell them I’m busy,” he shouted. If he failed to cooperate, maybe they’d take it out on him rather than Dobrila. “Tell them yourself!” the guard snarled back as he shoved David through the door. David was, again, led down a hallway, contemplating various actions. Protecting Dobrila would be his sole purpose. His heart raced as he formulated a plan. He would enter the room, subdued. Act as if he were going to accept whatever happened. Then, when their attention turned to Dobrila, he’d attack. Maybe, with surprise on his side, he might catch them off guard. Building himself up, he’d make a last stand. He’d caused enough damage to Dobrila. By the time they arrived at the lower level of the warehouse, he was ready to fly at the first person who looked as if they’d touch Dobrila. The guard knocked at a door at the end of the hall. “Come in,” said a cheery voice David recognized as the one Spider used when he was trying to sound more human than he was. David walked through the door, the blood pulsing fast through his veins, ready to fight to protect Dobrila. Instead, he was shocked to see Spider sitting at a huge desk wearing a smile. Anna sat across from him as if it were a routine business meeting. “Hello, David. Come in,” the colonel said, reaching out to shake his hand. “I trust you remember Ms. McBride?”

CHAPTER 21 “Looks like we have another chance, Mr. Warren.” Anna said. David nodded. The colonel grinned. Anna tried to form a plan, but she was at a loss on how to proceed. Digging into her bag, she pulled out a notebook and pocket tape recorder and placed them on the desk. “No tape recordings,” the colonel said. “Look, are you going to let me do my job, or what?” Anna’s words were harsh. Her comment seemed to take the colonel back a bit. Anna knew he was unaccustomed to someone challenging him. This was a man who was accustomed to giving the orders, not following them from others. “We may get into some proceedings,” the colonel said, firmly, “that would be to all our benefits if there were no recording.” “Fine.” Anna took the tape recorder, and threw it into her bag. She glanced at David and saw a look of admiration on his face. That brief look reminded her, again, of what she had to accomplish. She despised the colonel who struck her as arrogant and stupid. Best to stay calm and not get angry. How awful to be this close and blow everything. Turning to David, Anna worried about what he’d been through. “How are you feeling now?” “I’m fine.” David kept his voice neutral. “Good. I’m going to tell you how it’ll work,” Anna said, ignoring Spider. “I’m going to ask you a question. I expect you will be able to respond fully, without interruption. Then, if Colonel Eric would like to respond, he may at that time. After the interview,

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I expect to take you out of here.” David looked stunned, but Anna didn’t want to be distracted by his reaction. She focused her attention on the Serbian. He had only hinted at releasing David. “What about Dobrila?” David rasped. “What?” Anna glared at him. Her eyes pleaded that he wouldn’t pursue concerns of Dobrila. The colonel could only be pushed so far. David stood up. “I’m not leaving without Dobrila.” “Sit down, Mr. Warren. No one is going anywhere.” The colonel’s hand dropped to his sidearm. Waves of panic washed over Anna. The familiar look on David’s face told her he wouldn’t back down. The situation was dangerous. Anna turned to David her words ringing with authority. “Sit down. Let me do my job.” The colonel’s face looked haggard, but Anna felt the lowering of tension. Emotional tension seethed in David as he took his seat once more. His eyes had a hint of tears. David’s look, so familiar; she had to maneuver carefully around his defiance. The colonel was right where she wanted him. David just had to trust her. “Colonel, I have to tell you that I see no just reason for Mr. Warren’s detention. You made reference to vague suspicions. What I see as the motive in his detention is the NATO air strikes. Quite frankly, I look around this room and I see your personal sanctuary, and I wonder if you realize what’s going on beyond this fortress. I’m willing to write your story in exchange for Dobrila. I will write word for word what you tell me, with a disclaimer that the opinion is not mine, not the newspaper’s, but strictly yours. I will take Dobrila with me when I leave this building today. As soon as the story has been published, I’ll be back for David.” A sigh escaped David’s lips as his body relaxed. Don’t get too comfortable, she thought. We’re still in for a long haul. “Perhaps, we can work it out, Ms. McBride,” he said. “Wait. One more thing. David is not to be hurt. I want him treated as you would a guest in your own home. If you or one of

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your men so much as look at him wrong, I will hold you personally responsible. I’ll write a story that will devastate your future in this country or anywhere else on the planet.” “Ms. McBride,” the colonel said, grinning. “Don’t fantasize about your own power. Dobrila is yours because she is nothing to me. Just one less mouth to feed. When you print the truth about the Serbian people, I will give you David. This furthers the cause of my people, nothing more. When it comes to my family and country, I could easily flick you all away like flies and not lose any sleep over it. Now, Ms. McBride, as you would say, let us make this happen.” “Fine. It’s done then,” she said. “Good,” said the colonel. “Now, Mr. Warren, it is time for you to go back to your room for the night. You will be hearing from me as soon as Ms. McBride upholds her end of the bargain.” Immediately, two guards were beside David. Anna didn’t see where they had come from and, again, realized the danger they posed. There is no time to think of the danger, now, she told herself. Besides, many people knew where she was, and they would fight to get her back if anything happened. “See you later, David,” she said, mustering exuberance in her voice. “Looking forward to it, Ms. McBride,” he responded with a slight smile. Alone, once more with a man who had the power to make her disappear without a trace, her optimism gave way to a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Wishing she could click on the tape recorder without his knowledge, but aware it was too dangerous to attempt, she again brought paper and pen to the desk. “Are you ready to begin?” she asked. “You work too hard, Ms. McBride. Perhaps you could come back tomorrow for the interview.” “No, thank you. I prefer to get this over with as soon as possible.” “Well, then, at least have a drink with me.”

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“No, thanks. Trusting anything that he might offer could be her biggest mistake. “Suit yourself. Please, do not mind if I have one.” “Go ahead.” She detested the man sitting across the desk from her. He made her blood boil with rage over his treatment of people. The words Marko had spoken the night before rang in her ears. “Go in there and do your job.” It’s the job, she said to herself. Thinking about the disclaimer, she would have to add that the interview did not reflect the ideas or editorial policy of the Chicago Tribune. “Shall we begin?” The colonel’s voice broke into her thoughts. Anna took a deep breath. “Of course. How would you like to proceed?” “You will write about what we are struggling for. Tell your readers the truth about the events which triggered this act of war against my people.” Anna stared at him. Whose truth? she wanted to ask. “Are you going to write this down?” “Of course,” she said, picking up her pen. “Good. Tell them that we do not want to fight. We are a peaceful people who are only trying to save the future of our country.” “How can you say that?” Anna asked. “You’ve attacked innocent people. Made prisoners of citizens who have done nothing wrong. Separated families and disrupted lives!” “You say with innocence. What do you truly know about our struggle for survival? Not much, I suspect, and this is unfortunate. I don’t deny that some innocent people have been harmed on both sides but it is unavoidable in war. Let me explain some facts.” “Go ahead,” she said, vowing to allow him to talk as much as he wished, only commenting only for clarification. “The event which triggered the Yugoslav Civil War was the illegal secession of the republics of Slovenia, Croatia and Bosnia from the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia - - much as in 1861, in the United States, when the Southern states tried to break away from the Union. A government must keep its people together to

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be successful.” Anna didn’t think it was the same thing at all, but she kept quiet and continued to write. “International recognition was given to the three states, without regard for the three million Serbs living here. We had to protect our right for self determination and protect our political and cultural rights as a national group.” The colonel’s voice droned on for an hour about the various infractions and wrong doings of the other side. Anna held her tongue and reminded herself at least a hundred times that lives depended on it. She was free to write the other side afterward. Finally, when Anna thought she couldn’t stand to hear anymore, he stood. “Thank you, Ms. McBride.” The colonel walked toward the door. “We will be in touch.” Anna was confused. “Wait.” Opening the door, he was about to step out of the room. “What about our agreement. What about Dobrila?” “She will be brought to you. Go home and write your article.” “Wait a minute. I did my part by listening to your speech. The article will be written. I’m not leaving without Dobrila.” “The agreement is that you write the article, Ms. McBride. You have not yet done that.” Defeated, she didn’t want to leave empty handed. Tired and discouraged at the way the day had gone, nothing had occurred as she’d planned. “You may use my office to write your article, Ms. McBride. Sit at my desk. Help yourself to paper and pens. I will have a laptop brought in if you like.” Anna was shocked. This wasn’t what she’d expected. “Don’t look so discouraged. You’re not being held against your will. You are free to go back to the hotel and write if you like. Contact me when you are done and I will send someone to get it. When your story meets my expectations, I will send Dobrila. There is an intercom on the desk. Please use it when you decide. Now, if you will excuse me, I have had a long day.”

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The door closed and Anna was left alone in the office, exhausted. Anger and frustration boiled inside her. Why couldn’t she just storm after the colonel and confront him? Tell him he was being unfair? Shout at him that he could shove this article until Dobrila was brought to her. Common sense, however, kept her from doing any of those things. Tired, she slumped forward. Visions of another place and time crowded her mind. Anna had completed the staircase and begun working on the arch of the sandcastle. David finished two of the four towers. At the rate they were going, they would be done, soon. “David, let’s take a break. It’s getting hot.” “Okay, I’m just going to spray the towers a bit.” “I’m gonna head over to the washrooms first. Let’s meet by the shade over there.” Anna pointed to a spot nearby where they could keep an eye on their castle, then walked across the crowded sand. No matter which way she went, the beach was full of brightly dressed sunbathers. All around was the hubbub of families and competitors. Every few yards, it seemed, vendors sold food, souvenirs or T-shirts. Hurrying around people dodging the crowd, she made her way across the sand. As she wound her way back to their spot on the beach, she found David in animated discussion with one of the officials. She glanced at the sandcastle and noticed one of the towers and the arch was down. Waving his arms as he spoke, she saw the frustration on his face. “David, what happened?” Still glaring at the official, he answered, “Someone was throwing a Frisbee, which is supposed to be banned for the day, and it took out our tower and arch. I asked for more time but they won’t give us any.” Anna inhaled deeply and pushed back the discouragement that was building up in her. She watched as the official solemnly left them to their own problem. “Well, we’ll just have to fix it.” “Not enough time.” “Well then, what do we do?” The disappointment on her face softened David’s heart. “We

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could fix the tower and maybe add two spires which would be easier to shape and sculpt instead of beginning a new arch.” “What are we waiting for?” “Without the arch, we’re going to lose points.” “So what? It happened, we’ll have to do the best we can. Let’s get started.” They went back to work, repairing and shaping the spires. Anna was frustrated, but frustration wouldn’t help them rebuild their castle, so she tried not to show it. All her efforts went into finishing before time was called. Their work had been good, maybe their best sandcastle ever, before it was damaged. Now it was coming up short. The horn was sounded. Time was up. They stood. It was done, minus the arch, but they still had finished it in time. “Come on, let’s get out of here,” David said. They hadn’t even come back to hear the judges’ decision. Anna, back in the present, looked around the room. Things hadn’t turned out as she had expected, but she wasn’t defeated yet. Starting to organize her notes, she pushed the button on the intercom. A man’s voice answered. “I need a laptop,” she said, her voice brisk from the deep-burning anger.

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CHAPTER 22 Anna felt a personal triumph as the colonel read her article. His head nodded in agreement as he reviewed it. In her anger, she had banged out about fifteen hundred words that reflected his opinion. The theme scripted from the colonel’s lecture outlined the Bosnian Serbs need to retaliate for NATO air strikes. A carefully written prelude assured readers the story reflected one man’s views of the war, not her own. The article was biased and self-serving, but if the West was to understand what motivated the Bosnian Serbs, here it was in full view. The thing she worried about was whether the Trib would print it. Her thoughts turned to Tom and Marko, who must be worried sick about the length of time that had passed without hearing any word. “Very good, Ms. McBride. Very good, indeed.” “Thank you,” she said, dryly. “We never wanted this,” the colonel said, sighing. “This war was thrust upon us. Before it all started, I was a schoolteacher teaching students from every background. This was never in my plans. You see what has become of us?” Anna made a mental note to add that to the story. Perhaps there had been a better man within him once, but it didn’t excuse the abuses, the murder and the mayhem. People had to make choices, and his choice had been to join the madness rather than resist it. “Now, can I have Dobrila?” she asked. She wanted to get out before nightfall and before any other conditions were placed on the release of either her or David. “The arrangements are under way,” the colonel said, with a

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careless wave of his hand. Another display of indifference to Anna. The thoughtful glimpse she had had of man was gone. This made her even more anxious to get out, but she needed more reassurance about David. “When I fax this to the Tribune and receive confirmation, I’ll return for David,” she said. The colonel spoke some brusque words in Serbian over the intercom, then turned back to Anna. “The newspaper will serve as confirmation,” he said. “A faxed copy of the paper.” As she received his silent nod of approval, a knock at the door interrupted any further discussion. The colonel barked an invitation to enter. Anna stared as a small, broken woman was half-dragged into the room. The minute Anna saw her, she knew why David had taken an interest. There was a bewildered, hopeless look about Dobrila. Just the type he would want to rescue. Dobrila’s long black hair was dirty and tangled, her clothes torn and stained with dried blood. Anna gently lifted her chin to stare into her black eyes, trying to make some contact. The eyes staring back were empty of emotion. The journalist in her wondered what this battered victim’s story was. How had she ended up here? What devastating events had lead to this meeting? Anna smiled at her, but got no response. Dobrila stared passed her toward the colonel. “So nice to see you, again, Dobrila,” the colonel said. The apprehension in Dobrila’s eyes confirmed Anna’s suspicion that the man couldn’t be trusted. The colonel spoke to Dobrila in Serbian. The woman either didn’t understand or refused to listen. Her expression didn’t change. Without provocation, he reached out and slapped her hard across the face. She didn’t even flinch, as he turned away in angry disgust. “Thank you for your story, Ms. McBride. I appreciate your efforts to get the truth to the people. Now, for my end of the

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bargain, you may take this woman away with you. As you can see, she is of no use to me anyway.” Anna was exhausted, her emotions drained. The day hadn’t gone well. She had planned on taking David home, not this rag doll of a woman. She stopped herself, remembering this was David’s friend. “Come on, Dobrila,” she said, pushing passed the colonel, giving him a look of contempt. “We’re going home.” Anna and a guard had to help the woman hobble out of the room, and down the hallways. Anxiety rose and fell at each doorway, each corner, and every possible danger she passed. Dobrila’s physical condition slowed her down. The farther they went, the more Anna’s fear that the colonel would call them back heightened. Passing through groups of laughing soldiers slowed them down even more. Finally, a Serbian guard, impatient at their snail’s pace, threw Dobrila up over his shoulders and marched toward the front gate. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she gasped out in pain. God, what had they done to her? Anna thought. “Can someone tell me what the bloody hell is going on?” Tom’s voice, loud and angry from worry, was the first thing Anna heard. As soon as Tom saw her, his face changed from anger to relief. Spurred on by the sight of a familiar face, Anna pulled on the guard’s sleeve, urging him on. The ordeal was taking its toll on Anna. “Open the damn gate,” she yelled. The gate swung open and Tom ran through. Behind him, she saw Marko standing by the Land Rover. “Marko, come take Dobrila,” Anna said. As he approached, Anna warned him, “Careful, she’s hurt!” Marko looked puzzled for a moment, approached the guard, and took the woman. “Put her in the Rover. Hurry! Come on, let’s go before they change their minds!” Tom and Marko reacted to her outburst of commands and climbed into the Land Rover, Marko in the back seat with Dobrila, and Tom in the driver’s seat as Anna quickly crawled into the

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passenger seat beside him. “Anna, what happened?” Tom asked, starting the engine. “Drive, just drive,” she said, then burst into tears. She was leaving without David. Left behind, David tried to relax in his cell. There was nothing more the Serbs could gain from his further imprisonment, but he still didn’t trust Spider. The Bosnian Serbs wanted to make their point about NATO air strikes. A sense of pride filled him about the way Anna had maneuvered to control a complicated and dangerous situation. He had heard from the guards that Dobrila and Anna had left the building. Perhaps he was becoming human again. Feelings he had hidden for a long time surfaced as he remembered how he had felt when he visited Anna in California, years before. David’s visit to Los Angeles to see Anna had been wonderful. The last day of his vacation, he was anxious about returning to the UN in New York. All he wanted was a fast car, loud music and Anna by his side. With the radio blasting, he drove to Anna’s apartment. She was on the front steps reading a book. “Hop in. Let’s go for a ride.” She walked to the rented Jag and leaned into his window, smiling. “Where are we going?” “Don’t know. Just get in.” She ran to the other side of the car as he popped the lock open. They drove, listening to the songs they had grown up with: Springsteen, Zeppelin, the Stones, and Patti Smith. Taking the road Southwest, they headed out of the city. David didn’t care where he was going, as long they were together. Without any plan, he was content to drive through the night. “Right or left?” he asked. “Depends on where we’re going,” she said, giggling. “Right or left? Choice is yours. You have ultimate control in this decision.” “Okay, left.” He turned and drove on, destination unknown.

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“We’re going to follow the sun,” he announced. Soon they were heading down a two-lane road with little traffic. David’s foot tapped to the beat of the radio’s drums as Anna sang along. The road started to wind and climb. They were on their way up a mountain. Strange, he thought, this mountain popped up from out of nowhere. At the top, he parked the car at a scenic turnout. The setting sun poured red liquid flame over the western sky. The mountain air was suddenly fragrant, releasing the energy of the passing day. “Here we are,” he announced. “Where are we? “ she asked, looking around. “Here. This is where we are. Let’s walk.” He jumped out of the car, heading toward the edge of the lookout. “David, wait for me,” Anna called, making her way over to join him. They stood at a white fence overlooking a 300-foot drop. David put his hands on the weathered wood rail and leaned over. Looking down, all he could see was brown and green: sagebrush peeking out of rock grass in waves beneath the wind and pine trees reaching high into the sky. “You’d better stay away from the edge, David. You know you can’t handle heights.” “I can handle anything. Nothing scares me. I’m invincible,” he said laughing, climbing over the fence onto the rocks below. “Hey, I’m supposed to be the one climbing out there to scare you, not the other way around!” “Come on,” he said, reaching his hand back to her. She climbed over the fence and stood next to him on the cliff. “Look over there,” he said, pointing down. “What?” “Down there. To the left.” Grabbing her head, he turned it to where he had been pointing. About a hundred feet down was a crevice in the rocks. Within it grew a fat, green cactus surrounded by brilliant yellow flowers. “It’s beautiful!” Anna said in a quick breath. “So are you.” Putting his arms around her, he held her close. The memory helped him withstand the present situation. The

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hot, muggy air of the cell was a long way from a cactus flower in California. There was no mountain today, but Anna was never far away. Lightness filled his heart. Yesterday, she had been real. Not a memory. Close enough for him to touch. Just thinking of her, thinking of taking her hand and running away, made him smile. He was going to see Anna and this time it wasn’t wishful thinking that once more, he would hold her in his arms. But just as he was letting himself feel good, he began to wonder about the person who had occupied this cell before him? A man? A woman? Did they ever return to their family? Or, were their bones drying out in the sun beyond the walls of this confine? What made him so special that he wouldn’t end up with the same fate? A voice in his head tried to discourage these insane thoughts. He would have no more of them, he told himself as he laid on the bed looking at the floor. Another wave of satisfaction hit him as he remembered Dobrila. She was safe, now. He hadn’t spoken to her since the day Spider told him about the interview, using Dobrila as a threat to get him to say what he wanted. “Anna please, come back for me.” The whispered words gave him comfort. Anna was strong and would have many friends who could take care of Dobrila. She had proven that yesterday just by getting to see him. Spider had said David would be released after Anna’s story was published in the paper; one way or another, she would come through. Soon, he would be out of this prison. He had to believe that. Tossing over on the bed, he put his bare feet on the filthy floor. If he was going to see Anna again, he had better be ready. Heading to the bucket of water at the corner of the room, he washed the sweat of the night off his face.

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CHAPTER 23 “Rudy, do you understand?” Anna asked. She paced around the CTV hotel suite while talking to Chicago on the phone. “No screwing around with this article.” “Yes, yes, chill!” Rudy replied, testiness edging his voice. “I’ll have a mock up ready for you in an hour.” “I’m sorry. This is top priority. I can get this man out with your help. Is Paul around?” “Sorry, haven’t seen him.” “As soon as you can track him down, show him the article. Tell him it has to be published. I’m counting on you both to get this thing done.” Anna realized Tom and Marko were watching her, amused at her hyperactive behavior. Everyone and everything annoyed her right now. “It’s important, make it happen!” She snapped a bit harsher than she intended. “Look,” Rudy said, with forced patience, “the sooner you let me off the line, the sooner I can get started, so, bye for now. “Bye, Rudy. Thanks again.” She hung up the line, feeling little better than when she had first made the call. Once she’d sent the article to Paul, she lost control of it. If only she could just walk it through the system herself. She fought the urge to call back. She looked at Tom and Marko instead, sighing. “So, now you’re ready to go out and get him?” Tom said. Anna nodded. “Soon, I hope.” “Perhaps you should go to your room and take a nap,” Marko suggested. “You guys,” she said overcome with emotion, pausing to form

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the words she wanted to say. “I couldn’t have come this far without both of you. Your help has meant a lot to me. There’s so much going on right now. Please, stick with me. We’re so close now. I have a favor to ask. Dobrila was put in my care, but I need to stay near the phone in case Chicago calls. Marko, can you go back to the hospital and see how she’s doing?” “Sure, no problem.” “While he does that, please go away,” Tom insisted. “Take a nap, or something. I have to work here, editing tape. When Chicago phones, I’ll come get you.” Anna was moving at light speed. Napping was out of the question, but a quick shower and some time to herself would be nice. It sounded as if the guys could use some time away from hers, as well. In her single-minded drive to get David out, she had ridden them hard the last few days. Nodding in agreement, she and Marko left the room, leaving Tom to his editing. Marko seemed to sense her restlessness as they walked down the hallway. “Stop!” he said. “Stop, just for one moment.” He grabbed her hand, and gazed into her hazel eyes. He pulled her toward him in an embrace. “Anna, you’re amazing.” “Are you for real?” “Yes,” he said, earnestly. This made Anna smile. Since English wasn’t the language Marko thought in, he took everything literally. “If it weren’t for David, would you consider me?” Marko asked. “Consider you?” Anna asked, realizing he was serious. Marko turned red. “Sorry. Sometimes I go too far.” “No, you don’t. You speak from your heart, and that’s good. Let me speak from mine. Few times in my life have I allowed myself to trust anyone. Out of that trust, grew love.” “So, you love me? Like a brother, or something more?’ “Like a brother, Marko. But more than that, no. There is so little time for love and what it means. David and I love each other, and always will. Yet, as adults, we’ve never had time to be more. Maybe that’s the way it was meant to be. Life isn’t easy at times.

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That said, it doesn’t make love any less if, anything, it has made our love stronger because time for us is precious.” Anna hugged him. They held each other for a moment. Her true feelings surfaced and released in the close embrace. A loving hand lay soft and warm on her back. She had nothing further to say to Marko, now. The agitation she had felt when talking to Chicago was gone. “I’ll check on Dobrila. I am a bit nervous about that,” Marko said. “Why?” “What they did to her, it makes me so angry it scares me.” Marko admitted. “Me too. Anger and helplessness.” “How do you handle it?” “The only way I know, write about it. Once there was a woman named Sarah. She lived in Chicago. I formed a strong emotional attachment to her. She worked hard at two jobs with very long hours trying to make ends meet. Often, after a very long day, her husband would wake her up in the middle of the night and rape her. Whenever she attempted to dissuade him, he would fly into violent rages, screaming and cursing, breaking furniture. After years of enduring that torment, Sarah attempted to take charge of her life by moving into her own bedroom in the house. She took trips on her own. Everyone around her claimed that she was just sowing wild oats.” “Wild Oats?” “It’s an expression that means doing foolish things while you’re young. In Sarah’s case, she married and started a family very young. So, when she started to act independently, everyone thought she was going through a stage of sowing wild oats. Despite what happened, she loved her husband. With no one to talk to, she questioned her actions, taking the blame for her husband’s dark moods. As I interviewed her, anger threatened to overpower me, but I had to stay contained and listen. Her husband acted like the perfect gentleman, and it appeared the whole problem was her fault. Out of all the articles I’ve ever written, that story got the

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biggest response. Hundreds of women wrote to tell me they were in a similar situation, thanking me for making them think about their own circumstances. Being able to express Sarah’s story helped me, even though I was still angry about her situation.” “I’m not sure I could interview people who have suffered,” Marko said. “Interviewing people who have experienced trauma was difficult for me at first. Often I’ve found myself uncomfortable with the intensity of feelings that a survivor has. Trying to make someone feel better before they accept what has happened to them is not a good thing, but that was my first intuition. To spare the rawness of their feelings, I learned it’s best to accept their stories as they emerge, realizing that’s probably the best I could do for their healing.” Anna stepped back, smiled and said, “I do love you.” “I know.” As he turned and walked down the hall, she watched, thinking of the night she couldn’t sleep. She had talked to Marko about life in Chicago, shared with him her ambition as a child to be a writer. His goals were similar, but had been interrupted by war. A soft sadness filled her but she pushed it away with thoughts of a hot shower. At last, she managed to get a shower without interruption, then dressed in a sweat suit and stretched out on the bed. Tomorrow, David, she thought. Then, what? She’d lived the last week and a half from moment to moment with a specific goal in mind. Was it actually coming to a close? Images of walking with David along Navy Pier comforted her. Perhaps in Chicago, they could take the boat tour that showed off the magnificent architecture of the city. David would like that. One of his ambitions had been to become an architect. He had always been interested in designing and building. Was he still interested in those things? Thoughts of Chicago made her homesick. Strange, when she first moved there, the city had felt uncomfortable. Now, it was home. She missed her apartment, her coworkers and friends and wanted to get back to the familiar

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comforts. But this time, she wanted to be there with David. A knock at her door broke her daydream. Peering out the peephole, she saw Tom, and opened the door. “My, you look lovely,” he said. She took the towel off her head. “Bet you say that to all the girls.” “Chicago’s on the line.” Anna grabbed her room key from the dresser, joining Tom at the door. “Aren’t you going to put your shoes on?” he asked. “Why? Are we going dancing or something?” Impatience grabbed at her as they started down the hall. “We have been known to dance.” “I know,” Anna said, not slowing down. “You should be happy to know that you hadn’t crippled me for life.” Tom laughed as he followed. The CTV door was open, and Anna made her way to the phone. “Anna, here,” she said, a little breathless. “It’s Paul. Rudy showed me your story, and I’ve got to tell you, I have serious reservations about it.” She’d known he would. An unusual column that didn’t fit the editorial style of the paper. “Please Paul, I have an exclusive coming if you print it.” “Rudy said as much. But it’s not just the nonsense this guy is spewing, it’s also that none of our readers will understand what the heck he’s talking about.” “C’mon, Paul, isn’t there something you and Rudy could do without changing it much? This one needs to be run as is. My next one is a barn burner exclusive and it hinges on this piece.” “I don’t know, Anna.” “Paul, don’t make me beg.” “Please don’t. I’ll work on it and try to keep it true to what you’ve written as much as possible. One thing.” “What’s that?” “You’ll be assigned any story of my choosing when you get back.”

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“It’s a deal.” Anna breathed a sigh of relief. So what if she had to cover a ribbon cutting ceremony of the mayor. As long as she had David, she could handle that. “I need Rudy to fax me a mock-up of the piece as soon as possible. How long, you think?” “Couple of hours, Anna.” “Thanks. Exclusive with David Warren in two days, I promise.” “Good. We have a great photo of David tied to a post. We’re running it on page one as a lead up to your anticipated column.” So, David’s fifteen minutes of fame would be shared alongside the ranting of a Serbian militiaman. This annoyed Anna, but everything was in place, she just had to hold steady until it was done. Thanking Paul again, she hung up, but her mind was already elsewhere, planning the logistics of getting back into the warehouse the next day and getting David out. The story she’d write about David for the Trib would be based on fact, but would go no farther. No one else would understand the importance of sandcastle memories on a distant beach. “Anna, are you all right?” Tom asked, his hand on her shoulder. “Just thinking.” “About what?” “Oh, the last summer spent in Deep River with David.” “Tell me about it.” “Why?” “It came to your mind for a reason. Maybe you’re trying to work something out. Besides, I’m bored to tears and need a good story.” “Okay, you asked for it. We were both eighteen and we both knew we were heading in different directions come that September. Thinking we could use some time to figure out our future, I suggested we go backpacking in Algonquin Park. We canoed and camped on the islands. The nights were vivid and clear with a magnificent view of the stars. Snuggling beside him looking at the moon and stars, I knew if I asked David to come to L.A. with me, he would. But he was set to start school in Ottawa, and if he asked me to go to Ottawa with him, despite loving him with all my heart, the answer would have been no.”

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“Well, you had a great opportunity with your scholarship. You would have been foolish to give that up,” Tom said, attempting to reassure her. “It was that, and the fact I didn’t have any money. Friends asked me to go out with them. I had to say no. I couldn’t tell them why. With David, things were different. I could tell him the sky was green. The man believed so much in me that he’d see it. L.A. was a great opportunity, the only way for me to start my own life.” “So, you never said, and he never asked.” “Nope, we just enjoyed the stars, the moon and our time together.”

CHAPTER 24 To pass time in his cell, David imagined himself back home, sinking into a bathtub of warm, clean water. Allowing himself the luxury of dreaming of baths and hot food, and thoughts of going to a supermarket and buying any food he wanted. He was momentarily amused at his thought of trying to bargain the final price at the supermarket checkout. Bargaining had become part of his everyday life. In Bosnia, nothing had a price except that which the buyer and seller could agree upon. To be able, once more, to look at a price tag, and to pay that price at the counter, was a satisfying thought. A trio of explosions brought the war back to him. The artillery fire was a reminder that he was not safe at home. Starving people of Sarajevo did not have the options of those in United States. Providing the caloric intake necessary for people to stay healthy was becoming increasingly difficult. UN food convoys had to get going again. As always, the children would suffer the most if the Bosnian Serbs continued their blockades. Leaving his work unfinished grated on his nerves, as did the idea that his release depended on Spider being interviewed by Anna. The same man who had beaten him and Dobrila was going to be given a prominent place in the Chicago Tribune. Violence seemed the only way to get the media’s attention. David had witnessed extraordinary worthy acts in his work around the world. These acts seemed to be ignored. Yet, any group of people with guns made headlines. This sort of tunnel vision made the world a scary place. There was something else eating at him... some deep longing

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hidden from view. He felt that something was missing in his life. Was it Anna? So many years ago, he had played with the idea of going to L.A. with her. He took satisfaction that he had acted selflessly in that respect. Only when she could see the world through her own eyes and not his, could she become a writer. The cell door opened, and David looked up from his cot. The doctor and a guard entered. David eased his way to a sitting position. From the doctor’s broad smile, he surmised that his release was at hand. “It’s time to go, David.” “Spider isn’t here to send me off?” “Spider?” “Never mind,” David said, following the doctor out of his cell. They meandered through the hallways that interlaced the compound. David wanted to run, to escape before another locked door slammed in his face. He didn’t know if he could stand further imprisonment. His smart-ass attitude was begging for an argument. As the hallway opened to a lobby, David spotted Anna. She looked haggard and red faced. Spider had, no doubt, made the last bit very difficult for her. When she saw him, her face relaxed. A wave of emotion swept over him, but he held it back. The bastards weren’t going to see him cry. “Ms. McBride, so nice to see you,” David said. Anna nodded her head and gave a nervous smile. “Nice to see you, Mr. Warren. There is a car waiting, we must not keep them.” She placed her hand on his shoulder, abruptly directing him to the door. “Rather anxious to keep moving, eh?” he whispered. “Oh, just a tad.” No one spoke as they walked toward liberation. Wild energy filled him as freedom approached. Outside, the compound was full of soldiers eyeing the entourage warily, refusing to move. David and Anna had to weave their way in and out of the men as they headed toward the front gate. A soldier bumped David. “Go back to your Muslim friends,” he spat on the ground.

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Stopping and looking into the man’s face with defiance. David shouted, “I am!” The soldier stepped forward but the doctor held him back as Anna pulled her friend toward the front gate. “David,” she whispered in a harsh tone, “get it together and remember you’re putting me at risk, too!” Biting his lip, he realized that in his bitterness and anger, that he was being stupid by not taking care in a situation involving Anna. The doctor shook hands with him, wishing him well. Nodding at the doctor, David took a deep breath as the gate opened. The anxiety in Anna passed through him when her nails dug into his arm as they headed out of the compound. In the distance, patters of gunfire broke the gray afternoon. David saw a Land Rover parked near the wall, two men leaning against the doors. “This is Tom and Marko. They helped me get you out.” He smiled at them, though the meaning of the words weren’t clear. The back door was opened and he climbed in with Anna. She hugged his arm as he looked back at the fenced compound. The welcome sound of the Rover’s engine and the dull hum of the gray road back to Sarajevo allowed him to relax. “David,” Anna said, “we’re still in Bosnian Serb territory. We’ve got checkpoints to clear. Do you understand?” He nodded his understanding that any more smart remarks could get them all killed. Something was awaking within him, bringing him back to his senses. “Dobrila?” he asked. The thought of his fellow prisoner brought him a sense of structure. “She’s fine. They’re caring for her in the hospital. Marko was with her last night.” She nodded toward the driver. “Did you talk to her?” he asked the young man in the front. “Yes, a remarkable woman,” Marko said. “I know.” Crossing a bridge, they came to a roadblock manned by Bosnian Serb soldiers. He felt Anna’s grip tighten on his arm as

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the Rover slowed to a halt. Marko rolled down the window and handed a soldier some papers. David studied the old soldier with a scar on his left cheek. His sad eyes were those of a man who would rather be someplace else. Everything seemed to be in order and they were soon on their way once more. David fell asleep on Anna’s shoulder. A more peaceful man now, compared to the one who had left the compound, muscles tight, wanting to bolt in any dangerous direction. She had seen it before when his friend Brian was killed in a boating accident. Showing up at her door in Chicago, eyes wild and unfocused, needing to vent, to release his anguish. After he had ranted all his feelings about his friend, he’d gone out meandering around Chicago alone and gotten lost. This was different, though, being locked up. She wondered what the long-term effect would be. She nudged David. He opened bewildered eyes, then smiled at her. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Never mind,” she replied. Marko pulled up to the Holiday Inn. Tom jumped out of the Rover and ran to the other side, opening David’s door with flair, receiving him as if he were a visiting dignitary. Anna appeared at his side. Placing her hand on his back, she led him forward. The UN would want him to stay in the hospital overnight if they knew he was out. For now, Anna wanted to keep quiet about his release from both the UN and the press. She took comfort in the Serbian doctor who had told her that David had no serious physical injuries. Anna arranged for a private doctor to exam him after a night’s rest. Marko and Tom stood on either side of David, helping him as Anna followed. They took the back staircase to avoid anyone who might recognize their rescued hostage. “Where’s the elevator?” David groaned. “Sorry,” said Tom. “You can make it, it’s only on the third floor.”

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They made their way up the stairs and into the room at the end of the hall. Anna opened the door and stepped inside. “Here we are, home sweet home,” she said. David put his arms around her. “It’s good to be home,” he said, squeezing her. “Come on,” Tom said. “Let’s celebrate.” He poured Jack Daniel’s for himself, David and Marko. Anna sat on her bed as she watched her three men, sighing. After the last two weeks, running like a rat in a maze, what was happening around her was almost unbelievable. David emptied his glass in one gulp. Tom laughed and poured another drink for his fellow Canadian, and the two sat at the little round table in the center of the room. Marko walked over and sat beside Anna. “I’m going back to the hospital,” he whispered. “To see Dobrila?” she asked. “Yes, I promised to visit today. I’d take David, but it’s better he stay here for now. He doesn’t look as if he’s in any condition to see her just yet. She’ll be happy to know he is out, though.” Anna watched David as he downed another double of Jack Daniel’s. She felt uneasy about his drinking. “Hey, boys, ease up a bit,” she said. David looked at her, “I love you Anna. Always have, always will.” “Well, I have to go,” Marko said. “Ah, no,” Tom said. Anna shot Tom a look that told him not to pursue it. “Is it something I said?” David asked, joking. “Well, I love you, too, Marko.” “What about me?” Tom said. “Keep pouring the JD, buddy,” David said. David got up, crossed the room to Marko and shook his hand, more solemn now. “For whatever your part was in my release, know that I appreciate it very much.” After Marko left, Anna joined the two men. Tom had become the journalist again, and was asking questions about David’s cell

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time. The whiskey was working on both of the men. David ignored the questions, insisting on telling embarrassing stories of when they were kids, some of which Anna preferred that Tom not know. Tom told a few of his own about Anna and the Gulf War. They were drunk, but Anna couldn’t help laughing at their stories. David leaned over, and kissed Anna. “I love you,” he repeated, his speech slurring. “Maybe I should leave,” Tom said, looking from David to Anna, then back again. Anna punched David on the arm. “That’s the JD talking.” “No, I do love you,” David said, looking solemn. She smiled at him and squeezed his hand. “Okay,” Tom said, “you two are getting too mushy, I’m out of here.” “Oh, sure” Anna said. “Fill him full of whiskey then leave me to deal with him.” “No thanks are needed, Anna, just part of the job,” Tom said, winking. They looked over at David whose eyes were getting heavy. “Well, at least help me get him to the bed.” Tom walked around the table to David. “Come on, buddy, time to say goodnight.” They gently pulled him, moving him to the bed. David fell into the covers, still professing his love. “Geese, Anna, you came all the way across the world for this?” asked Tom. “Well, of course, Tom, they don’t have guys like this in Chicago.” She walked Tom to the door. “Thank you so much for your help.” Hugging him was natural. “No problem. I’m glad he’s safe.” “Me, too. Good night ” “Night. Remember, I’m right down the hall if you need me.” As she shut the door, she heard David’s loud snoring. Walking toward the bed, she looked at him and smiled, realizing he was really there. The whole trip to get to this point had been a

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whirlwind of activity. As she listened to his peaceful breathing, she leaned over and pulled the covers over him. His eyes opened and it seemed she was an angel appearing over him. He smiled at her. “I love you,” he said, again. “You’re drunk.” She placed her head on his chest, wrapping her arms around him. “Maybe true,” he murmured, “but that’s when I’m most honest. Remember the time we took the canoe trip and got caught in the storm?” She smiled, cuddling against him. “I remember that trip,” she said. “We were all of thirteen.” “I remember the warmth, Anna. The love I had for you even then. Never told you this, but in my mind that day, I made a promise to love you forever.” With his eyes full of tenderness and compassion, he kissed her. He stroked her hair and mumbled, “Stay with me forever, Anna.” “Go to sleep, silly,” she whispered, but didn’t loosen her hold. He held her, afraid that she wasn’t real, that she would be taken away. He was afraid he would close his eyes and upon waking, she’d be gone. “Will you marry me?” he whispered. “You are drunk,” she said again, staring into his eyes. “Yes, but will you?” “Ask me someday when you’re sober.” “What will you say?” “Close your eyes and go to sleep, David.” Closing her own eyes, she snuggled closer.

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CHAPTER 25 Marko was in a talkative mood. He brought coffee, tea, hot chocolate and bread to the room that morning. She sipped the scalding chocolate while watching him, but he avoided eye contact with her while brooding over his cup of tea. “I left Sarajevo in June 1993, after two friends were killed there,” Marko said. “What were their names?” Anna asked. “Bosko Brekic and Admira Ismic. Both were twenty-five. They were shot near the Vrbanja Bridge.” “I remember that,” David said, nodding. “My team helped negotiate the recovery of their bodies. Sorry for your friends.” He placed his hand on Marko’s shoulder. Anna saw tears in Marko’s eyes. How long had he carried that loss inside? Encouraging him to speak about it would be good. If the loss wasn’t acknowledged, it turned into fear and restlessness, then after awhile, into deep depression. How would she have coped with the loss of David? Marko cleared his throat and continued. “They had been sweethearts since high school. A Serb and a Muslim. Authorities from both sides agreed to let them pass through the lines so that they could be together. As they passed Bosnian lines and headed for Serb-held Grbavica, they were shot at the same time by snipers. Bosko fell instantly but Admira managed to crawl over and hold him...they died, in each other’s arms.” This slender young man, with his blue eyes and his innocent, brooding face had slipped into her life in an unassuming manner. Their secret stories came out painfully. There were deep sorrows

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within her men and she knew either of them would walk through fire if she needed them, as she would for them. “They were my friends. I loved them,” Marko said, lifting his head to look at Anna. “We are left to remember,” David said. “It’s important to tell their story so that love continues in this land even when there is little evidence of it.” “Who really cares?” asked Marko. “We do,” Anna said. Kneeling, she wrapped her arms around his chest, and held him. Marko lowered his head to her shoulder and wept. What David says is true she thought, holding the sobbing younger man. As Marko’s painful memories surfaced, so to would his sorrow and doubt. But Anna knew that beyond his intense emotions was an ever-lasting story of a friendship that was. David joined them, placing one hand on Marko’s head, the other hand on Anna’s back. They stayed that way for a long time, silence broken only by deep sobs. When there were no more tears to be shed, Marko stood. “Thank you,” he said wiping his eyes and rubbing his face with his hands. “I haven’t spoken about this before. I didn’t expect to talk about it today. Sorry.” “It’s okay,” David said. “We need to talk about the things we’ve experienced here. It’s the only way to move on with our lives.” Arrangements were made for the three to meet in the afternoon to visit. Anna walked Marko to the door, and gently shut it behind him. When she turned to David, she saw him reaching for the bottle of Jack Daniel’s. “David,” she pleaded, “no more. Please.” He smiled, and left the bottle untouched. The rest of the morning was filled with appointments. She took David to the UN doctor who lived at the hotel. To her relief, the check-up proved David was fine. The doctor felt it healthier for David to stay at the hotel than at the hospital. The hospital of late was becoming a favored shelling target.

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A general press conference was scheduled in the hotel restaurant, and Anna passed the word to journalists as to the timing. Given enough time, the UN or the Bosnian government could shut down the press gathering. Anna introduced David to the rag-tagged journalists who were slumped lazily in their chairs. “I wish to make a statement without interruptions,” David said, “then I’ll answer questions.” He was nervous as he cleared his throat. No one knew what he was about to say, not even himself. “There are three governments representing Croats, Muslims, and Serbs. Each of these governments is guilty of ethnic cleansing and the murder of innocent people. What is being reported to the Western world is that the Serbs are the evil party. There are criminal acts being committed by each side of this conflict. The vast majority in the former Yugoslavia are good, hard working people who are being used in an ethnic struggle for power. The Bosnian Serb militia headed by a colonel, Rajko Eric, took me hostage. In my opinion, Colonel Eric committed criminal acts. But the colonel is only one of many criminals in this conflict. To portray the Serbian population as criminals because of the action of a few isn’t good journalism. I’m most familiar with the suffering of a Muslim population because I was stationed in Sarajevo. But I don’t place a higher value on suffering of one population over another. Neither, should you, as good journalists.” Before David could take questions, a Bosnian journalist stormed him. Grabbing David’s collar, the man started punching him. Journalists crushed one another as scuffles broke out all through the room. A firm grip pulled David’s shirt, removing him from a pile of journalist. On his feet once more, he followed Marko to a side room. Once they were inside, the door was quickly locked. The grim faces of Tom, Marko and Anna didn’t welcome him. “I think that went well,” David said.

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“It was reckless and stupid,” Tom answered, irritated by the event. Anna let out a deep sigh. “Can anyone tell me how we can get him out of the country now?” “We talked about this,” David said. Anna shook her head. “No! We didn’t talk about accusations of murder and ethnic cleansing.” “It’s done,” Marko said. “Besides, what he said was the truth.” “The truth could have waited until we were out of Bosnia,” she said. She knew it was fatigue. They were all tired. “I still owe favors, an interview with Tom and the London Times. Are you up for it? “Sure, no worries!” David said. “I do worry. Now, listen to some advice,” she said. “Shoot!” “You’ve made your statement earlier,” she said. “Now, tell them about Dobrila. Get her story out there.” Anna made notes while David performed for Tom in his CTV interview. Any animosity Tom had felt earlier soon disappeared. After the interview, David worked the journalists. When asked about his statement at the press conference, he answered that there was nothing to add to it. Returning to their room, she watched him glance at the bottle of whiskey as he paced back and forth. Her earlier request must have made an impression because he never touched it. After several suggestions for him to relax, she got David to lie down beside her, and soon he was asleep. In slumber, tension eased from his face. A tug-of-war waged inside her. There was so much to do yet she didn’t want to leave him. Reaching over to touch his face, she was careful not to wake him. The Tribune expected something for her all-expenses-paid vacation. Easing herself from the bed and walking over to the desk, she set to work on her own story. David had the sense of swimming to the surface. The feeling

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of water and light invigorated him, moving him through something of substance. In the distance, a clicking sound compelled his eyes to open. Through the haze, Anna sat typing at her laptop. Watching her, he wondered what she had gone through to get to Bosnia. The journey must have been demanding on her. She had put her life on the line, expending energy and time on him, just because she was Anna. As if she heard his thoughts, she looked up and smiled. “You’re awake.” “Aye, that I am, my love,” he said. “For as long as I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you take a nap.” “You tired me out. What time will Marko be by to pick us up?” “About an hour. You can rest some more, I’m just finishing up.” “I need a shower,” he said, sitting up. A shower would make him feel whole again. During the check-up that morning, he’d overheard the doctor and Anna talking in the next room as he dressed. The doctor told her that his physical condition was fine. However, after confinement he was more worried about the state of mind. David was aware of post stress after such events, but he felt fine at the moment. He knew Anna was concerned when he reached for the bottle that morning. This strange urge made him wonder about his grandfather’s need to drink. Shaking his tangled hair, he got up, crossed the room to Anna and kissed her on the top of the head. Anna grabbed his hand as he was heading to the washroom door. “I want a real kiss,” she said. David leaned down and kissed her lips. As he pressed his lips to hers, he felt desire. The delicious scent of her body filled him. He was beginning to melt, and knew that if he didn’t break it off now, he would never make it to the shower. He slowly drew his head from hers, all the time looking into her eyes.

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“That’s a kiss,” she whispered. “Oh my, that it was.” He shifted his thoughts to his visit to Dobrila. There would be time for love later. There was no need to rush. Being in the car, feeling the sun from the window and flying through traffic was a treat for David. Marko had remarkable skill maneuvering Sarajevo streets on the way to the hospital. Holding Anna’s hand, he laughed nervously as they passed cars that seemed to be standing still, no longer experiencing the fear of death but the exhilarating feelings of a roller coaster ride. David was familiar with the State Hospital Sarajevo. Health facilities were often targeted. Buildings and equipment sustained a lot of damage. When David had first arrived in Sarajevo, the pre-war medical supplies were already exhausted. He had tried to obtain equipment from whatever source he could. A functioning hospital was critical for the city, but was only possible through the help of external aid organizations. “A reporter might want to do a story on the hospital,” David said. “Is that right?” Anna asked. “And a story on the people running it under impossible conditions.” “Have you a particular reporter in mind?” “Maybe.” As they made their way through the hospital, he recognized many people he’d worked with. They welcomed him, shook his hand and patted him on the back. The attention was uncomfortable to him. At times he felt like a fraud, a tourist in a disaster zone. “Do you know everyone in Sarajevo?” Anna teased. “Um, everyone who likes Jack Daniel’s.” They followed Marko through the hallways. Anna grabbed David’s hand, squeezing hard. “Ouch,” he said, laughing. “What’s that for?” “The alcohol. It bothers me.”

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“Sorry. It’s a joke.” “I remember your grandfather.” “Me too, baby. It’s never going to happen to me.” He had thought about it, though. During his time here, alcohol had been part of daily living, a course of everyday recreation in a war zone. When he could get his hands on it, that was. Marko led them into the hospital ward. Beds were almost stacked on top of one another. Since the shelling, the rooms in the upper floors had been evacuated to the lower floors. Antiseptic smells filled David’s nostrils, reminding him of surgery he had years ago. Cries buzzed in his ear as overworked nurses ran from bed to bed. The heat, noise and crowded conditions made him wonder how anyone could heal in a place like this. David spotted Dobrila as Marko approached her bedside. Marko leaned over, kissed her cheek, and greeted her in Serbian. She smiled at him, then turned and smiled at David. He leaned over and hugged her. “David, I was so happy when Marko told me you got out last night,” Dobrila said. “Last night?” David said. He looked at Marko. “I couldn’t sleep,” Marko said, shrugging his shoulders. “You’ve met Anna, our saint and savior?” David asked Dobrila. “Yes.” She held her hand out to Anna. Anna took her hand, and sat on the side of the bed. “You’re looking much better today.” “Thank you. Marko, you translate for me, okay? I want so much to say something to David and Anna.” Marko nodded and Dobrila spoke musically in her own language without hesitation. “She says, ‘I lost my heart, I lost all hope. I thought it would never return. Then in hell, I heard a voice tell me hope was still alive. At first, I dared not to believe. Marko paused and listened as Dobrila continued. “‘I began to want to live again, if only to hear David’s beautiful words. Then one day, this beautiful angel, David’s Anna, reached into hell and brought me out. Life will

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never be the same. I still have to find my children, but I know there are kind people in the world. I will keep your hearts close to me in order to keep the hope.’” Marko turned to David and Anna. “It wasn’t a literal translation; what she said was more beautiful than that, but it was the best I could do.” Dobrila took Marko’s hand and kissed it.

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CHAPTER 26 Anna rose early to work. David was filling her days, and the only chance to work was when he slept. A representative of the International War Crimes Tribunal wanted an interview, but she still hadn’t had time to interview him herself. The obligation to produce an in-depth interview for her employer caused her to feel guilty about not having it done yet. David was very independent, but she suspected his confinement had shaken his confidence, making him vulnerable. Tom wanted to take David on a tour of Sarajevo in hope of shaking out some new stories. Anna loved and respected Tom, but suspected the two would end up bar hopping at wartime nightclubs. Over protective? Maybe, but David himself had shown no indication of wanting to be away from her. David was always talking about maintenance work. He commented on broken hospital windows, the broken heating system, and deplorable hygiene practices. She suspected he was trying focus his attention on other things. Perhaps, when David talked about maintenance work, it was an attempt at some internal maintenance work of his own. A pattern in David’s behavior seemed to be emerging. Even when he felt bad, if someone else was consumed by sadness, he shifted his attention to care for that person and as he actively engaged in helping that person, his own spirits rose. She saw it with his conversations with Marko and Dobrila. This gave her an idea to put him to work. In working, perhaps he could solve any internal conflicts he harbored about his

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confinement. Worth a shot, at least. Anna took a deep breath. If she was ever going to get her work done, she’d have to start concentrating. “Good morning,” David said, still somewhat asleep. Anna chuckled. “Good morning, sleepy head.” “You’re up early.” “A deadline awaits.” “Must be hard with me here.” “Yes,” she said, laughing. “Because with you here, all I want to do is play.” “Is there something I can do to help? What are you working on?” “You! And yes, you can help.” Anna grabbed her notepad and searched through it, found her list of questions, which she tore out and handed to him. “Would you mind looking at these questions and writing out answers for them? This would help a great deal, hon.” “Okay.” Little enthusiasm accompanied his voice. “I’ll take a shower, have some coffee, then go through your questions.” “You don’t have to.” “No, it’s fine.” He walked toward the shower, head down, shoulders slumped. “Hey, you, where’s my hug?” That made him smile. “Right here.” Opening his arms as she stood, they embraced. He stroked her long, dark hair as he wound it around his finger. “You have Irish eyes,” she said. “What?’ “Irish eyes. They smile.” “Ah, I see,” he laughed. He pulled her to the bed. “Sit here.” He stood in front of her and cleared his voice, then sang, “When Irish eyes are smiling. Sure it’s like a morn in spring. In the lilt of Irish laughter You can hear the angels sing. When Irish hearts are happy.

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All the world seems bright and gay. And when Irish eyes are smiling. Sure they steal your heart away.” Anna clapped. David bowed for drama. “Aye, these Irish eyes love to see ya laugh. Now, if that is all m’lady requires, I am off to shower.” “It’s not all this lady requires,” she said, grabbing him, and pulling him onto the bed. They smiled at each other. There was something about David that begged her to play. She took the initiative, running her fingers through his hair and pulling his head down toward hers. Their lips pressed firmly. Anna felt herself relax. There was a loud knock at the door. “Go away, we’re sleeping.” Anna shouted. “It’s Tom. It’s urgent.” His voice was muffled. Anna growled, lifting herself out of the bed. David lay on his back, putting his hands behind his head. She gave him one last quick kiss and headed to the door. “It had better be urgent,” she said, pulling the door open. Her demeanor changed as she looked at Tom’s worried face. “What is it?” “Marko’s missing.” “What do you mean, Marko’s missing?” she asked, in a worried tone.” “Two hours ago he left to gas up the Rover. Still hasn’t come back. Should have taken him twenty minutes tops. We went out looking for him. Can’t find him anywhere.” David came to the door, buttoning his shirt. “Where was he going to fill up?” Anna had images of Marko being captured or hurt. Her mind jumped from image to image. “The station by the market, but it was closed. They had no fuel,” Tom said.” “So he’d check out the black market. Maybe he’s still searching without having any luck,” David said.

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“Yeah, we thought so, too. It’s happened before. Every time he’s had problems, though, he’s contacted us. This just isn’t like him.” “Are we just going to stand here talking about it, or are we going to try to find him?” While she sounded in control, anxiety permeated her voice. “You and Tom go check out the hospital. I’ll go see Ivica,” David said. A wave of mild hysteria rolled over her. She’d rescued one man only to lose another. Marko might show up at any minute with that silly grin of his. She didn’t intend to separate from David. “No, we’re going to stick together.” “Not this time, Anna. I may have to see people who won’t appreciate my bringing anyone else along, let alone a journalist.” “You don’t need to worry about me.” “Oh, but I do, all the time.” Putting his hand on her shoulder, he turned her toward Tom. “Take her to the hospital.” “David knows the territory better than we do. Let’s just go check the hospitals.” Angered inflamed her. “Now look, you two. I’m not a child. My judgement and instincts have been dead on. The last couple of weeks, I’ve made things happen. David’s not well. It’s just not safe.” David put his arm around her. “It’s okay. We need to find Marko.” “It’s not okay,” Anna insisted. “We’re staying together.” “No, Anna. Look at me. Remember me? Trust...just trust me.” “Trust? What about trusting me?” A hurt expression crossed David’s face, but she didn’t apologize. They thought she was being unreasonable, but all her instincts were screaming they should stay together. “Calm down, Anna,” Tom said. “We’re wasting time.” “Calm down! How can you tell me to calm down? It’s not safe for him, Tom.” She was losing control, tears were streaming. “Anna, listen,” David pleaded, “this whole place isn’t safe for

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any of us. A quick decision has to be made and I’m asking you to trust me.” She refused to look at him, staring up at the ceiling, trying to control the flood of tears. “Fine, David, go,” she said, waving him off. “Please don’t be angry.” “Come on, Tom, let’s go check the hospitals.” Anna turned and stormed back to the bed where she’d left her shoes. She put them on in stony silence. David started to follow her, but Tom held him back. “Just let her be. She’s just worried about you and Marko.” “It’s not that I don’t want her with me, but people are nervous, they don’t trust strangers.” “We all know that. She’s just tired.” “Take care of her,” David said. “We’ll meet in two hours at the hospital. I’ll contact the nursing station on Dobrila’s ward if delayed.” Anna ignored them. She started out the door. David grabbed her hand. “What, no hug?” he asked. She hugged him, angry and upset, but what if this was the last time they saw each other? “Please be careful,” she said against his chest. “Remember, I love you.” “Wherever you go, whatever you do. I’ll always love you,” he whispered back. As David drove toward Ivica’s compound, he feared the worst. Sarajevo was becoming more dangerous as various groups competed for control of the black market trade in the area. The Land Rover would fetch a price on the market and that could have made Marko a target. David knew that, for relief workers, conditions were especially dangerous. The combatants in Bosnia targeted not only each other, but also journalists, doctors, and relief workers. All he wanted to do was find Marko alive and well, then get Anna out of Bosnia. Driving around Sarajevo alone made him nervous. The last

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time, the Bosnian Serbs had picked him up. “Gotta get back on the horse,” he told himself. The further from the city he drove, the more the surroundings changed. In Ivica’s area, there was less war damage. Any fighting in his neighborhood brought swift retribution. At the gate of the compound were well dressed, well armed guards. Rolling down the window, he gave his name to the guard. The man pulled out a two-way radio, speaking into it. David waited about two minutes, then the guard gate was opened, and he was waved through. After parking the car, he headed to the front door of the house. The door guard frisked him for weapons, then led him to the side of the house and through a garden gate. Sunlight filtered down through the trees. The manicured lawn and stone path was another world from that of war-torn Sarajevo. They arrived at the back patio, which gently flowed into the wooded yard. The guard instructed David to take a seat and wait. The central area included corners for quiet conversation but was also large enough to handle a crowd. David knew that the best design was often the simplest. Enjoying the view, he again marveled that this was Sarajevo. Ivica had created a little island of peace. “Do you like it?” Ivica asked, striding from the house. David nodded as he stood and the two men shook hands. Ivica put his arm around his shoulders, leading him down to the gardens. “I have missed you,” Ivica said as they walked. “I am heavy company for myself. Ghosts are creeping over me, my dear, David. Anybody that comes to see me, asks for some sort of favor. What is your request?” David felt guilty and stayed silent. There was new sadness in Ivica that intrigued him. However, this little outburst at their greeting wasn’t like the Ivica he remembered. Often, he disagreed with Ivica, but felt deep gratitude for the friendship and protection. “Enough of that!” Ivica said, tossing his hand into the air. “Come, I know you love ponds.” They followed the path under a stone arch over a wooden

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bridge. A stream flowed under the bridge to two ponds and a waterfall. The water garden was in full bloom and David could see fish dashing around the plant life. “It’s beautiful,” David said. He began to wish that Anna were there with him, after all. Yet, he was anxious to get to business. Time was ticking away. “Yes, it’s a good place for a wedding,” Ivica said, laughing. “Perhaps you and Anna. You know your Anna would have told me what she wanted the minute I left the house. She is fast and determined, a real firebrand. On the other hand, you, my friend, are slow and determined. I suspect you meet in the middle someplace.” “You’re right. I need something from you.”

CHAPTER 27 The State Hospital was a hive of activity as the staff received reports that a number of wounded Bosnian troops were on their way. Anna and Tom had already checked Kosevo Hospital and UN Headquarters for any news about Marko. She was torturing herself with regrets. She had encouraged him to go where he wanted to go. She had trusted that he was invincible, even admiring his driving each time they had gone down sniper’s alley. Luck plays itself out and she should have reined him in. Sitting at Dobrila’s bedside, Anna half-listened to stories about her children. There was no use mentioning Marko yet, since they didn’t know anything. Tom was somewhere in the hospital doing double duty as a reporter and as Marko’s friend. God knows where David was. Women throughout history were waiting for men, waiting for their safe return home. Waiting was a habit she hated with a passion. “I don’t know what the word is,” Dobrila said. “What?” Anna asked, embarrassed that she had lost the thread of what Dobrila was saying. “There is a word in English when you run away to get married.” “Eloped.” “Yes, we eloped, my husband and I,” Dobrila confirmed. “Where I came from, it was assumed that Serb girls would marry Serbs, and Muslim girls, Muslims.” “How did your parents take it?” Anna asked. “Mother was very upset, but Father seemed happy that my husband had a good job.”

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At times, something greater than the voices of our parents matters, Anna thought. She gazed at Dobrila, and despite the harsh realities, she saw a woman in the process of healing. As Dobrila spoke, Anna saw expressions ranging from unbearable anguish to angelic expressions of pure joy. Love doesn’t know the way of the future or possess the facts. Love is to be an experience to hold and nurture. As if in answer to her thoughts, Dobrila said, “David loves you very much Anna.” “Yes, well you know David. He loves everybody.” “Oh, there is so much feeling in the stories he told about you.” “David has a big mouth.” The minute she said the words, she regretted them. The writing on Dobrila’s face told that she didn’t comprehend the humor. “He is a special man, Dobrila.” “I loved the sandcastle stories,” Dobrila said.” “We were young.” Anna smiled. Perhaps that was the joy of it all. Such innocents they were, two babies playing on the beach. Yet, there was strength there, for it seemed that no distance separated them from that place in time. “Oh, I have pictures of David and me in my bag. Would you like to see them?” Dobrila nodded. Anna rummaged through her bag and found the billfold with the photos in it. She pulled out a worn picture and handed it to Dobrila. She and David stood beside a sandcastle at age thirteen. Dobrila took the photo with care as if she were handling something very fragile. “Beautiful. Did love begin then?” “Umm?” Anna paused. Good question. “Perhaps then, perhaps earlier. We were close friends at eight.” “David listened to me describe my sorrows over losing my husband for hours. Sometimes, I thought he had fallen asleep but then in a few words, he made me see something different. He told me a phrase he heard once, to pity those who have no great anguish for they have never known great love. Something in me knew that was true. Relief floated over me. Then I asked him, did he know anguish.”

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“What did he say?” Anna asked. “He told me about you and your friendship as children.” It was reassuring to know that David had thought about her...that time had treated their friendship well. Yet, a gradual unease crept back into her thoughts of David and Marko. “Time for me to go, Dobrila. Might be back soon.” She hugged Dobrila before leaving the room. Staff rushed up and down the hallways treating the wounded. Adrenaline and sweat filled the air. A huge storm was brewing and this commotion was like the thunder in the distance. She bumped into Michael coming down the hallway. “What’s happening?” “Looks as if the Bosnians are about to become the aggressors. Reporters aren’t being allowed on the front lines, so the best source of news is here at the hospital. Looks like the Bosnian army is serious in breaking the Serbs’ hold on Sarajevo. All hell is breaking loose. One way or another, this thing is drawing to a close.” Tension had been building for days in Sarajevo. Anna had felt it and had been getting reports there was a falling out between NATO and the UN. NATO personnel were hinting that the UN had made a secret deal with the Serbs to stop air strikes in exchange for hostages. “Anna, I’d like to do a feature on you and David. The Brits back home would eat it up, all this childhood friendship and sandcastles.” “Marko is missing,” she said, tension filling her voice. “For how long?” “Since early this morning.” “That’s not long. The city is in chaos. Sniper Alley is like a pinball machine today.” “It’s not like him, Michael.” “Come on, let’s take a seat, maybe I can help.” Michael took her arm. They looked for a place to sit down but, in the normal sitting area, cots were being set up. They found a less crowded corridor

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and sat on the floor. “Marko was always taking chances. I have a bad feeling about it,” Anna said. “Look,” Michael said, “we’re all here by the grace of God. At any moment, any of us can become a victim.” “If it weren’t for me he wouldn’t be here.” “That’s not true! If he weren’t with you, he’d be with some other reporter. You’re not the center of all things. Not everything is within your control. Feel worried, but if you make yourself responsible for everything that happens in this country, you’ll go completely mad.” David was on the point of bitter, hysterics as he drove to the State Hospital. Ivica had managed to track down the Land Rover. The armor of the vehicle had been pierced by artillery. Ivica had made arrangements for Marko’s body. David grieved for Marko, his parents, and for Anna. Death was that way, he thought. We always want to say last words to a friend and seldom get the chance. A thief that breaks one’s heart. He went over in his mind what he would say to Anna. Many years ago, he had received a phone call at work from the brother of his best friend. He had no recollection of the conversation, only that it contained the confirmation that Brian was dead. He had just started the job and there was no one to tell. No one in the office knew him or Brian. After work that night, he drove straight to the airport, and boarded a plane to Chicago. By the time David walked into Dobrila’s hospital room, it was well after dark. Dobrila had exhausted herself talking, and Anna was falling asleep with a pen in her hand, no doubt working on the story she would send to the Trib the next day. As soon as she saw his face, Anna knew it was bad news. His eyes were vacant, shoulders slumped, and he walked much too slow. Her heart dropped into her stomach. “What is it?” He held a finger up to his lips. “Shh.” Grimly, he beckoned

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her to follow him out of the room. The squeak of the chair as she stood caused Dobrila to startle from her sleep, reaching out and speaking inaudible words. “Its okay, Dobrila,” Anna whispered, patting her hand and tucking the covers up to her chin. “Go back to sleep.” She followed David into the dark hallway. Taking her hand, he led her through the maze of cots where the wounded were waiting for rooms. “Come on. We need to talk.” The tired, defeated voice scared her. They reached the end of the hall and David opened the door to the stairwell, the only place they might get some peace. Pulling her into the stairwell and into his arms, he spoke. “So good to see you.” “What’s wrong? Did you find Marko? Where is he?” she asked, not really wanting to hear the answer she knew was coming. “He was killed sometime in the morning.” Anna’s body slump against his. He rocked her and stroked her hair. “I’m so sorry.” “No! He just went to get gas. People don’t die going to the gas station!” “They do here.” “I should’ve gone with him.” “There was nothing you could have done about it.” Anna sat on the stairs. The quietness contrasted with the screams of patients in pain and the harsh voices of overworked nurses. “Have you ever thought about death, David?” “Yes, especially the last two weeks.” “Sorry, I forgot. Was it hard?” “There are always ways of making it through.” “I don’t think about death. I don’t think Marko did, either. Who wakes up in the morning thinking ‘I might die today’” She paused, but he had nothing to add. “Do you know what he said to me this morning?” “What, baby?” “‘See you later.’ Those aren’t the words of a man ready to die. He expected to come back. One moment, he was alive, a

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living, breathing person. The next he isn’t. Is that the end of it?” David was silent. “I need to know, David. Don’t you ever think about things like that?” She didn’t wait for a reply. “How did he die?” He took a deep breath. “On his way back from filling the tank. As far as we can tell, the Rover was hit with an artillery shell; the vehicle rolled several times. When they found him, he was dead.” “Doesn’t feel like Marko is dead. Never coming back. Was death instant? Did he lie in pain until giving up?” Her mind jumped, from one thing to another. The first questions led to others and none of them had answers. She was attempting to make sense out of senselessness. David sighed and rubbed her back. “Anna, you need rest. When was the last time you’ve eaten?” “I had crackers at the hotel room this morning.” Tears lodged in her throat.

CHAPTER 28 David had become exhausted worrying about Anna. The night was long as Marko’s shadow fell on both of them. Anna awoke frequently from vague terrors and images of Marko lying dead next to her. He held her, whispering until she fell back asleep. His heart was torn, knowing Anna blamed herself for Marko’s death. The images of her tear-filled eyes haunted him. He wanted to take her home, to escape this dark place. Bosnia was a waking nightmare, oppressing them with leaden dread. Over the years they had shared both joy and misery, but this was their most trying time. We will get through it, somehow. Shadowy bits of light filtered through the curtains, promising a new day. Although he had barely slept three hours, he was determined to function for Anna. This was not the time for him to slip into soul-ripping depression. Living on raw emotion for the past couple of weeks, he needed to retreat from so much feeling. Pulling himself away from Anna, he leaned over, kissed her cheek, and whispered, “I love you, sweetheart.” Walking to the telephone, he called Tom’s extension. After three rings, a groggy voice answered. “Tom?” he muttered quietly. “Yes.” “Are you awake?” “Am now!” “Can you come to our room? Anna is still asleep and I need to go out, but I don’t want her to wake up alone. “Yeah, sure. Give me a few minutes and I’ll be over.” Hanging up the phone, David looked around the room. He

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picked up his clothes off the floor and dressed, then tidied up the dimly lit room. Putting their belongings in place gave structure to his cluttered mind. Finding Anna’s hairbrush, he headed to the washroom and brushed his hair. His image in the mirror seemed out of place, reflecting a fatigued man in need of a shave. He turned off the light. Not wanting Tom to knock and wake Anna up, he went out and waited in the hallway. Tom’s plodding approach brought the pungent odor of sweat and alcohol with it as the two men shook hands. “You look hung over,” David said. “I feel like a zombie.” “Sorry - - and I am sorry about Marko. I know he was your friend.” Nodding, Tom said, “Yeah, I’m ready to get out of here. I’ve had enough.” He was echoing David’s earlier thoughts. The pervading sense of grief had touched them all. This desperate need to escape was taking hold of them. Leaving Tom in the room, he began the mundane quest for food and coffee. He managed to purchase some fruit from a BBC journalist and added it to the tray of coffee and bread from the restaurant. David slipped back into the room as quietly as he could. Tom was asleep on the chair, snoring. So much for looking after Anna. Her back was toward him, but David could tell by the way her shoulders shook that she was crying. He put down the tray and went to the side of the bed. Kneeling beside her, he touched her face gently. She opened her eyes. “Shhhh,” she said, pointing to Tom. “Everything is going to be okay,” he whispered. “Nothing is going to be okay.” “Sorry, it hurts,” he said, brushing her hair back from her face tenderly. “Where did you go?” “To get us some breakfast.” “I was worried about you.”

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“Didn’t mean for you to worry.” “Why is Tom sleeping here?” “To keep you company in case you woke up.” “I wanted you to be here when I woke up.” “Thought you’d still be sleeping.” The snoring increased, and Anna laughed through tears. “Who could sleep through that?” she asked. David got up from his position on the floor. “Where are you going?” she asked, reaching for him. “To take care of him,” he said, pointing to Tom. “Let him rest,” Anna said. “He can rest in his own room.” David walked toward Tom, and shook his shoulder. His response was a deafening exhale of air. David shook him harder. “Uh? What’s the matter?” Tom asked, waking with a start. “You were supposed to be looking after Anna,” David said. “Damn! Did I fall asleep?” “Not only did you fall asleep, but we thought a train was coming through the building with your snoring,” Anna said. He noticed her red face. “Anna, why didn’t you wake me up?” “I don’t need a babysitter, Tom. Besides, you look like you need sleep more than I do. Why don’t you go back to your room and rest? It’s going to be another long day.” “Ah, I have overstayed my welcome,” Tom said, getting up from his chair and stumbling to the door. The door shut and David stared at Anna. “I’m sorry, baby,” he said. “Not looking forward to today,” she said, falling back onto her pillow. David walked toward her. Slipping off his shoes, he crawled into the bed, lying down beside her. For the first time, he noticed the lines of her face and wondered when they had first started to appear. He studied her for a long time without speaking, then bent down and kissed her on the nose.

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“Don’t ever leave without telling me,” she said, sadly. “Wanted you to sleep.” “ I don’t want to wake up and wonder what’s going on,” she said, turning toward him. The expression on her face was sad and beautiful. This was something more than the change of mood he had seen before. Something made him feel she saw beyond the moment. Her serenity was so sudden, unnerving him. Shyness rose in him in response to her unabashed honesty. He wanted to look away from her eyes, yet he was transfixed. “How did you know, Anna?” “What?” “How did you know how to find me? No one knew that I was here. Why did you put yourself in danger?” She thought about it for a moment, then answered his question with a question of her own. “When everything is stripped away, what’s left?” “What’s left? I guess that we’re here together.” “So what? We were two little kids building sandcastles once, now we are here. What happened back then that brought us to this point?” Memories flooded him. “We were friends, Anna.” She didn’t say a word, but her soft knowing expression pushed him to search within himself. There was something in their past, connecting them to this moment. If only he could find the words to express it. He remembered trying to build sandcastles alone on the beach. The task of building a castle alone wasn’t difficult. Sand was sand, whether they were together or apart. What differed was the motivation. He simply didn’t wish to be on the beach without her. When they built together he was satisfied. “Sometimes I have this urge to build a sandcastle with you, again.” Anna smiled. “Do you know why?” “Umm?” “Intimacy. We learned intimacy in the sounds of water and wind on the beach. They were gentle, bittersweet moments of

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child’s play. Intimacy is not something that just happens. When we built, we learned about a place here and here,” she touched his face and chest. “It’s a place in our hearts and minds.” Suddenly, she turned away, and sat bolt upright. He felt the mood change. “What’s the matter?” he asked, puzzled. “It’s time for me to get up and start my day.” Here words were as if nothing had transpired between them. “Anna, stay with me.” As she turned to face him, he saw her tears, again. “Come here hon,” he said, holding out his arms to her. Her body melted into his embrace. “I don’t want to be without you and just whispering to the moon every night. Just seeing you once in a while, hoping for some time together is not enough.” “We’ll always be together, Anna. Nothing is going to take our memories. Nothing is going to take that intimacy we found at the beach as children.” “I’m sorry, David. That wasn’t fair of me.” “Anna, it’s okay. Marko has made us all vulnerable.” “You know what?” “What?” “I have to work. Got to get going on one of the toughest stories of my life.” “And, I have to report to UN headquarters,” David said. They embraced once more. Lethargically, they both went about getting ready for their day, attempting to regain their balance. Anna sat down in front of the computer. David kissed her before leaving. Writing was the one refuge in which Anna could rebuild and try to make some sense of the world around her. Touching the keys of her computer, she wrote the story of a young man whose energy and actions had come to an abrupt end. His knowledge of the land, politics and language giving them security and confidence took form on her screen. Bravery reflected in paragraphs of how he had risked his life to rescue her from sniper fire. The written words poured out her sorrow and grief. Tears were streaming,

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but her distress eased as the tender story of Marko concluded. A final line from Shakespeare summed up her feelings for him. For he being dead, with him is beauty slain, And, beauty dead, black chaos comes again. Acts of self-sacrifice were frequently part of Anna’s writing. Stories live on. She wanted Marko to be remembered. David didn’t head straight to the UN headquarters. Instead, he had phoned Ivica to get an update on arrangements for Marko. Ivica told him that preparations had been made to send the body to Zagreb, where Marko had family. After David had expressed gratitude, Ivica suggested that they meet at a bar called Mon Cheri. The bar was on the ground floor of an apartment building that faced Sniper Alley. Mon Cheri was a sleek little place, with pink marble tables, black chairs, and mirrors gracing the walls. David had been a frequent visitor during his stay in Sarajevo. Arriving before Ivica, David sat in a secluded corner. He ordered a double whiskey and paid twelve German marks when the waiter brought it. Sipping it slowly, he reflected on his future with the UN. The organization, to his mind had become ineffective. His employer in the beginning had accomplished some splendid work, but later it had become paralyzed by politics. The UN had failed the people by promising safety it couldn’t deliver. Ivica entered the bar and David waved to him. The man’s cheerful face caused his own spirits to lift. As he watched Ivica’s approach, he could not help thinking about the garden and the ponds in which the man took so much pride. “David, always a pleasure,” Ivica said, joining him at the table. “Just thinking of your gardens,” David said. “That’s what I like about you. A face, a sound, a word evokes something in you, doesn’t it?” “Doesn’t it with everyone?” “No, my friend it does not.” Ivica waved at the waiter. “Tell me, David, what images do you have? What did you feel in my garden?”

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“It’s a refuge of sorts, with the paths and the bridge over a stream, the arched trellis work.” “You know, the garden is part of me, part of my mind, who I truly wish to be. But it was necessary for my survival to become a ruthless and uncompromising businessman. The world is not black and white. Destructive forces have challenged my love for my people and this country. Given different circumstances, I could have made a contribution by making this a nation of gardens, where differences could have been celebrated rather than feared and fought over.” David listened attentively, with respect for the man. Whether it was the words or the whiskey that colored his perception didn’t matter. What mattered were the heartfelt ideas and longings the man needed to express. “What did you accomplish here?” Ivica asked. “Very little,” he admitted. “Ah, that makes me sad. What brought you here?” “Not sure, anymore. Maybe, I just fell into it. My first job took me to Africa. There was a need for people who had an expertise in developing sources of uncontaminated water. One day while reading about the drought that was threatening thousands, I looked at my life and thought, something needs to be done but by whom? Life was too comfortable sitting in a cozy apartment reading my newspaper. I decided to be part of some useful venture rather than just thinking about it.” “So, your action brought you here.” “Yes.” “Do you regret those actions?” “No, my regret is that a man has died in seeking my release.” “There it is. That is it. So, another man acted on his own motives. Action implies all sorts of risks. Get over it, David. It is very selfish and self-centered of you to think you are responsible. Marko died because of his need to act. He didn’t sit in a cozy apartment in Zagreb and read the newspaper.”

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CHAPTER 29 David and Anna waited in a room reserved for UN personnel and press representatives at the Sarajevo airport. The airport had had no flights since the Serbs successfully shut down air traffic two weeks prior. “Ivica has accomplished the impossible by arranging to get us out,” David said. “You think it’s Ivica’s doing?” Anna asked. “I know it is. Only he could arrange a convoy on such short notice. Nobody else would receive the type of cooperation needed to make this happen. He found a way for us to take Marko home. Payments have been made and favors exchanged.” “Why did he do it?” Anna asked. “Oh, I think there’s some profit in it for him. Depending on whom you talk to, he’s a gangster, politician, or businessman. But, he’s also my friend. I trust him.” The room started to fill up for a press briefing. A meeting was to follow between the Bosnian government, the Bosnian Serbs and the UN, to negotiate the restoration of utilities for Sarajevo. David recognized Philip Cornell, the UN’s chief political officer for Sarajevo, walking toward them. He stood up as Cornell reached out his hand. They shook hands as photographers took pictures. “Do you have a moment?” Cornell asked. “Sure,” David said. “Let’s move to a more private area, then.” “Anna is joining me.” “I prefer she didn’t.”

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“It’s okay, I’m fine here,” Anna said. “You’re with me,” David said. “ It’s just that Mr. Cornell would like our conversation to be off the record. Can it be, Anna?” “Sure.” Cornell led Anna and David to a smaller room. The three of them sat down as an aide closed the door, shutting out the noise and commotion from the briefing room. “I’m sorry your stay in Sarajevo was so short, Ms. McBride. Your reporting was brilliant, in my opinion. We need more reporters like you here,” Cornell said. “David, we’re all relieved that you made it through your ordeal. When you get to Zagreb, we hope that you can shed some light on your detention.” “If you think it can help,” David replied. “It will. I know the aid workers here are driven to relieve human suffering, but they are often manipulated by ambitious politicians and exploited by gangsters.” “We each have our own role,” David said, shrugging. “Respect for what the UN does is in short supply. Our hands get a bit dirty working in the trenches day after day. I used my best judgment, doing what had to be done.” “We know the difficulties,” Cornell said, patting David’s shoulder. “Difficulties? We’re not talking about the same thing.” “Maybe not, but than again, maybe more than you realize. More than I can tell you right now. The peace built here won’t be perfect, but it will stop the killing and the abuses we see today. In order to achieve peace we have to deal with the devil. Is it right or is it wrong? I have no idea. If it stops the killing, then perhaps it’s worth it.” “Let’s hope so,” Anna said. A convoy of several UN trucks parked in front of the airport in preparation for a ninety-mile journey to Split. In the middle of the convoy, two unmarked trucks took their positions, one of which carried Marko’s lifeless body. Anna and David climbed into the back of an armored Land Rover while two peacekeepers sat in

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the front. David chatted with the peacekeepers while Anna drifted in and out of restless sleep. Twisting through the mountains, the convoy climbed high enough for them to capture views of a long narrow valley below. The sun blazed on one side of the valley peaks while the other side stood in the shadows. Mountaintops took on a purple hue as the sun set. David’s grip on Anna’s hand became painful. Feeling his tension in the pain that shot up her arm as they climbed higher into the mountains, she pried her hand free and interlocked arms with him. For a while she placed her head on his shoulder but that, too, was uncomfortable, his bony shoulder reacting to every bump on the road. She was tired, thirsty and grumpy. “Are you, okay?” David asked, sensing her discomfort. She mustered her best fake smile, and nodded. But she dreamed about her apartment in Chicago, familiar surroundings and long, hot showers. Anna looked at her watch. They had been on the road for three hours, traveling at an average speed of just under twenty miles per hour. Each military or UN checkpoint took at least twenty minutes to clear. “How much longer?” she asked. “About four hours,” David said. “Ugh. Tell me a story,” she said. “What kind of story?” “Something about us.” “I remember when my friendship turned to love,” David said. “Tell me.” “Remember the sandcastle contest when we were thirteen? Just as we completed the castle, it was hit by a Frisbee.” “Oh, I was so mad. But we got it done. ” “Yes, and we took off before the judges viewed it. We headed down the path that led to the old mill. I remember that a brick fence surrounded it, with one big oak tree in the middle. That area was always quiet, and far enough away to muffle the clamor from the beach. You climbed up on the fence and stood surveying the area. A band played one of your favorite songs. You held your

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hand up to your mouth like a microphone and started singing along. I laughed uncontrollably as you sang.” “ I love making you laugh.” “Then I asked if you could dance too. You jumped off the fence and said, ‘If you dance with me.’ So, taking you by the hand, we danced under the trees, lost in the moment. This feeling of comfort and love grew in me. I wanted to kiss you, but was too shy.” As he reminisced, the journey became easier. Stiff from their road trip, they arrived at the airport in the evening and boarded the plane for Zagreb. On arrival in Zagreb, they found no one waiting from Marko’s family. “Have you got the phone number for the Simenics?” David asked. “Yes.” “Okay. Can you phone them while I find Marko?” “David! What am I supposed to say? Hey, we’re at the airport. Come pick up your son’s body? His parents don’t speak English.” “Sorry, I’m tired and not thinking too clearly at the moment. Let’s stick together and see what we can find out.” Anna turned, bumping into a young man, who she almost knocked over. “I am so sorry,” she said, sputtering. “Are you Anna?” Anna knew then. His dark hair and eyes resembled Marko’s. “Zdravo, zovem se Anna. Prijatelj od Marko, ” she said, stuttering in Croatian. “We have been expecting you. My name is Mladen Simenic, a brother to Marko.” “Mladen, this is David. I… we… are sorry for your loss,” Anna said. Mladen looked puzzled. “Lost?” “It’s an expression about the death of your brother,” David said. Mladen’s eyes softened with a hint of tears. “Ah, yes, I understand now. Lost. We all feel lost with no Marko. We appreciate

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sharing him with you.” Anna hugged Mladen, feeling the essence of Marko within him. A lump was forming in her throat. She choked it back, swallowing hard. Mladen led them to a group of people. Brief introductions were made with handshakes and nods. Anna had difficulty understanding the words, but she recognized the intimacy of sorrow. David and Anna found a seat while Mladen and his family dealt with the airport officials. They stayed still just watching the jets moving outside the hot and muggy airport.

The experience visiting different cultures taught him value and respect of ceremony. Ritual was of supreme importance and all cultures had a ritual for healing. Healing for all of us, David hoped. The apartments that stood before him were three-story units. Checking the directions and the address, he confirmed that it was the place. The building was old, but in good condition. Knowing how to find it made him feel better. David headed back to the hotel. When he got back, Anna was sleeping soundly. He lay down beside her and soon was asleep as well.

By the time Mladen dropped them off at their hotel, it was after midnight. Walking to the entrance, apprehension crept through David. His thought of a sniper taking aim was hard to shake after spending years in Sarajevo. He walked up behind Anna and put his hand on her shoulder. “You okay, hon?” he asked. “Sure,” she smiled at him. “Let’s get our room.” David had chosen the Hotel Astoria for their stay. The Astoria wasn’t centrally located, but it was only a couple of blocks away from the Simenics. Less then five minutes after entering the room, David had an urge to leave. “Do you mind if I go for a walk?” he asked. “How long will you be?” “Maybe an hour. Just want to get an idea where to go tomorrow.” “Try not to be longer.” “I won’t,” David said, leaning over and kissing her.

Awakening in the dark, Anna saw a figure standing over her. She had no idea where she was and inhaled sharply to scream when she recognized David. Anna reached over to the bed stand and grabbed her watch off the table. “Wow, it’s seven already?” David opened the drapes and the room was filled with the light. Anna could hear the world bustling awake. She went to the window and looked down. The boulevard was bristling with bicycles and cars, workers and school children. “Why didn’t you wake me?” she asked. “We needed the sleep,” David said. “Now I’m starving. We don’t have to be at the Simenics until one, so could we grab something to eat, then go exploring?” In twenty minutes, they were out on the sidewalk. Everything seemed different from the night before. The city was vibrant with color as they strolled through a market alive with the scent of fresh fruits and vegetables. The odor of fresh peppers mixed with oranges and melon made Anna’s mouth water. Finding a quaint sidewalk café, they enjoyed a relaxed breakfast and then spent the rest of the morning at the botanical gardens. The plants, landscaping and pathways seemed far away from the bustling Zagreb. After their visit to the gardens, they made their way towards the Simenics’ apartment. Climbing two flights of stairs, they located 213. The door was partially open and they could hear low voices

David thought he might find a late night bar and get a feel for the city. In previous trips he had spent most of his time in hotels and conference rooms. Walking through centuries old architecture gave him relief. The tension eased and so did his need to find a bar. His quest now was to find the apartment where they would meet prior to the funeral. There was a sense of something left undone.

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spilling out from the apartment. They knocked softly. “Anna, David, so nice to see you,” Mladen said. “Come in and meet our mother.” A woman walked into the room and silence fell over the group. Anna guessed her to be about fifty. Her long hair was tied in the back; wisps of grey mingled with jet-black bangs fell into her face. There was deep sadness etched around her eyes. Suddenly, a toddler raced across the room, begging to be picked up. The sadness that shrouded her face lifted as she raised the child into the air and swung her around. “Moje dijete.” She smiled at the child as she raised her high. The child giggled with delight as Marko’s mother flew her airplane style into Mladen’s waiting arms.

CHAPTER 30 Anna talked to her editor on the phone from the Zagreb hotel room. Hearing Paul’s voice gave her a sense of relief. “Your articles on Dobrila have had fantastic response,” Paul said. “There have been offers for sponsorship for Dobrila and her family. We really need to decide how to coordinate that. Perhaps you can set it up. When are you coming home?” “I don’t know.” “What do you mean, you don’t know?” “There is David.” “How’s David doing?” Paul asked. “Not so well. He’s been through two full days of debriefing at the UN office here. They are more interested in what they can get on the Serbs than in helping him.” “Just get him back here to Chicago. Screw the UN. I know people who can help him. Listen, he can’t go back in time and change things, but he can change the feelings and thoughts surrounding his imprisonment.” “Yes, he needs that, but there is a more immediate need at the moment.” “What’s that?” “He needs a few days to decompress. From the time we left the Serbian compound until now, he hasn’t stopped.” “Sounds like you should slow down as well. Take a few days, use some vacation time. You’ve done great work, Anna. I’m proud of you.” Paul’s words brought tears to her eyes. He could be critical of her, scathing at times, but she always knew he was on her side.

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“Thanks, I’ll take you up on the vacation. I want you to know that I couldn’t have done this without you and Rudy. I appreciate it.” “Stop, stop you’re making me blush,” Paul said. “Oh, I don’t believe that.” “I blush inside.” Anna laughed. “Is Rudy around? I’d like to speak to him.” “Sure, I’ll see.” As Paul put her on hold, music came over the receiver. She closed her eyes and slipped into the recliner to wait for Rudy. “Rudy here.” “It’s Anna.” “Anna, come home. I miss you, darlin’.” “Soon, Rudy, soon.” “What can I do for you?” he asked. “Absolutely nothing, I just wanted to talk to you.” “Oh?” “Oh,” Anna laughed. “Is that all you can say? That’s not like you.” “I’m thunderstruck. I don’t think we have ever talked unless you were asking for something.” “Yeah, I know. Don’t worry, I won’t talk to you again unless I want something,” she laughed. “But I want you to know that in my last story I wrote about you.” “You did? I hope you said good things.” “I did.” “Did you say I was handsome and available?” “Nope, but I said your work was crucial to this Bosnia series, and that you were the best.” “Hmm, that may help me somewhat with the ladies.” “I hope so. Hey, Rudy.” “What?” “Thank you.” After she hung up the phone, Anna made some arrangements, then went to the park for a walk. She sat against a rock and relaxed

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in the cool breeze. The branches of the oaks rustled and swayed in the wind. When they were kids twelve or thirteen years of age, Anna and David had sat on a beach and discussed what they were going to be. She could see David hugging his knees and smiling. He was going to be an architect and design new and wonderful structures. She wanted to be a writer, but didn’t like to talk too much about it. Eventually he had coaxed her to talk more about her ambitions. She never truly believed it was possible, but David did. The park overlooked the boulevard. She picked a place where she could spot David returning to the hotel. The evening before he had stopped at the terrace bar before returning to their hotel room. She wanted to give him a gentle nudge past the pub if she could. As kids, they had taken turns being strong during life’s difficulties. It was her turn to be strong. She had a gut instinct about what he needed. Anna spotted David as he left the tram. She headed toward the boulevard to intercept him. He walked hunched over, his head down as if he was looking for money on the sidewalk. “David,” she called. He paused for a moment then continued walking. She picked up her pace to catch up with him. “David!” He turned around, his haggard face searching for the voice. Recognition set in and an expression of relief seemed to pass over him. He walked toward her with a half grin. “It’s so good to see you,” he said. They hugged and he rocked her back and forth. “I want to go home,” he whispered. “Where is home?” “I don’t know,” he replied, then slumped putting his full weight on her. With effort, she pulled back from him, reached up, and touched his tear-streaked face. ‘It’s okay, everything is okay,” she said. “I don’t want to go back there.”

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Anna pulled two tickets from her purse. “Your bags are packed, we have train tickets to take us to France on a sleeper car.” The sleeper compartment contained upper and lower berths, a full sized couch, washstand, linens, and towels. David wondered what the first class accommodations had cost Anna. Being on a train at night was a whole new feeling. It was tiny and compressed space, but it was pure luxury to him. He felt himself letting go as he felt the train speed through the darkness. He stretched out in the bunk, lulled by the train’s motion and the moonlit view from the window. Anna sat with her nose to the window, watching the silent world passing by. “This is beautiful,” she said. “You pulled it off, hon.” Anna smiled and squeezed in beside him. “Is this comfortable for you?” “Very,” he replied. “Tell me something.” “Like what?” “What are your plans, David?” “I don’t know.” “Are you going to go back to work for the UN?” “I don’t know.” She was silent. “Do I have to know?” he asked. She smiled, not knowing what to say. She wanted him to return to Chicago with her. “Do I have to know?” David asked again. “I think we should just take it one day at a time and enjoy the fact that we’re together.” “I’ll always be with you.” “I know.” Anna slipped out of the berth and pressed her face once more against the window as they sped over bridges. Out of habit, she looked at the moon, and whispered, “I love you, David.” “What?” he asked.

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“Oh, just sending messages to the moon,” she said, pointing out the window. “You still do that?” “Of course. Didn’t you get any of my messages?” “I did,” he said smiling, “Did you get my messages?” “What did the messages say?” “They said, ‘Wherever you are in the world, I remember you.’” Anna reached out to him. He smiled faintly as she took his hand and pulled him up into her arms. She lightly ran her fingers over him. His hands followed, tracing upon her body, trailing his fingers up her arms and lightly over her breasts until he reached the curve of her neck. They looked into each other’s eyes. Then, instinctively they kissed softly. His lips parted as her tongue slipped into his mouth. Their lips ground together as a hunger built aggressively. David leaned down and kissed her neck. Anna’s head fell back as she felt his lips caressing her throat. His lips moved down, kissing her collarbone and shoulder blade, caressing her so gently that her skin tingled. She kissed him as his eyes closed, feeling her closeness to him, in her heart. Anna woke and David was not beside her. In the shadows she could make him out sitting in a chair. His body slumped and his head was in his hands. “David?” she whispered. “Did I wake you?” he asked. “Never mind that. Is something wrong?” “No, not really. I am excited and can’t sleep. There are decisions I have to make. A month ago I knew what I was doing and where I was going. It’s all changed now.” “Are you scared?” He laughed. “Scared a bit, but excited, too. I stayed in Bosnia longer then I should have. But I just didn’t want to pack up and leave when things were bad. I had the idea peace was just around the corner. Months passed, then a year, then another.” “Why do you do it?”

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“Why did you report on the L.A. riots or on the Gulf? Why do you report on misery?” “Those are big questions.” “But do you know?” “I know best when I actually do the writing. There are voices being ignored. At first I’m just after a story. But then something happens. People become real. They touch my life. I scribble down the story and I want to get it out there and have it touch other people’s lives like it touched me. I want to believe that what I write moves people to think differently about the world, maybe even to do something that can help.” “I liked the feeling of getting people food and shelter. It’s frightening at times. But I truly believed in what I was doing. Now this feeling of ‘what next’ has got its grip on me.” “You don’t have to figure it all out at once.” “I’m AWOL from the UN right now.” “You were kidnapped by a deranged reporter.” David laughed. “You’re a beautiful reporter.” “Like I said, a beautiful, mysterious, deranged reporter.” “My favorite kind.”

EPILOGUE David strolled down Michigan Avenue. The cool Chicago breeze was a refreshing contrast from the six months in the stifling heat of Iraq. Five years had passed since he stood at the steps of the Tribune Building where he was to meet Anna. As he stared up at the towers of the great building, drum beats floated through the air. Intrigued, he followed the tribal symphony, and found himself in the middle of a crowd assembled on the bridge. Four kids using garbage bins as drums entertained passersby, pounding cadence that ranged from thunder to intense rhythm. The street kids’ drum sonata was as inspiring to him as Beethoven’s Ode to Joy. Closing his eyes, his body swaying to of the machine gun beat, he danced among the crowd on the bridge. “Whatcha din?” An unsteady voice broke through his private rhapsody. He opened his eyes to see a wino standing in front of him. “I’m dancing,” David answered. Swaying and clutching his precious bottle, the man put his head on David’s shoulder. The smell of sweat, dirt and alcohol brought a flashback of Sarajevo. He stepped back from the man in surprise. “Sorry, I have to go,” David said, patting the man on the back. “That’s okay. Me too. You take care buddy,” the man said. “I will,” he said. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a five-dollar bill, placing it in the man’s dirty hand. “You’re a good gent,” he said. Clutching the money to his chest, he weaved past David to continue his journey along North

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Michigan Avenue. “He’s not your type.” Turning, Anna was there. “I know. If he drank JD, I’d take him back to your house for the barbecue,” David said. “That’s what I’m afraid of,” she said, reaching up to embrace him. “I heard from Tom, he’ll be flying in from Toronto later in the evening. Paul has a board meeting after work. So, dinner will start with Rudy, Dobrila, her kids and us. Hopefully, Tom and Paul will join us later.” Each year, the makeshift family got together on the anniversary of Marko’s death. No matter where David was in the world, he managed to make this pilgrimage. The occasion was extremely important to Anna and him. During one of these events a friendship began to blossom between Rudy and Dobrila. David felt very protective of Dobrila and he didn’t like Rudy’s attentions toward her. At first he was suspicious of those intentions. Dobrila’s priorities were to help her children adjust to a new language and culture while establishing a career for herself. David had appointed himself to help Dobrila and her children, even managing to obtain their immigration status for the States. As he got to know Rudy, he began to accept the courtship “We need to get groceries,” Anna said. David nodded as she took his hand and led him to the store. He felt the wind pushing them down streets and thought of the unseen hands that had shaped their lives. David’s pager vibrated just as he lit the barbecue. He glanced through the sliding glass door of Anna’s town home to see if she was looking his way. They had promised each other that during this visit neither one of them would answer any pagers or phones. Once he saw she was busy in the kitchen, he reached down to his belt and unhooked the pager, reading the e-mail, which outlined an outbreak of sickness in Iraq. Drinking water was blamed. According to the symptoms of the outbreak, the most likely source was an organism that came from infected fecal matter. Thus they

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had emailed him, the expert of crap, for advice. David heard the sliding glass door open, and quickly returned the pager to his belt before turning around to Anna. She stood there with a big smile and tray of burgers and chicken for him to cook on the grill. “Did you read the Tribune today?” she asked, setting the tray on a table. “Afraid not.” She handed him the newspaper. He found her article on the front page, and read aloud: “Serbian Colonel Indicted for War Crimes By Anna McBride In June 1995 David Warren spent twenty days living in a Serbian cell, suffering beatings and interrogations. After nearly five years, the UN worker’s illegal confinement has led to an indictment for war crimes against Bosnian Serb Colonel Rajko Eric.” “Do you think anyone is still interested?” David asked. “People are interested in justice,” Anna said. “I sort of feel bad for him.” “Why?” “There were terrifying moments back then. I still have nightmares about holding that grenade. But there’s more to it. I felt grateful to him for removing the grenade from my hand. In that moment I truly loved, even worshipped that man.” “That’s the Stockholm Syndrome.” “Well, yeah, perhaps.” “Better get going on the barbecue, guests will be arriving soon,” Anna said, heading into the house to answer the phone. David used the tongs to place the food onto the grill. In a flash, the smell of chicken, ribs and burgers filled the air. Sipping his beer, he looked out onto Lake Michigan. The weather was perfect for their barbecue, with blue skies marbled with wisps of white. He’d never lived the usual day-to-day existence that most people did. He was comfortable with Anna, and sometimes that

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comfort turned to fear. His fear would come when contemplating leaving her warmth to return to his job. They had to make every moment count when together. David wanted both Anna and the UN. Despite the frustration, despite the bureaucracy, despite the bullshit and the violence, he desperately loved his job. And if he hadn’t continued to work for the UN, he would have found some other like-minded organization to work for. Whether it was good, bad or indifferent, he was motivated to be his best when he felt needed. Each day was a good day when he lived every moment like it counted. The job terrified him from time to time and there were lots of obstructions to work through. But he just couldn’t live in the suburbs, watching Sunday afternoon football with the boys. Nor would Anna have put up with that. She had an exciting, meaningful job so she understood his need for work, and the travel that took him from crisis to crisis. Dobrila and Rudy stepped into the backyard. David put his tongs down and went to the door, slipping his arms around Dobrila in a big hug. “Nice to see you,” David said. “Nice to see you, too,” Dobrila said. “I’ve missed you.” “Hey, what about me?” Rudy asked. David removed himself from Dobrila and enveloped Rudy in a bear hug. “Okay, okay, that’s enough,” Rudy said, pretending to struggle for breath. “I think you cracked a rib.” “You wimp.” David punched him playfully in the arm. “Are you ready for the big day.” “I think so.” “It’s time you made an honest man of him, Dobrila,” David said. “Way past time, if you ask me.” “Hmm, I can’t remembering asking you,” Rudy said. “Where are the kids?” David asked “In the house with Anna,” Dobrila said. “So, Rudy, what do you know about teenagers?”

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“That I was one once.” “He is wonderful with them,” Dobrila said. “I would never have dreamed that life would include my Rudy.” Anna came out of the house with a plate of buns, followed by Mitar and Dana, each carrying a plate of salads. Anna sniffed the air a few times. “David, is something burning?” she asked. “Never you mind. Just take care of your job and let me worry about the barbecue,” he said, winking. She walked over to him and gave him a hug from behind. Anna knew they would never live together for any length of time, and she was beginning to accept that. Bringing David home to live with her would be like taking a falcon out of the sky and chaining him to a perch. Making him stay in one place would change him. The David she knew and loved would cease to exist. The reality of their situation had taken years to come to terms with, but she understood it, now. She reached over to him as he was turning the chicken on the grill, and kissed him on the back of the neck. He turned, smiling. “What was that for?” “Because I love you the way you are,” she answered. Anna sat at the table with her two young guests. She noticed Dana’s violet eyes sparkled as she watched her mother and Rudy chat. Mitar, however, as usual, was more reserved and quiet. Her opportunities to get to know the kids came when Rudy and Dobrila took a vacation together. Dana would have been too young to remember her father but Mitar still had some deep feelings for his dad. Mitar had told her that he liked Rudy, but the upcoming marriage made him sad about their father. Having faith in Rudy and Dobrila, she knew that it would work out. Whatever they had to face, they would meet the challenge. After David had brought the food to the table, it was heaped with barbecue, cheeses, breads and salads. People helped themselves. David changed the CD on the portable stereo to play Beethoven while they enjoyed their dinner.

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Just as they were finishing, Anna saw Tom come around from the side of her house. She left the table and ran to him. She jumped into his wide arms and he lifted her up off her feet and swung her around. “I am so glad you made it,” Anna said, bursting into tears. “Oh, I can see that,” Tom said, wiping her eyes. “Never mind, it’s just me being the happy Mama as her family gathers.” She led Tom back to the table where he hugged Dobrila and shook hands with David and Rudy. A while later, Paul arrived, and Anna managed to stay composed. After all, she saw Paul at the office each day and would continue to see him for as long as the board of directors kept him on as editor. As they sat and chatted, Anna cleared her throat. “Now that I have you all here just where I want you, I have a few words to say.” “A few?” Rudy said. “Be quiet, you,” Anna said, laughing. “It’s hard enough as is. You guys, each and every one of you, are my family. You live in my heart each and every day. Paul, here, gave me the best job in the world and for the most part has left me alone to do as I see fit.” “What choice do I have?” Paul asked. “None, now shush,” Anna said, then smiled. “And then there is Rudy who during my worst days can make me laugh. He has guided me around the world and has brought me home each time. Dobrila, Mitar, and Dana will forever be part of my life even though Rudy is attempting to steal you away. They are just on loan, Rudy. The kids are mine, every other weekend. And of course David and I go back along way to the sandcastles of Lamure Beach. We have known each other for over thirty years and are sure to be best friends for another forty. I love you all. Now, to a man who we knew only a short time, but who lives on in our hearts. Marko! Reworking some lines from Shakespeare, I wish to conclude with these words.”

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Looking down the table, Anna cleared her throat. “For his sweet life lost, we remember Marko. Our journey through life has been enriched in having known him.”

ABOUT THE AUTHORS SUSAN TRACY delights in the passionate poetry of Bruce Springsteen. There is rarely a quiet moment in her truck, as rock music blares from the stereo. When she rolls down the window, all of Southern Oklahoma shares in her love for music. A storyteller by nature, she practices the art of writing by developing characters that become part of her life. BOB PAUL is an obsessive-compulsive who can’t sit still. Despite his need for constant movement, he manages to bang out five hundred words per night. Appreciating literature and historical research, he pours over coffee stained manuscripts. Whether you buy this book or not, his need for security will never allow him to give up his day job. He lives in Kitchener, Ontario.

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