"You mean intervention by NATO."
"It really isn't any different. If NATO gets involved so will we, either with air strikes or sending ground forces. The Europeans will dither and argue and stall until things really get bad. They hate the idea of contributing troops and if they do, they'll put such stringent rules of engagement on them that they'll be worse than useless."
"They're not the only ones that do that," Stephanie said. "Look at the rules we put on our people in Afghanistan and Iraq. The politicians have crippled their ability to carry out the mission. All because politically correct people think war should be clean and polite and we shouldn't offend anyone. There's never been a war that was polite. No wonder we can't win."
"Better hadn't let anyone from the media hear you say that. They'll crucify you."
"I'm not the only one who thinks it's stupid to fight a war with one hand tied behind your back."
"No, you're not."
They watched the convoys streaming toward the border.
"Where do you think Nick should start?" Stephanie asked.
"That's a good question. I'm not sure. The convoys are headed toward the main crossing checkpoint near that big lake on the border. It's on the only decent highway between the two countries. If I were a terrorist, I wouldn't go anywhere near there."
"You want them to go look for terrorists?"
"Not exactly," Elizabeth said. "I doubt they'd find them. All I'm interested in is trying to confirm their involvement in the bombing."
"Nick and the others can't cover the entire border."
"They don't need to, they just need to talk to some people."
Elizabeth studied the monitor and pointed.
"That city close to Albania, the one on the western side near that smaller lake. What's it called?"
Stephanie entered a search on her laptop. "Debar. It says here that the population is almost completely Albanian, even though the city is in Macedonia."
"That sounds like a good bet."
"Does Selena speak the local language?"
"I don't know," Elizabeth said. "Let's ask her."
She made the connection to Macedonia. Nick answered.
"Yes, Director."
"Nick, I'm going to send you to the western part of the country. Ask Selena if she speaks Albanian."
"She's right here." Nick handed her his encrypted satellite phone.
"Elizabeth."
"Selena, do you speak Albanian?"
"Which dialect? There are two main ones. I speak some Tosk. That's the most common one. The other is Geg, but I only know a few words."
"As long as you speak one, that's what counts. You might want to brush up on it."
"Are you sending us to Albania?"
"No, but I'm sending you to a part of Macedonia that might as well be in Albania. Put Nick back on the phone."
Selena handed the phone back to Nick.
Elizabeth said, "You're going to a city called Debar in the western part of the country. It's a hotbed of Albanian anti-government activity. Find a hotel for a couple of days. Talk to people. Find out what you can about this group that is supposed to have set off the bomb. Use your cover as reporters. Since Selena speaks the language, it shouldn't be too hard to convince people to open up a little. Everyone likes to give their opinions. Your cover fits with the increased border tension. It gives you a good reason for being there."
"Does Langley have anything?"
"No. That's another reason why it's suspicious. No one wants another Bosnian war and CIA has been monitoring everything in that region for some time. There hasn't been a hint of the Albanian National Front planning something like this."
"Copy that, Director. Anything else?"
"That's it for now. Keep me informed."
Elizabeth broke the connection.
Stephanie said, "If they find anything out, it could be dangerous."
"It's possible."
"You do remember that they don't have weapons?"
"Then we'd better hope they don't need them."
CHAPTER 12
The drive through the heart of Macedonia was scenic and coldly beautiful. The road from Skopje was modern and wide. They drove their rented VW west to Tetovo and south to Gostivar, past Kicevo, then west again to Drugovo, names that spoke of the Slavic heritage of the country. From Drugovo, a secondary highway led to Debar.
Western Macedonia was a land of mountains, lakes, rivers and wide valleys, scenery straight out of a 19th-century landscape painting. In warm weather the forested slopes would be green, the roads lined with orchards and crops. Now winter had set in and everything was coated with white. Black outcrops of rock broke through the snow, hinting at the essential hardness of the ancient land. The temperature outside hovered below freezing. The air felt raw and wet.
"Reminds me of survival training," said Ronnie. "I'm glad I'm not running around out there with all my gear."
"Not exactly Hawaiian shirt weather," Lamont said.
Twice they pulled over to make way for a military convoy of covered trucks hauling troops and equipment.
"We should be coming into Debar soon," Selena said.
"Not soon enough for me." Nick yawned. "We'll need a hotel."
"I already made a reservation. We're staying at a hotel right in the middle of town."
"I hope they've got a restaurant," Lamont said.
They reached the hotel after dark. From the outside it looked modern and fairly new. Streetlamps marched along the façade, throwing light over a row of snow coated evergreens across from the entrance.
The lobby was deserted except for the desk clerk. He looked bored. He took their passports and handed them their keys.
"The restaurant will be closing in an hour. If you are hungry, the food is good here."
"Thank you," Selena said.
The clerk watched them head for their rooms. When they were gone he picked up his phone and dialed.
"Yes."
"Tell Josef a group of reporters has arrived."
"Let us know when they leave the hotel."
The clerk hung up.
In the hall outside their rooms Nick said, "Let's meet in the restaurant in ten minutes."
"Man, I'm hungry." Lamont rubbed his stomach. "I could eat a horse."
"Might be what they've got," Ronnie said.
Nick looked at them and shook his head. "See you down there."
The hotel room was large and clean. The walls, doors and closets were white. The floor was polished, dark wood. There was no carpeting. The lighting was subdued. No one staying here would think they were in a hotel in America.
"I don't like the way that clerk looked at us," Selena said.
"What way?"
"He had a sneaky look," she said. "Like he was saying one thing and thinking another."
"All he did was give us our keys and take our passports."
"He was looking at our press passes."
They were still wearing press credentials on their jackets.
"So?"
"How come he didn't ask us what we were doing here? Or who we worked for? It can't be every day they get reporters staying here."
"Maybe he didn't want to be nosy."
"I don't believe it. It would've been natural to ask us, especially with the situation the way it is. Albania is right across the border and most of the people living here are of Albanian descent. If a war starts, this city will be on the front line. It will be an uncomfortable place to live. If I were him, I would have asked us if we knew anything about what was happening."
Nick set his carry-on down on the bed and opened it up.
"It could be that he doesn't like foreigners. They can't get many Americans here. This place is really off the beaten track."
"I suppose so. All the same, I wish we had our weapons with us."