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“Okay. We love you and miss you so much.”

“Love you too. Tell Mommy I love her. Bye.”

“Bye, Ellen, see you soon.”

“Diane!” Kevin yelled, and ran into their bedroom, turning on the light. “Ellen just called!”

Diane sat upright in bed. Kevin repeated every word Ellen had said.

“Oh, God,” Diane said. “I wish I could hear her voice. How did she sound?”

“Good. She wasn’t crying or anything. She sounded like her usual self, but a little scared. She sounded sure she would be coming home next week. And she said to tell you that she loved you.”

“Do you really think they’ll let her go after the trial?”

“I hope so.”

Diane immediately called Detective Weber’s office with the news. The night dispatcher paged Detective Weber. A few minutes later the detective called. Kevin related what Ellen had said and the license number.

“We’ll run this license plate right away,” Detective Weber said. “We just got some other leads last night as well. I was going to call you this morning. We found some fingerprints on the envelope with Ellen’s second letter. They come back to a Johan Oosten from Amsterdam. He’s a Dutch male, about 25 years old, who has no criminal record. We contacted the Amsterdam police. Their files show that he’s been a member of a socialist, left-wing student group, sympathetic to unpopular causes like the Serbs.”

“Wow!” Kevin exclaimed. “That’s a great lead.”

“We had people looking for him last night in Amsterdam. He hasn’t been seen since the day Ellen was kidnapped. He told his mother he would be gone for awhile on a job, but didn’t say where he was going.”

“Sounds promising.”

“There’s more,” Detective Weber said. “We got a court order to wiretap Vacinovic’s phone. After your meeting last night he called your old friend Mihajlo Golic in Serbia. They’re behind this whole thing. They hired Oosten and some other Dutch radicals to do the kidnapping.”

Diane had been right all along! She now stood by the phone with a quizzical expression on her face.

“I’d like to strangle that pot-bellied pig, Vacinovic” Kevin said between clenched teeth.

When he hung up the phone, Kevin told Diane everything. She overcame whatever temptation she had to get into I-told-you-so recriminations.

“I’ve had my hopes up so high before,” she said, surprisingly calm. “I’m almost afraid to let them get up again.”

“I know. The police work is out of our control. Let’s go downstairs and work on Draga’s trial. That’s something we can do.”

Diane made some coffee and Kevin got out his papers. It was just before 4 a.m. “Here’s the big question for the trial,” Kevin said. “Do we go for broke and use the CIA evidence?”

“Why would you use it?”

“I think there are two ways to possibly win Draga’s trial at this point. The best way would be to prove that Draga was working for the CIA and tipping them off to his military operations. With the CIA evidence, I can show that Draga more than discharged his duty as a commander to prevent war crimes. And it will put the damaging speeches and statements he made into a wholly different light.”

“What’s the other way?”

“The other possibility is to continue with our defense that the people who committed the war crimes weren’t even under Draga’s command, which is true. But William Evans from the CIA might be the only witness who could identify the list of bona fide Black Dragons that Draga gave me. As it stands right now, I’ve got a list of all the perpetrators of war crimes from the victim witnesses. That’s defense exhibit 5. But I need the CIA evidence to show that these people were not on the list of people under Draga’s command.”

“Will Draga let you expose his CIA activities?”

“Well, it’s actually my decision. As his lawyer, I have the right to make decisions on trial tactics. I did promise Draga that I would leave that decision to the end of the trial. It looks like that time has come.”

The next day, Kevin brought pannekoeken with him to the prison. When he went into the interview room with their breakfast, Draga was his usual sports-obsessed self.

“One week to Super Bowl Sunday,” Draga enthused. “The point spread is down to five points. I think I’ve got you.”

“You haven’t got anything. There’s a saying in the United States: ‘It ain’t over till the fat lady sings.’”

Draga looked puzzled. “You mean, like in the opera? Well, just bring 30 Euros to court a week from Monday.”

“We’re not going to be in court a week from Monday. Your trial is going to be over this week.”

That pronouncement seemed to have no impact whatsoever on Draga. “Well, you better come here and see me on Monday. In fact, use some of my winnings to buy us both a steak dinner and bring it with you.”

“Is that all you think about – football and food?”

“Just about. Two of the three F’s. The other one is not available to me.”

Kevin got serious. “We need to talk about the trial.”

Draga grimaced. “I like the way you’re handling it. Just keep up the good work.”

“Don’t you care how it comes out?”

“I already know how it comes out, Kevin. We lose. I get a life sentence. I am transferred to the United States, and I get a new life in a year or so. We’ve had this conversation.”

“I know, but now my daughter’s life is wrapped up in this. It looks like Vacinovic and Golic are behind her kidnapping. That guy’s not really your brother-in-law, is he?”

Draga’s expression sobered. “No, he is not related to me at all – he is with the secret police. But, I don’t like our odds, Kevin. We’re playing against the house. Our chances of winning in this court are close to zero. I wouldn’t bet on us.”

“Not if I throw the Hail Mary pass on the last play and show them that you were playing for the home team all along.”

Draga shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Kevin, you’ve been straight with me all along. Let me ask you this. If we keep quiet and don’t bring this CIA stuff up, do you think Pete Barnes and the boys will honor their promise to me?”

Kevin thought about that. He could say no and make it more palatable for Draga to let him use the CIA evidence in court, but he was not going to lie.

“I think they will,” he finally replied. “They got Maria Jones out of solitary confinement. Plus, now a Dutch police officer has heard the tapes and seen the reports. I think the CIA will try to keep its word.”

Draga looked like he was thinking; he said nothing for a while. “I think so, too, now that you got ’em on tape. That was the best thing a lawyer could have done for me. I’m so lucky I got you as my lawyer. No one else would have had the guts to do that.”

Kevin held eye contact with his client.

“So, I don’t have anything to gain by exposing that aspect of my life, and I have a lot to lose,” Draga continued. “If we use it, my family will be in danger and the CIA won’t honor the deal.”

“But if you are acquitted, you won’t need their deal.”

“Kevin, you don’t understand. If I burn my bridges with the CIA, even if I am acquitted, I lose. Remember that I have to go to Germany, then Belgium, and then Sweden to serve my time on my old cases. I’ll serve more time in worse places than if I am convicted in this case.”

“So the best result for you is if we lose,” Kevin said slowly.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you from the beginning,” Draga said. “I want to lose. Except, now, for one reason: your daughter.”

“I guess this is what Bradford Stone meant when he claimed it presented a conflict of interest,” said Kevin, beginning to feel thoroughly defeated.

“No. I know you, Kevin. You wanted to win my case from the very beginning. Your daughter’s situation hasn’t changed that.” He stood up and stretched. “Will the CIA evidence make a real difference?”