
# Curtain's Fall

By Katrina Morris

Copyright 2015

Katrina Morris

All rights reserved

No part of this e-book may be reproduced in any form other than that in which it was purchased and without the written permission of the author. This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

# Preface

Oxford Dictionaries defines the term anachronism as "a thing...appropriate to a period other than that in which it exists, especially a thing that is conspicuously old-fashioned."

Without question, _Curtain's Fall_ is an anachronism. Set at the turn of the millennium, protagonist Kate Bennett is repeatedly foiled in her attempt to disclose the U.S.'s role in precipitating an interethnic conflict in Kosovo. Kate's struggle to tell her side of the story is monumentally more difficult than it would have been today, in our world of ubiquitous mobile phones and Internet access.

The characters themselves are a bit old-fashioned. Kate and fellow protagonist Luke Davis are hardworking and modest, always seeking to do what's right. The antagonists, too, pursue acts of virtue, but in their desperate attempt to depose Yugoslav President Slobodan Milosevic from power, they neglect to consider that the war they are expediting may ultimately destabilize the region indefinitely.

_Curtain's Fall_ unravels a tale of thirty years of deceit, culminating in a final act of vengeance with lasting repercussions for the future of Kosovo.

Dedication

To Tony and Alexa: I love you both infinitely. Thanks for the adventure!

# Chapter 1

"The overpowering smell of chemical should have tipped me off that something was wrong. As I moved closer for a better look, my arm grazed a cool metal table."

She smiled, appreciating the precise manner of Bill's storytelling. She noticed with amusement that as they walked, she and Bill were in step. She inhaled deeply, the crisp January air filling her lungs. This distraction was exactly what she needed.

He spoke quietly, solemnly. "A white cloth covered most of a large object on the aluminum table, save a bloodless left hand."

She furrowed her brow, confused by the scene he had painted. Her eyes widened in understanding, a grin spreading across her face. "I don't believe it," she said, chuckling. "You stumbled upon the cadaver lab while you were in search of the language lab?"

He nodded. "It's absolutely true," he said, his hands raised in a gesture of innocence. "Any aspirations I had of becoming a doctor were abandoned the moment I met that dead person."

"Well, it's good you ended up a linguist. I never would have made it through my Russian class without your help," she said.

He seemed embarrassed by the compliment. "I'm glad you called, Kate." He paused, looking down at his feet. "How are you doing?"

Her smile evaporated. "It's difficult. Every little thing reminds me of him."

They walked for a while without speaking, but she could delay relaying the news no longer. "I accepted a short term assignment in Kosovo. I leave tomorrow."

"Oh." He looked past the trees, into the distance. "How long will you be gone?"

"Four weeks," she said.

He nodded slowly. "I don't blame you for wanting to go, Kate. I know how important he was to you." They walked a while in silence.

"There's something else, Bill," she said.

"What is it?"

"Would you be willing to translate a note from Cyrillic into English for me?"

A puzzled grin spread across his face. "Why don't you ask one of your own linguists at the State Department to do it?"

They had reached the end of the loop through Triangle Park. She grasped the sleeve of his coat gently with her leather glove. "I don't want to involve anyone at work in this," she said softly. "You're the best Russian linguist at the National Security Agency, supremely overqualified for this simple task. Can we meet at your place tonight?"

He said, "I'll agree to help you on one condition: I get to tell my colleagues that you and I had dinner so they stop trying to set me up on dates."

She smiled. "It's a deal. See you at seven."

# Chapter 2

She carefully unfolded a small piece of yellow paper from her purse and placed it in front of him on the kitchen table. She let him examine the paper while she poured them each a glass of Chianti.

He rubbed his temples. "The script appears to be Serbian or Bulgarian Cyrillic. It's similar to Russian, so I should be able to translate most of the letters into our Latin alphabet. If the words are Serbian, then you're in luck."

"I didn't know you spoke Serbo-Croatian," she remarked.

He shook his head. "I don't speak Serbo-Croatian, but I inherited a translation dictionary from a colleague who was killed by sniper fire in Sarajevo. At her funeral her father said I would be honoring Adriana's life every time I referenced the book."

She handed Bill his glass of Chianti and pulled up a chair next to him at the table. "To Adriana," she offered, raising her glass to meet his.

He sipped the wine and began to work. Kate watched him translate the Cyrillic characters into Latin, his long fingers transcribing the letters from the yellow paper into his notebook. His jaw muscles tensed as he concentrated.

He crossed the room to pull Adriana's dictionary from the bookshelf. From the kitchen Kate observed him standing in front of the walnut shelf, flipping through the paperback, scribbling words in his notebook.

Frowning, he returned to the table. "What is it?" she asked.

"I converted all of the letters into Latin, but none of the words mean anything to me." He pointed to script at the top of the paper. "This says 'potkova,' which means 'horseshoe.' And here, in the middle of the page, are three phrases, each a combination of a proper name and a number: 'Pec, twenty-three; Podujevo, forty-seven; and Urosevac, twelve.'"

"Pec, Podujevo and Urosevac are towns in Kosovo," Kate said. As the lead intelligence analyst in the State Department's Balkans division, these cities were as familiar to her as L.A. and New York.

He gave her a puzzled look. "I thought you said this was a personal matter."

"It is." She leaned closer to Bill, reexamining the paper that she had studied hundreds of times before the note had something to do with Kosovo.

She noticed something new. Her eyes wide, she said excitedly, "Look at this, Bill. Pec, Podujevo and Urosevac are arranged on this paper exactly as they would appear on a map of Kosovo."

"A map?" Bill asked.

She nodded. "Originally I thought the words were scrawled haphazardly because of the lack of horizontal and vertical alignment of the script. But now it's easy to see that these are points on a map."

She drummed her fingers on the table. "But what does 'horseshoe' have to do with anything? And what do the numbers associated with each of the towns mean?"

After a short time, Bill broke the silence. "Kate, maybe I can help you crack this mystery if you tell me how you came to possess the map."

This was playing out much differently than she had expected. What had her father been up to?

# Chapter 3

She owed Bill an explanation. She took a deep breath and began her story.

"When my aunt called a few days before Christmas to convey the news of my dad's death, it seemed impossible that he was gone. But then, at his funeral back in Chicago, his absence became real, and it was too much for me to take. I fled the church in the middle of the funeral service and trampled about a mile through snowy Lincoln Park back to our bungalow. When I got home I milled about listlessly for a while, unsure of what to do. Finally I settled into the oversized leather chair at my dad's desk in the study."

She continued, "I spotted a small piece of yellow paper near my feet, under the desk. When I bent down to retrieve the paper, I noticed a sizable stack of hundred dollar bills banded to the yellow note.

"The note appeared to be written in Russian. Admittedly the first thing I thought was that my dad must have somehow been connected to the Russian mafia. Why else would he possess a stack of cash and a note written in Cyrillic?

"But it seemed impossible that my dad could have a relationship with the mafia, as he was the most honest man I knew, and he had plenty of money in savings. I sat there for a long time, thinking.

"The doorbell rang. I quickly pocketed the note and buried the cash deep in one of the desk drawers. My aunt had come to check on me. She offered to help wrap up loose ends in Chicago so that I could try to get back to a normal life in Washington quickly.

"I stayed at my aunt's house that night. The next morning we returned to the bungalow to retrieve my dad's insurance documents. While my aunt was in the kitchen, I hurried into the study to grab the stack of cash. I dug through the papers in the desk drawer, but the money was gone."

Kate circled the Chianti in her glass, her gaze fixed on the swirling liquid. "I figured the Russian mafia had sent somebody to the bungalow to retrieve the cash, but this explanation no longer makes sense, now that we know the note is a map of Kosovo."

Bill looked disturbed. "Who was in your house that night? Who took the money?"

"I don't know," she said. She had been uncomfortable with the idea that somebody had broken into the bungalow, but she had convinced herself that the intruder had only been after the cash. She shuddered, unsettled by the stranger's unknown motive.

"If we can understand the purpose of the map, then maybe we can figure out who the intruder was," he suggested.

They sat together in silence, examining the map for additional clues. She sighed, stretching her arms above her head. "I had better get going. My flight leaves early in the morning."

He retrieved her jacket from the closet and unlocked the apartment door. He looked worried, but he said nothing.

"I need to do this," she offered gently.

"I know," he said. "Perhaps you'll solve the riddle of the map while you're there." He looked down at his feet, and then back up at her. "Please be careful, Kate. All it takes is one bullet from a sniper's rifle."

She clasped his hands, offering a reassuringly grip. "I'll be back in four weeks, Bill. You can count on it."

# Chapter 4

The flight descended toward Sarajevo, once the capital of Yugoslavia. Kate closed her eyes, permitting herself a moment of reflection. When Bosnia declared independence from Yugoslavia in 1992, war raged for three years. In the end, NATO landed its first post-Cold War mission: to keep the peace in a country blown apart by ethnic conflict.

Her thoughts returned to the map. A new idea came to her, a possible explanation. Her father manufactured mine safety equipment, and he periodically exported his materials to mines in Europe and South America. Had her father planned on doing business in Kosovo?

She recalled a conversation she and her dad shared the last time she had seen him, at Thanksgiving. Why hadn't she thought of this before? She had been talking about her work, and he mentioned that someday he dreamed of visiting Kosovo to see the Trepca mines. The mines, he had informed her, were rumored to be the most abundant source of zinc in all the world.

She had established a business connection between her dad and Kosovo, but this didn't explain the existence of the map, or of the cash. Or of the disappearance of the cash.

Kate craned her neck to glimpse Sarajevo as the jet descended. She spied medieval steeples popping out like daggers among the red roofs. The Mijacka River, snaking through the heart of the old town, glistened.

The sun was beginning to set. She spotted the famous Latin Bridge, where Archduke Franz Ferdinand was assassinated in 1914 by a small group of young Serbs seeking independence from Austria. Now, in 1999, the tables had turned: Kosovar Albanians were taking up arms to fight for independence from the Serbs.

Kate had told Bill that Kosovo was safer now than it had been in a while. While that was true, "safe" was a relative term. She took a deep breath, wondering what was in store for her these next four weeks.

# Chapter 5

An Army lieutenant greeted her at the gate at Sarajevo International Airport.

"Ms. Bennett? I'm Lieutenant Scudder. I'll be escorting you to Kosovo Verification Mission headquarters in Pristina. After we retrieve your luggage, we'll proceed to the military end of the airport."

"All I have is this backpack," she said.

Lieutenant Scudder smiled. "To the Jeep, then." They walked to the far end of the terminal to Scudder's vehicle. They drove out of the civilian airport and past a guard into a restricted military area.

Parking near a Black Hawk helicopter, Kate said wistfully, "I've always wanted to ride in one of those."

"Today's your lucky day, ma'am. We're transporting two high level dignitaries to Pristina, and they don't want to drive the scenic four hours through the mountains in the dark. It'll be about a thirty-minute flight to Pristina Airfield. We'll take off as soon as General Willis and Secretary Anderson arrive."

She could hardly believe she would be accompanying the U.S. Secretary of State and a decorated four-star general to Kosovo. "Why are General Willis and Secretary Anderson going to Pristina?" she asked.

"They're meeting with the chief of the Kosovo Verification Mission for a situation update," Scudder said.

"A situation update? Why would they bother going to Pristina when they can video teleconference?"

Scudder shrugged his shoulders. "I wondered the same thing, ma'am."

# Chapter 6

A speeding Mercedes parked near the helicopter. A chauffeur opened the back door for the Secretary of State, who clasped her briefcase as she swung her lean legs out of the automobile. Scudder offered a hand to the Secretary as she stepped into the body of the Black Hawk, and then he motioned to Kate to climb into the helicopter. Scudder gave Kate a boost.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Madam Secretary. I'm Kate Bennett, an analyst in the Balkans division."

Secretary Anderson smiled. "The pleasure is mine. Your monthly reports make it to my desk, which is no small feat for a mid-level analyst, Ms. Bennett."

Kate was incredulous that the Secretary of State had recognized her work. "Thank you, ma'am," she said.

General Willis's Mercedes arrived a few minutes later. The General climbed into the helicopter and took a seat next to the Secretary on the bench.

Scudder handed ear plugs to the passengers, "It'll be just a few minutes until the rotors start spinning. Flight time to Pristina Airfield is thirty-two minutes." Scudder sat on a stool across from Kate, securing his seat belt.

As the Secretary inserted her earplugs, she addressed General Willis. "How do you think the meeting went, John?"

General Willis said, "Milosevic is never going to agree to withdraw his troops from Kosovo, Alice. He purposely likened the conflict in Kosovo to the situation in Chechnya to remind us that Moscow will veto any U.N. Security Council resolution for NATO intervention. If NATO could find justification to intervene in Kosovo, then what would stop us from intervening in Russia's backyard? He's pitting us against Moscow to save his own skin."

The Secretary closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. "With the fiftieth anniversary of NATO just around the corner, we need a victory in Kosovo right now, to prove that NATO is not an anachronism, and that when push comes to shove, we'll do the right thing."

Kate was listening carefully, and the Secretary seemed to notice. "What do you think, Ms. Bennett?"

Did the Secretary really want to know what a mid-level analyst thought? Kate chose her words carefully, politely. "I have never considered the internal conflict in Kosovo as having anything to do with NATO's relevance, or with U.S.-Russian relations."

The Secretary said, "Milosevic's inability to manage his own security situation effectively is why Kosovo has become NATO's problem, Kate. As long as Milosevic is in power, there will be no peace in the Balkans. We cannot make the same mistake we did in Bosnia, wasting time debating what action to take against Milosevic while he carries out atrocities against his own people."

Kate was silent. The Secretary said, "What is it, Kate? It's not every day that I have a chance to hear what one of my top intelligence analysts think."

Kate opened up. "Madame Secretary, Milosevic is a rational and calculating leader. He wouldn't order ethnic cleansing in Kosovo, because he knows such a move would foster his political demise. If we really want peace in Kosovo, then we should help Milosevic disarm the insurgent Kosovo Liberation Army, and we should make clear to the KLA that an independent Kosovo is not an option."

A forced smile appeared on the Secretary's face. "Our problem isn't the KLA, Ms. Bennett; it's Milosevic. If he is unwilling to cooperate with NATO, then we must follow through with our threat of air strikes for the sake of NATO's credibility."

Kate felt her pulse quicken. "An air campaign over Kosovo will incite an exodus of refugees into Albania and Macedonia. If you believe that Milosevic wants an ethnic cleansing of the province, then a NATO air campaign would only help him achieve these goals."

General Willis cut in. "A brief air campaign over Kosovo would undermine Milosevic's domestic credibility, deposing him of power. With Milosevic out of the way, we can bring peace to Kosovo, with fewer lives lost in the long run."

Kate said, "The American public won't agree to wage a preemptive military campaign."

"They did in Bosnia," the General retorted.

"That's because the media had documented the genocide in Bosnia. There is no genocide in Kosovo," Kate asserted.

The rotor blades of the Black Hawk began to turn, muffling the General's response and terminating the prospect of continued conversation.

Kate looked past Scudder, out the window. As the helicopter ascended, she noticed the buildings below pocked by missiles from the Bosnian war. The Black Hawk glided over forested hills, gaining altitude to traverse the more rugged alpine terrain of the province of Montenegro.

Twenty minutes later, in the dwindling light of dusk, the terrain softened to rolling hills, and then finally to the flat plains of farm land. _This must be Kosovo_ , she thought.

The helicopter descended. She craned her neck to look ahead, searching for their destination. She spotted a tiny air strip dimly lit among farms. A few miles past that she could see the sprawling city of Pristina, the capital of Kosovo. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a nourishing breath, eager for the adventure that lay ahead.

# Chapter 7

The desolate airfield consisted of a hangar and two other buildings. One of Scudder's sergeants had secured a weathered Mercedes for their ride to Verification Mission headquarters.

The passengers rode in silence while Scudder handled the luxury vehicle effortlessly the first ten kilometers through farmland. As they entered Pristina, Kate found herself gripping the door handle while Scudder managed the Mercedes up and down hilly roads through heavy, seemingly lawless traffic.

Mission headquarters, like most of the other buildings on the street, was a squat, concrete compound. Scudder squeezed the car in a tight spot in front. He tugged the heavy metal door of the building, holding it open for his three passengers.

The first thing Kate noticed about the building interior was the harsh lighting. Fluorescent bulbs illuminated dingy, whitewashed walls, and the scuffed marble floor had lost its luster long ago. Desks peppered the wide, open room. Kate noticed three offices at the back of the room, appendages that appeared to have been constructed more recently, perhaps to suit the needs of the Mission's leaders.

A lanky, sloppily dressed civilian popped out of one of the offices. He spoke rapidly, a forced smile pasted on his oval face. "Madam Secretary and General Willis, welcome to the KVM operations center. Please join me in my office," he said. She recognized the man as Joe Watson, the Mission's newly appointed director.

Kate spied the only other person working in the office, a uniformed U.S. Army Captain. His gaze was focused on his computer screen. He looked familiar, but she couldn't place how she knew him. He looked at Kate and Scudder, a smile spreading across his face. He approached them at the door.

Kate recalled how she knew the Captain. She had seen him once before at an intelligence conference in Germany two years prior. She remembered him distinctly because he was exceptionally well spoken. His bright green eyes had glistened as he presented the audience with an update on the ground situation in Bosnia.

Addressing Scudder, the Captain said, "How are things in Sarajevo, Lieutenant?"

"Business as usual, sir."

The Captain chuckled and turned to Kate. As their eyes met, Kate felt her pulse quicken.

"Captain Luke Davis," he said, extending a firm handshake. "I'm the Verification Mission's operations officer."

"Kate Bennett, State Department. Reporting for thirty days of patrol duty."

"We've been expecting you," Luke said. "Let's get you outfitted." Scudder excused himself as Kate and Luke walked over to a closet in the far corner of the room.

"Here's a flak jacket, helmet and radio," he offered. "We don't carry guns. People can shoot at us— and they do— but we're not allowed to shoot back."

She laughed. "That's reassuring."

"What languages do you speak?" he asked.

"Basic conversational Albanian, and a little Serbo-Croatian."

"Good," he said. "Tomorrow you'll patrol Stari Trg, thirty miles north of Pristina, with an observer named John Harris. He's from the State Department, too."

Scudder rejoined Kate and Luke near the supply closet. "You're not headed back this evening, are you, Chip?" Luke asked.

"No, sir. The Secretary and General didn't want to fly back in the dark. We'll leave first thing in the morning."

They heard the click of Director Watson's office door. _How strange to travel all the way to Pristina for such a brief meeting_ , Kate thought.

Turning to Kate, Scudder said, "It was a pleasure to meet you, ma'am."

"And you, Lieutenant Scudder. Thanks for remarkable ride."

As Scudder opened the door to escort the dignitaries outside, Kate felt the cold winter air permeate the room.

Luke turned to Kate. "The Hotel Ambassador is about six blocks north of the office. If you can give me five minutes to wrap up my work, I'll drive you there to get settled in for the night."

"Thank you," she said. She sat down at a desk near the door. She stole a glance at Luke, who had resumed his position at his computer. She looked forward to working with somebody who seemed to take his work as seriously as she took hers.

# Chapter 8

He unlocked the passenger side door for her. "What kind of car is this?" she asked. "It looks like a Fiat, but the 'Z' insignia on the hood is unfamiliar."

He smiled. "Until recently Fiat produced a line of its compact cars about fifty miles north of here. They were sold under the name Zastava, which means 'flag' in Serbo-Croatian."

As they drove out of the parking lot, she asked, "Do you still go out on patrol, or are you too busy managing operations?"

"With hundreds of observers in the field, I spend most of my time in the office coordinating patrols. But I don't mind. I get to read everybody's field reports, which gives me a better perspective on the Kosovo ground situation than I would have if I were limited to patrolling only one neighborhood."

"That explains why I haven't seen any reports from you in a while," she commented. He looked at her quizzically. She explained, "I heard you speak at an intelligence conference in Stuttgart two years ago. Since then I always looked forward to reading your reports on Bosnia, and, more recently, on Kosovo. Your updates were more interesting and well-written than other analysts' reports."

"Wow, thanks," he said.

She saw the sign for the Hotel Ambassador a block ahead. He parked the car on the street outside the hotel.

"Where are your bags?" he asked.

"It's just this," she said, pointing to her backpack.

He smiled. "You do know you're going to be here for four weeks, right?"

They entered the warmly lit lobby of the boutique hotel and approached the reception desk. In English the woman pointed out the restaurant adjacent to the lobby, and the stairway around the corner that Kate could use to reach her room on the second floor.

She extended her hand. "Thanks for the ride, Captain Davis."

He was looking past her, into the restaurant. His smile evaporated.

"What is it?" she asked. She turned to see what disturbed him, but she didn't recognize anything unusual.

"Nothing," he muttered. He handed her the patrol gear. Unsmiling, he said, quickly, "I'll see you at seven o'clock tomorrow morning in the office."

"Okay." she said. He turned around and left quickly.

# Chapter 9

The next morning she walked into the office with her flak jacket and helmet in hand. She had slept well and found the brisk hike to work invigorating. She kicked the snow off her boots at the front door and approached Luke, ready for her first day of patrol.

Luke said, "When he decides to arrive this morning, I'll introduce you to John Harris, your patrol partner. John will brief you on all of the safety aspects of patrol work, and about how to submit your daily report. We haven't seen any noteworthy activity in Stari Trg recently, so your first day on patrol should be uneventful."

He continued, "The only area of interest up in the mountains around Stari Trg are the Trepca mines, and they haven't been productive since 1996, when Milosevic curtailed government funding of the mines after the predominantly Albanian workforce went on strike. I'll change the patrol schedule next week, so you'll get a more exciting route on the next go-around. In the meantime, your first week on patrol should be fairly low key."

Luke's phone rang. "I'm sorry, but I need to take this call. Harris should be here shortly, and then the two of you can get going." Kate nodded.

She sat down at a desk awaiting Harris's arrival. _What good fortune to have been assigned a patrol around the Trepca mines_ , she thought. She could perform her work with the Mission while simultaneously investigating a possible connection between her dad and the mines. _Patrol duty could not have worked out better_.

Luke said the mines had not been productive in three years. If her father had been working a business deal in Kosovo, then there should be evidence of recent activity at the mining complex. She was eager to see if anything was happening there.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the rush of cold air as the iron door lumbered open. A large, scowling man sauntered into the office. Was the scar across his right cheek what made him appear frightening, or was it his gargantuan size?

"John Harris?" she asked weakly.

He looked at her blankly. _Thank goodness_ , she thought. _I've made a mistake, and this is not my patrol partner._

He nodded his head. She gulped, extending her hand. "I'm Kate Bennett. I've been assigned to patrol with you."

He said nothing. Determined to break the ice, she asked, "So what team are you assigned to back at the State Department?"

"I'm a Latin America analyst," he muttered. "Out of my element a bit here, I suppose." His mouth curled, imitating a smile.

"What a coincidence," Kate said. "My good friend Bobbie Morrison is an analyst on that team."

"Yeah, I know him," he said.

_Did he just say "he?"_ Bobbie Morrison was female. Either Kate had misunderstood Harris, or he had only pretended to know Bobbie. Why would he lie?

She decided to drop it. "Captain Davis said you could run me through the Mission's safety and reporting requirements while we're patrolling together today." Harris grunted, indicating his lack of enthusiasm for their new partnership.

On the bright side, the absence of small talk would give her a better chance to observe and take notes during their patrol, which was what she was here to do anyway.

# Chapter 10

Harris predictably muttered only a handful of words to Kate as he maneuvered the Humvee through the streets of Pristina; she used the opportunity to observe the scenery. They were headed northwest, toward the city of Mitrovica. As they passed small clusters of farm houses along the way, Kate noticed how well-paved and maintained the highways were; she had expected Kosovo's infrastructure to be much more primitive.

They skirted Mitrovica city center, turning northeast onto the mountain highway leading to the small outpost of Stari Trg. The road lumbered higher into the mountains, snaking through snow-topped evergreens. They passed the mining complex on the south side of the road. As Luke had intimated, the area did indeed appear to be deserted.

If the mines weren't operable, then who would be interested in buying mine safety equipment from her dad? Kate thought back to how her father had spoken with excitement last Thanksgiving about the mines. Perhaps her father wasn't try to sell his mine safety equipment here. Could he have been working a deal to excavate the mines himself? Her dad knew enough about mining operations to take on a project like Trepca. Since the map was written in Serbo-Croatian, the artist must have been Serb rather than Albanian. Perhaps her dad had been working with a politician in Belgrade to secure permission to begin excavating Trepca.

But what did Pec, Podujevo and Urosevac have to do with mining Trepca? Had her dad's Serb contact identified resources in these three towns to help get the mining project underway? She had to find the author of the yellow note. She was certain this person could explain everything.

# Chapter 11

Harris parked the Humvee outside a small house on Highway 129. "The coffee is terrible, but the woman is tolerable," he explained.

A middle-aged woman with a long, dark braid greeted the pair as they entered. The woman looked nervous. Harris was good at making people feel uncomfortable, Kate thought.

They sat down at a round table near the front window, the only guests in the formal parlor room that doubled as a small coffeehouse. The woman approached them cautiously to take their order.

"Kosovo coffee is reputably the greatest in the world," Kate said to the woman in the best Albanian she could muster.

The woman smiled. "It is," she replied.

Looking at Kate, Harris offered, "This coffee is much more bitter than what you are probably used to drinking back home."

The woman looked at Kate. "Does he want watered-down black coffee again?" she asked.

Kate suppressed laughter. "Yes. And one espresso for me, please."

The woman left to fill their order. Harris asked, "What did she say?"

"She asked if you wanted your usual," Kate said. She gazed out the window, noticing the absence of traffic on Highway 129. How many automobiles could one expect, she thought, where there was nothing around except breathtaking mountain vistas and an unproductive mine?

The woman returned with the coffee. "Will you join us?" Kate asked, gesturing at the open chair, but the woman was apprehensive. Kate offered, "I don't think he speaks Albanian, and he chooses also to speak very little English."

The woman hesitated for a moment, and then she sat down. "Our family opened the cafe thirty years ago to support the growing population in Stari Trg when the mines were booming. We don't get many visitors these days. We keep the cafe open now mostly out of habit."

Kate said, "The Trepca mines are rumored to be a great untapped source of zinc deposits."

"All of our lives, this is what we heard, too. Before the mines were finally closed, they had been controlled by Belgrade. Production was dependent on government subsidies that evaporated over time. A handful of older men from Stari Trg continue to work the mine with rudimentary equipment, searching for rare minerals that might be worth something on the international market."

"Is it possible to speak with the workers at the mine?" Kate asked.

The woman looked wary. "Why are you so interested in the mines? I thought you were here to monitor the cease fire between the police and the KLA?"

Kate replied, "My interest in the mines is personal: my father was a miner. When I started studying Kosovo, he told me about the Trepca mines. I just thought it might be neat to see the place firsthand."

The woman relaxed. "I can arrange that for you. My brother still goes down to the mines almost every day. I joke with him that he wastes his time searching for buried treasure, but he is very serious about exploring the mine. He would appreciate knowing that other people are interested in his work."

Kate asked, "Has anybody been nosing around here recently, showing interest in the mine?"

"Only you," the woman said. "It would take an absurd capital investment to make the mines productive. It seems an impossibility."

Harris drummed his fingers on the table. "Ready to go?"

Kate smiled politely at the woman. "Thank you for the excellent coffee," she said, and then added, "Miru pafshim," an Albanian "goodbye."

The woman bowed her head. Harris shuffled a handful of dollars on the table as they departed.

# Chapter 12

"What did she say to you?" Harris asked as they climbed back into the Humvee.

"I asked her whether there had been any activity in Stari Trg lately."

"I already told you nothing ever happens here," he said.

They drove back past the deserted mining complex. Disappointment washed over Kate. This connection to her dad seemed like the best bet to unlocking the key to the yellow note, and now it appeared to have been a complete bust.

Harris drove the Humvee back down the mountain. He turned off the vehicle outside of a cluster of small buildings near the main road to Mitrovica. Kate looked around. Flanking a grocery store on one side was an auto mechanic's shop, and on the other, a restaurant that looked closed. They sat there for a few minutes in silence. Finally Kate asked, "What are we doing here?"

"That's the million-dollar question, baby. Who the hell cares about Kosovo? I'll tell you who: nobody."

She shook her head. "No, that's not what I meant. Why are we parked here?"

He looked annoyed. "Every day I drive up to Stari Trg. I drink bad coffee at that crappy little house on the mountain. Then I come down here and sit in the Humvee until the market opens. When that happens, which is always sometime between noon and thirteen hundred hours, I go in and buy a Coke and something to eat. Then I eat my lunch in the Humvee while I read a Clancy book for about an hour. Then I head back to headquarters to write a paragraph about how absolutely nothing interesting is going on in Stari Trg."

His attitude was beginning to annoy her. "Why don't you just read your book up at the coffeehouse? It would be much warmer in the parlor."

"For as smart as you think you are, I'm surprised you haven't figured out that I don't like people." He shook his head and started the Humvee's engine. "Let's just call it a day."

They drove back to Pristina in silence. When they returned to headquarters, Luke met them at the door. "Harris, where have you been? I've been radioing you for about an hour. I was just about to send an armed patrol out after you."

Harris snickered. "My apologies, Captain Davis. I was distracted by my new babysitting job." Luke glared at Harris and then shook his head. "Just get your patrol report done."

"It'll be good practice for the little lady," he said. He turned around and stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him.

"I'll take care of it," Kate said evenly. She sat down at a computer a few desks away from Luke's. She could figure out the protocols for writing the report herself. She accessed a word processing program on the desktop and began to type out the relevant parts of her conversation with the Albanian woman.

# Chapter 13

She was so focused on writing her report that she had not noticed Luke behind her until he cleared his throat. She turned her head, her gaze meeting his. "How long were you standing there?" she asked.

"I didn't want to interrupt your train of thought," he said.

She had been waiting for an opportunity to address the situation from earlier. "I should have checked the radio to ensure we were in contact with headquarters."

Luke said, "Harris probably turned the volume all the way down. He seems to know exactly how to get under my skin."

Pointing at her computer screen, he said, "As soon as you're finished, please e-mail me your report. I'll proofread your submission and then publish it in the intelligence database." He went back to his desk.

A while later she glanced at the clock, surprised that it was already six. She looked around, noticing that she and Luke were the only two workers in the office. She e-mailed Luke her report and walked over to his desk. "I'm calling it a day," she said.

He looked up. "There's something I need to investigate firsthand in the morning. Would you like to come with me instead of patrolling with Harris tomorrow?"

"Absolutely," she said unhesitatingly.

"I thought you might find me a suitable alternative to John Harris," he said. She remained at his desk a moment longer. "What is it?" he asked.

She inhaled deeply. "May I ask you a question?"

"Sure. What's up?"

"I'm trying to figure out the connection between three numbers and three towns: Pec, twenty-three. Podujevo, forty-seven. Urosevac, twelve."

He smiled. "That's easy. The numbers represent the Serb military units stationed in each of those towns. The 23rd Artillery Battery is stationed in Pec, the 47th Company is in Podujevo, and the 12th Company is located in Urosevac."

"I should have thought of that," she said, more to herself than to Luke. She had been stuck thinking of the numbers in cardinal rather than ordinal form.

"Are you working on a Kosovo crossword puzzle?" he joked.

Kate's mind was spinning. Her deceased father, with no known connection to Kosovo, had possessed a handwritten map denoting Serb military units in three mid-sized towns. She thought of a far-fetched explanation that would have been palatable, had the person in question not been her father. _No_ , she resisted. _He could not have kept such a secret all these years._

Luke interrupted her thoughts. "Are you all right? You look pale as a ghost."

Her mind raced. "I think I need a drink."

"I know a good place," he said. He shut down his computer, grabbed his coat, and locked the office behind them.

# Chapter 14

They walked in silence a few blocks east to a pub near Pristina University. Luke opened the wooden door, ushering Kate inside from the cold. Four people sat at the bar, and clusters of others enjoyed conversations around cafe tables. Kate heard the band in the back singing an old Beatles song. They chose a table away from the band where it was quieter.

"What can I get you?" Luke asked.

"Whiskey on the rocks, please."

He nodded, draping his coat over one of the chairs. "Be right back."

She took off her coat and sat down. Glancing around, she guessed that most of the young patrons were university students.

He returned with the drinks and sat down across the small cafe table from Kate. Suddenly the round table seemed miniature, the space between them too slight. Leaning in, he asked, "What's going on, Kate?"

She trusted Luke Davis, and she saw value in sharing with him what she knew. Perhaps he could help her figure it all out. She took a deep breath and a sip of whiskey. "My dad died right before Christmas. While I was home for the funeral, I found a strange map depicting the Serb military units in Pec, Podujevo and Urosevac. 'Horseshoe' was scrawled at the top of the map. I can't figure out what that means."

Luke sipped his beer. He drummed his fingers on the table to the beat of the band's version of "We Can Work It Out."

His eyes widened. "Do you have a pen?" She nodded, handing him one from the inside pocket of her coat. He sketched a map of Kosovo on a napkin, indicating Pec, Podujevo and Urosevac with dots. She stared at the napkin while Luke connected the dots. "Check this out," he said. Horseshoe is the shape connecting the three towns."

"You're right," she said, frowning. "Could the map indicate a military operation?"

He shook his head. "I doubt it. Those units do little more than police neighborhoods where Serb families reside." He added, "The open end of the horseshoe faces Albania, and within the horseshoe is the largest concentration of Kosovar Albanians in the province. Maybe this is simply a map illustrating a defensive Serb posture within Kosovo."

"For what purpose?" Kate asked.

"Milosevic would be foolish to attempt any type of military operation in violation of the cease-fire agreement, right under the noses of Verification Mission observers. Perhaps the map is simply meant to illustrate that the Serbs are well positioned to keep the threat of the spread of Kosovar Albanian influence at bay."

She sighed. Instead of providing clarity, discovering additional details about the map only generated more questions.

# Chapter 15

While the band was on break, Luke asked, "May I look at the actual map sometime?"

"I left it at, uh, a friend's house in Washington," she said.

"At your boyfriend's place?" Luke asked.

"No," she said quickly. Puzzled, she added, "How did you know my friend was male?"

"You paused momentarily when you said 'a friend,' as if you were trying to decide how to describe your relationship."

She felt uncomfortable talking about Bill with Luke. "What about you? Do you have a girlfriend?"

"Nice diversion, Ms. Bennett." He smiled. "Tell me something else interesting about yourself, then," he suggested.

She took another sip of her whiskey. "I got to ride in a Black Hawk with the U.S. Secretary of State and the commander of NATO yesterday. That's something interesting."

"I had wanted to ask you about that," he said, suddenly serious. "Did the Secretary or General give any clues about why they were meeting with Director Watson?"

"According to Lieutenant Scudder, they were here for a situation brief," she said.

"Why come all the way to Kosovo, when conferencing over a secure telephone line is so easy these days?" he asked.

"I wondered the same thing," Kate admitted. "Whatever they talked about, they felt it important enough to do in person."

"Do you know what Secretary Anderson and General Willis were doing in Sarajevo before they arrived in Pristina?"

"They met with Milosevic to try to persuade him to remove the Serb army from Kosovo. Milosevic refused, of course. The Secretary and General intimated that what was needed next was a brief NATO air campaign over Kosovo to illustrate NATO's utility in keeping post-Cold War thugs in line," she said.

"Do you think an air campaign is a good idea?" he asked.

"It doesn't matter what I think," she said. "It sounds like it's an option being discussed back in Washington."

He thought about it for a moment. "The Russians won't go for it. More importantly, nothing extraordinarily violent is happening here right now. There is no impetus for international intervention."

"That's exactly what I told the Secretary," she said.

"How did she react to that?"

"Let's just say that Secretary Anderson and I have a significant difference in opinion on how to handle the situation in Kosovo."

"What do you think the U.S. should do?" he asked.

Without hesitating, she said, "We should cooperate with Milosevic to disband the KLA. The Mission could continue to patrol Kosovo to ensure the police aren't terrorizing civilians or utilizing unusual methods to contain the KLA. We should work within the existing security framework here in Kosovo to help keep the peace."

He was silent. She asked, "What do _you_ think we should do?"

"I'm not sure," he admitted. "Unless sweeping political changes improve the quality of life for Kosovar Albanians in the province, I don't think we'll ever see real peace here."

They sat in silence, contemplating the future of Kosovo. The band had moved on to "Penny Lane," and Kate found herself for a moment distracted, wondering if any of the students here in the tavern would ever know a life under suburban skies.

She brought her attention back to the man sitting across the tiny table from her. "Your turn to tell me something interesting about yourself, Captain Davis."

# Chapter 16

"I was a stock broker in New York before I became an Army lieutenant. One of the partners at the firm asked me to join a select team of analysts who managed the portfolios of the firm's executives. The partner informed me that my new job would be to uncover company buyout plans before they became public so that our firm could purchase shares of the takeover company before the sale was announced.

"What I had been asked to do was borderline illegal. Without a second thought, I quit. A few months later I joined the Army and took a field assignment in Bosnia at the height of the war. A girl in Sarajevo taught me Serbo-Croatian, which greatly improved my understanding of the situation in Bosnia."

"Ah, the girlfriend you don't want to talk about," Kate teased, taking a sip of her drink. "That's a pretty radical career change, from stock broker to soldier," she said.

"The jobs weren't that dissimilar, really. I used to study financial patterns and trends, and now I study military and political trends. I enjoy research."

Kate asked, "What was Bosnia like during the war?"

A pensive look clouded his face. "When I arrived in Sarajevo, I remember thinking the war was inevitable. The media made us believe that the Serbs, Croats and Muslims had hated each other for centuries, and that peace in the region was an impossibility.

"I saw things much differently in Sarajevo. People got along with their neighbors regardless of religion or ethnicity. Local politicians propagated the notion of ethnic hatred to strengthen their own power bases, but most people understood that the rhetoric was ridiculous.

"Then the framers of the 1995 Dayton Accords carved up Bosnia as if they were separating battling kids into different corners of a room. And when the international community refused to include a discussion of the future of Kosovo in the peace accords, the Kosovar Albanians were incensed. They had fully expected the United States to support their desire to cede from Yugoslavia.

"The rise in popularity of the insurgent KLA should have been of no surprise to anyone. The Kosovar Albanians felt as if the international community had deserted them. The people had no choice but to support the KLA, who was poised and ready to fight violently for independence from Belgrade.

"In June I left Bosnia to join the Kosovo Diplomatic Observer Mission, the predecessor to our Kosovo Verification Mission. I'll remain here monitoring the October cease fire agreement between the Serb police and the KLA until there's real peace, or, more likely, until there is war."

"I hope you're wrong," she said, unsmiling.

"Me, too," he said. They finished their drinks. "I'll walk you back to your hotel," he offered.

# Chapter 17

She held the pub door open for him. "Where is your place?" she asked.

"A few blocks from the Hotel Ambassador. I became good friends with a _Der Spiegel_ journalist shortly after I arrived in Pristina last summer, and he offered me his spare room."

He continued, "My journalist friend Gunter is the reason for our patrol tomorrow morning. He called me this afternoon from Stimlje, a small town south of Pristina near the Macedonian border. He wanted to know what the Mission was doing in the nearby hill town of Racak.

"I told him that we hadn't had any patrols in Racak for months, as we believed the town to be deserted. In September fighting between the KLA and the police erupted, driving civilians down into the nearby town of Stimlje and up into the cloak of the forested mountains. Gunter insisted he saw our very own Director Watson there earlier today. I told him I'd check things out first thing in the morning."

They stopped at an intersection. She asked, "What would Watson be doing in Racak?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. It's not unusual for him to be absent from the office for days."

As they crossed the street, Luke said, "Many locals- both Serb and Albanian- believe our Verification Mission is a front for the CIA, and that we're here to train and arm the KLA for a ground war against the Serbs."

"That's ridiculous," Kate said.

"It sounds like a paranoid Serb delusion, but the truth is, the climate in the office has changed since Joe Watson took command about a month ago. Watson acts independently, almost secretively."

They rounded a corner. She spotted the Hotel Ambassador sign up ahead. She remembered another question she wanted to ask him before they parted ways. "What did you see in the hotel last night that disturbed you?"

He laughed. "It was nothing."

She smiled. "I guess we all have our secrets. Thanks for the drink."

"See you tomorrow," he said, and he turned and walked away.

She opened the hotel door, appreciating the radiating warmth from the fireplace in the lobby. As she climbed the stairs, she thought about how glad she was that Luke had not asked more questions about her dad. It seemed as if her father, the person with whom she was closest, had been keeping secrets from her. If that were true, then how could she ever trust anyone?

# Chapter 18

They left Pristina at sunrise, venturing south on the M2 highway toward Stimlje. The seats of the Humvee were cold. The Army had not purchased Humvees with soldiers' comfort in mind, Kate mused.

Luke said, "Gunter mentioned that he and another reporter had spent the last few days camping in the forest above Racak. They were covering a routine firefight between the KLA and the police in the abandoned town. When the fight dissolved two days ago, the other journalist went back to Stimlje, and Gunter stayed at the campsite that night by himself. As Gunter was packing up the site the following morning, he said he heard men talking. He said that about fifty feet in front of him were four men near a gravel road, and one of them was Watson."

Kate asked, "How could he be so sure that it was Watson? Fifty feet is a good distance, and Gunter's visibility would have also likely been hampered by trees and shadows in the woods."

He nodded his head, keeping his eyes on the road. "I offered the same skepticism. I told him he must be mistaken, but he insisted it was Watson. He said he would have recognized Watson's hat anywhere."

"I know that wooly hat, with the goofy yarn ball on top," Kate remarked. "You'd think a media professional would advise him to remove such a strange accessory during his press briefings."

Luke nodded. "Gunter said he was too far away to hear what the men were saying. After fifteen minutes Watson and one man got into a jeep and drove way. The other two men remained. Gunter ascertained that they were KLA, because they were carrying AK-47s. Gunter said he then walked two miles down to Stimlje to call me. After I told him I didn't know what he was talking about, he said that he was going back up the hill to investigate."

She thought about the soldiers in the forest with their AK-47s. "Do you ever wish we could carry guns to protect ourselves?"

"Every time I'm out here," he said. "It's hardly fair that everybody else in this lawless country brandishes weapons except the people trying to keep the peace."

They had been passing mostly farmland until now, when Kate noticed the homes spaced closer together. They were nearing Stimlje. They rode in silence through Stimlje and then up the narrow road to Racak. In the dead of winter, the trees were bare, the sky gray and dreary. As they climbed higher, the road became bumpier. Kate found herself hoping that they wouldn't run into anybody with AK-47s off this beaten path.

# Chapter 19

Through Racak they drove, past homes and shops in the vacant village center. Kate wondered how many families were surviving in the woods this brutally cold winter to avoid gunfire exchanges between the Serb police and the KLA. Luke seemed to read her mind. "You can tell by the lack of smoke emanating from chimneys that the town is mostly deserted," he said. He pointed to an unpaved path leading up to the forest, above the town. "Let's try that gravel road," he suggested.

The Humvee managed the primitive road well. When they reached the end of the path, Luke said, "This could be the area Gunter described. He said he saw four men near a gravel road."

Kate climbed out of the Humvee, walking around the front of the vehicle to join Luke on his side. Her eyes caught sight of something in the ditch. She moved closer to take a look as Luke closed the Humvee door. She stopped in her tracks, unable to breathe.

She felt his presence right behind her. He must see what I see, she thought. The pair stood transfixed on the sight in the ravine. She felt Luke gently grab her arm, steadying her.

He turned to face her, his voice calm and purposeful. "I'm going to get the camera from the Humvee. Take as many photos as you can. Begin here, where we are right now, and just keep shooting until you get to the end of the ravine a few yards down. I'll take notes while you're taking pictures. Later we can match your photos to my notes to put together the whole story." He looked intently at her. "Do you understand?"

She nodded. He released his grasp from her arm. He handed her the camera, and she got right to work, snapping pictures at varying angles and proximities for different perspectives. She was grateful that he had taken control, and that she had been ordered to do something productive. She tried to think of the dead bodies she was photographing as images to capture with the camera, and nothing else.

As she changed out the roll of film, he started counting the bodies. "In Bosnia I saw lots of corpses," he said, speaking in her direction, his gaze still focused on the gully. "But I've never seen anything like this. It's as if the bodies were purposely placed in the ravine. Usually the dead are piled haphazardly on top of each other in shallow graves."

Luke continued, "Most of the bodies appear to be young men, probably either KLA or Serb police. I'm not seeing any shell casings, and the brush around the ravine isn't disrupted, which suggests the fight didn't happen right here. The bodies must have been moved here from somewhere else." He kneeled close to two corpses lying side by side. "The wounds are located in different parts of the bodies, and only a few have bullet holes in their heads, which suggests these people were not executed."

Kate commented, "I don't think they were soldiers, though. Look at the clothes they're wearing. Nobody is in KLA camouflage, and nobody is dressed in police uniforms."

Kate glanced at Luke, who was taking furious notes. He stopped writing and looked up at her. "That's a good point. Here's something else that's noteworthy: nobody is wearing a coat. They are all dressed in overalls, and it's the dead of Kosovo winter."

Kate offered, "Maybe they were killed inside, and then their bodies were moved outside, or perhaps the murderers took their coats."

"Would you take the coat off a person you were about to murder, or even worse, a person you just killed?" he asked.

"Perhaps, if I'm desperate to survive the cold of winter," she said.

She returned to snapping photos of the scene, wondering who these men in the ravine were. She heard a noise rustling behind her, across the dirt road. She froze. Her first thought was paranoid, that the killers were right behind her, and they would be greatly displeased that she and Luke had discovered the crime scene. She gripped the camera and contemplated an exit route. If the assailant had a gun, she would jump into the ravine and roll down the hill; suffering a few broken bones would be better than getting shot. She stood there for what felt like hours, willing herself to turn around, toward the rustling noise. Before she could muster the strength, she heard a familiar voice.

"Nice day for a walk in the woods," the voice said.

# Chapter 20

"What are you doing here, Harris?" Luke asked.

"I should ask you the same, Captain Davis."

Luke glared at Harris, waiting for him to explain his presence. Harris said, "One of the Racak villagers stumbled upon this grave site and reported it to Joe Watson yesterday afternoon. Joe asked me to come with him this morning to assist in investigating the site. Joe is down in Stimlje now, preparing for a press briefing."

"You and Director Watson were here at the site earlier this morning?" Luke asked. "None of the standard crime scene precautions have been taken. For example, the area isn't properly cordoned."

Harris said, "There's no need for such formality. This crime scene speaks for itself. The Serb police went on a shooting rampage, killing a bunch of Albanian farmers. If this isn't genocide, I don't know what is."

Luke turned to Kate. "Did you finish photographing the scene?"

She said, "I have a few more pictures to take at the far end of the ravine." She tried to shake off the creepy feeling that surfaced every time she was around Harris. She got back to work, focusing the camera lens on a headless corpse. She willed herself to avoid thinking about how the body used to belong to a real person, somebody who once breathed and laughed and lived.

She inhaled the putrid aroma of death. The awful smell of decomposition surprised her; she expected it to have been absent in the cold of January. She breathed through her mouth to avoid gagging.

Luke asked Harris, "Why are you up here, while Director Watson is back in Stimlje preparing for the media event?"

"Joe was worried that reporters would fight to be the first ones at the site, to break the story before we get to tell the world what we've discovered. I'm here to keep the reporters at bay."

Luke asked, "You said the informant was a Racak villager. What was the informant doing when he or she stumbled upon the bodies?"

"Why don't you and Ms. Bennett take your Humvee back down to the town center where the press release will begin shortly? You'll hear all of the details then."

Luke shrugged his shoulders. Turning to Kate, Luke said, "He's got control of the site. There's nothing further for us to do up here." They climbed into the Humvee and descended back down the gravel path toward the center of town.

"Harris wanted us out of there in a hurry," Kate commented.

"I agree. Something is very wrong. The mass grave site is strange, and what's more unbelievable is how many protocols were breached at the crime scene. Watson should know better. The Serb police are going to counter any accusation Watson throws at them with the suggestion that the crime scene was manipulated or violated, and I don't know how Watson's going to respond to that. This will severely injure the Mission's credibility."

They reached the town center and parked on a side street. The town was still deserted. Luke suggested, "While we're waiting for the press briefing to commence, let's try to track down Gunter. If he came back up to Racak after he called me yesterday, then he must have seen what we just saw, and he certainly wouldn't have headed back to Pristina after that. Harris said he knew about the crime scene yesterday afternoon, which means the people in the ravine have been dead at least a day, and probably longer, given the decomposition of the bodies."

Something about what Luke said unsettled her, but she couldn't put her finger on it. As they walked around the small hill town, Kate noticed pock marks on the buildings where bullets had riddled the mortar. The firefights here must have been intense, she thought, considering the damage done to the buildings.

"I don't see Gunter's jeep here in town," Luke noted. "Let's walk back up into the forest to see if we can find his camp site." Instead of taking the gravel path road to the crime scene, they headed directly into the woods on the opposite side of the ravine.

After combing through the first line of trees, Kate looked up, noticing the thickness of the canopy above them. She listened, but she heard nothing more than the crunch of their boots on the pine-needled ground. Luke stopped. Instinctively, she paused, too. She noticed what Luke had seen: a small green tent.

"Hello?" Luke called out. They stood still. If this wasn't Gunter's tent, then who was living up here, and what were the chances that this person did not have a gun?

Luke stepped back a few feet to where Kate was standing. He said quietly, "Either the tent is empty, or somebody inside is being very quiet and doesn't want to be found. If somebody's in there and we open the tent, there's a good chance we could get shot."

Kate nodded. "What if we threw a rock at the tent? Then we could observe a reaction to the thrown rock at a safe distance."

"That's a good idea," he said. They scanned the forest floor. Luke found an oblong rock, about the size of a brick.

She hoped nobody was in the tent. Luke noticed her apprehension. "This was your idea," he said. "Do you still want to do it?"

"Yes," she said, ready to run if things got ugly.

Luke raised the rock above and behind his shoulder, as if he were throwing a football. The rock soared through the air. She watched the heavy missile buckle the nylon tent.

"It hit the floor." she said. "I didn't see any movement."

They approached the tent. As Luke reached down to pick the rock off the tent, the tent sprang back to its original shape. He unzipped the door. They bent down and looked inside. "You were right," he said. "It's empty."

"The tent hasn't been here too long," she noted. "If somebody had been living out here in the woods for a while, the tent would be dirtier."

She heard something. She lifted her head up higher to listen. "It sounds like somebody is speaking into a microphone," she said.

"I hear it, too. It's coming from the town center."

They hustled out of the woods. Kate spied a flurry of activity down the hill in the city center, in what had been only ten minutes ago a deserted town.

Joe Watson was at a makeshift podium, with four microphones in front of him. Journalists were setting up their equipment in front of the podium.

"Come on," she said to Luke, pointing down at Watson. "It's show time."

# Chapter 21

They stood behind the reporters, waiting for Watson to begin. Watson shifted his feet, looking down at his notes. He cleared his throat and began to speak.

"In a gully above the village, we discovered a pile of bodies riddled with bullet holes. This scene is very much a crime against humanity. The Yugoslav government must be held accountable for such an atrocity. These innocent people did not deserve to die like this." He paused, looked up once, and then returned his focus to his paper.

"We called in one of the most reputable forensic scientists available, Dr. Eleanor Randall, to evaluate the crime scene. A disaster of this magnitude requires a specialist to confirm what happened. Although her official report is not yet ready for public consumption, Dr. Randall revealed that the victims are unarmed civilians, and based on the bullet trajectories, they appear to have been killed at close range near the site where their bodies were discovered."

Watson folded his paper and looked up at his audience. "We don't have time to field questions at this time; however, I will escort you, as privileged members of the media, to the crime scene, to take photos and video footage."

Luke whispered, "Gunter's not here. Let's ask the other reporters if anybody has seen him."

As Watson stepped away from the podium, Harris popped up next to Kate, seemingly out of nowhere. The reporters walked uphill in a group, with Watson leading the way. Luke engaged a journalist, while Kate and Harris walked behind the group.

Kate asked, "Why would Dr. Randall say that the victims had been killed near the scene of where their bodies were found? Luke and I didn't find any bullet shell casings in the area."

He rolled his eyes. "Now you and Captain America are crime scene experts? Dr. Randall is a noteworthy forensic scientist. I think she probably knows what she's talking about."

Kate remained cool, but she pressed on. "So why didn't we see any casings, then? Who would have taken them?"

Harris looked at her. "I'm sure the casings are there. You and Davis were only at the scene a short time. You weren't able to cover every inch of the gully. And you didn't move any of the bodies, right? So the casings are probably underneath."

She shivered. How long had he been watching them at the crime scene?

Harris continued, "You're missing the big picture, anyway. You don't even seem to care that we discovered an act of genocide here. This is the galvanizing incident to push international support for NATO intervention in this worthless country. NATO has been ready to attack for months, and now the Serbs have given us a golden opportunity to get this war started so that we can end it all and finally go home."

They reached the crime scene. Kate rejoined Luke, relieved to rid herself of Harris's company.

"What do you find out?" she asked Luke quietly.

"I met the journalist who was with Gunter covering the firefight here in Racak two days ago. He agreed to meet us down in Stimlje after he's finished taking photos of the crime scene."

Kate looked up and noticed Harris staring at them. Another chill ran down her spine. "This is a good lead," she said quietly, her eyes fixed on Harris. "Let's get moving."

# Chapter 22

Luke parked the Humvee outside of a pub on the edge of Stimlje. As he held open the heavy wooden door, she felt the rush of warm air inviting her inside, away from the bitter cold. Once inside she noticed four men, two in their early twenties and two in their fifties, playing cards and smoking cigarettes at the back table. Kate wondered if the older men were the fathers of the younger men. They all looked similar, with tousled hair, dark eyes and sullen expressions.

The bartender leaned on his bar, watching a portable black-and-white TV. He glanced at Kate briefly as she and Luke entered, and then his attention reverted back to the television program.

"This bar is closest to the road to Racak and is most likely the place where Gunter phoned me. Let's go talk to the bartender," Luke said.

The bartender watched them as they approached. Luke spoke in Albanian. "An espresso for me, please."

"Make that two," Kate said.

"Make that three," Luke added. To Kate he said, "For our guest, who should be arriving soon."

The bartender nodded, setting to work on fulfilling their order. When he turned back to face the pair, Luke handed him ten Yugoslav dinars, a more than generous payment for three _tazas_ of coffee. The bartender looked at the money.

"We're looking for a friend. He's German, almost two meters tall. Stocky build, blond hair."

Kate thought that description had to have been sufficient. How many Germans did the bartender run into every day in this little town?

The bartender looked Luke straight in the eyes, a glare that conveyed without words that they would be better off leaving the bar that very instant than ask any more questions.

"He was here yesterday," the bartender said flatly.

"Was he alone?"

"Yes. He used the toilet, drank a beer at the bar, and then he left."

"What time was he here?" Luke asked.

"Around sixteen hundred hours."

"Did he say anything to you?"

"No." The bartender said simply, signaling the end of the conversation.

The pair chose a small round table near the bar and sat down. A cool breeze wafted over them as a tall, thin man entered the establishment. He walked briskly over to their table. As he neared them, his pace slowed.

He offered a nod and a smile to Luke, and then he extended a hand to Kate. "Jacques Montblanc. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Kate liked Jacques immediately. His face was bright, his grip firm. He joined them at the table. Jacques spotted the third espresso. "Merci," he said.

"The bartender confirmed that Gunter was here yesterday at sixteen hundred hours," Luke said. "This may be the last place Gunter was seen."

Jacques nodded, his brow furrowed. He sipped his bitter drink.

Luke said, "What did you and Gunter see the last two days in Racak?"

Jacques sighed. "This is what is so disturbing about Director Watson's press release. Gunter and I were right there in the area, and we didn't see anything out of the ordinary. There was no unusual violence during the firefight that we were covering between the KLA and the police. It was quiet in and around the village."

"What were the two of you doing in Racak?"

"Last week the KLA killed four policemen in Stimlje. The _Le Monde_ chief of station sent me here to cover the story. Gunter was here from _Der Spiegel_ for the same purpose. Together he and I interviewed some locals about the growing number of skirmishes in the area. The general consensus among the people with whom we spoke was that the next fight would happen up in Racak, where a KLA contingent had set up a temporary southern base in the abandoned town. Somebody said they had heard gunfire near Racak the day prior, so Gunter and I left Stimlje to investigate. We set up camp in the woods at the top of the town.

"In Racak we watched the KLA come and go for a few days. We counted about twenty soldiers occupying one of the abandoned homes in the village. There really isn't much to tell about the firefight we witnessed. On the day the Serb police advanced through the main corridor of the town, the KLA were in the woods above the village, directly across the ravine from our campsite. The KLA shot from the hills at the police in the town, attempting an ambush that was unsurprisingly ineffective. Their gunfire drove the police into the woods above the village in pursuit of the snipers.

"Over the course of the next day, we watched intermittent exchanges of gunfire from across the ravine. After it had been quiet for a span of about six hours, we concluded the fight was over. We didn't see the KLA return to Racak and surmised they had fled through the woods to safer places elsewhere.

"I went back to Stimlje that evening to check in with my editor and write my report. Gunter decided to camp out the additional night and then head straight back to Pristina the next morning. Neither he nor I was worried for our safety, as we hadn't seen anybody up on the hill for a while. We parted ways, and that was it." Jacques shook his head. "It never occurred to me that something could have happened to Gunter, until you were asking about him today."

The group of men at the back of the bar got up to leave. Kate noticed they were carrying rifles. They exchanged words with the bartender that Kate could not discern. The bartender nodded.

Jacques continued. "What troubles me most about Director Watson's revelation today is that a Serb massacre of Albanian farmers doesn't fit with our observations. We didn't see any civilians in Racak the few days that we were there, and now there are forty bodies in a mass grave near the village. Where did all of these people come from? The bodies were not yet decomposed, which means they had not been there for months. And yet there were hardly any civilians in this area. It doesn't make sense."

The three were silent for a moment. Kate wondered if Luke was going to share any of their suspicions about the mass grave site with Jacques. She certainly was not going to offer unsolicited information to a reporter.

Jacques asked, "Why did Gunter phone you yesterday?"

Luke said, "He called to find out what Director Watson was doing in Racak. I told him that there were no official patrols in the area, and that I'd drive down here to investigate the situation myself this morning."

Jacques asked, "What was Director Watson doing in Racak yesterday?"

"I don't know," Luke said.

Jacques said, "We need to find out what Gunter knows. I'm going back to my hotel room to submit what I've got so far to _Le Monde_. Then I'll call _Der Spiegel_ to see if they've heard from Gunter."

Kate asked Jacques, "Is Gunter's tent green?"

"Yes," he said. "Why do you ask?"

She said, "We stumbled across a pitched but empty green tent up in the forest, in the area across the ravine."

"It could be his tent," Jacques said, "which gives us a clue that he didn't go back to Pristina." Jacques paused a moment. "If Gunter is out there in the woods, I'm sure he's fine. I used to joke with him that he was a Marine disguised as a journalist, since he wasn't gaunt like the rest of us. We just have to wait until he decides to turn up."

Jacques handed Luke a card from his pocket. "Here is the number to the _Le Monde_ station in Pristina. Please call me if you find out anything about Gunter."

"And you, the same," Luke said. "Here is our number at the Verification Mission."

They passed the bartender on their way out. Kate offered a polite smile. He looked right at her, the same frown on his worn face. This time, though, Kate thought she saw pity in his gaze. She wondered why he would have looked at her that way. He turned away abruptly and headed toward the back of the bar.

At the Humvee Luke turned to Kate. "It's not that far back to Pristina, but it's already dark, and I'm in no hurry to get back. I wouldn't mind nosing around here a little more tomorrow morning, if you're willing to stay the night here in Stimlje."

"I'm up for anything," she said. Returning to Pristina to investigate what her dad had been up to would have to take a back seat to finding out what happened to the missing reporter, and to resolving the strange circumstances surrounding the forty bodies in the ravine.

# Chapter 23

The couple walked through the glass front doors into the pristine lobby of Hotel Stimlje. The desk clerk glanced in their direction. Was the woman distressed, or perhaps simply inconvenienced, by their presence? Or maybe everybody in this town was wary of outsiders?

When they reached their rooms, Luke said, "Let's meet at seven tomorrow morning in the lobby. We can head back up to Racak to do a final sweep of the area before returning to Pristina."

"That's a good plan," she said, inserting the hotel room key into the keyhole. "See you tomorrow."

As she climbed into bed, she thought about what an unbelievable day it had been. As she tried to make sense of things, she drifted off to sleep.

The cold breeze across her face woke her. She opened her eyes and saw that her window was wide open. She lay completely still, terrified. She heard rustling behind her, between the hotel room door and her bed. She tried to breathe softly, in a relaxed manner, to simulate the sound of still being asleep. She squeezed her eyes shut.

Every second felt like an eternity. The intruder crept closer to the bed. _Do something_ , she screamed in her head. She tried to open her mouth, to yell for help, but she could not move a muscle. This was it, she thought.

Then she heard the window close. Was the intruder still in the room? She strained to listen for the slightest evidence of movement. She waited for what she thought was ten minutes. She decided that, as fast as she could, she would make a run for it.

In one burst she threw the covers off, leaped out of bed, bolted to the door, and hurriedly unlocked it. She flung the door open. It slammed into the wall in the hallway. She lunged out and banged on Luke's door.

"Luke, open up. Please!" She knocked continuously on his door, hoping this would hurry him. If he didn't answer within the next five seconds, then she would run down the hall and into the lobby for help.

His door opened. He rubbed his eyes. "What's going on?" he muttered.

"Somebody came into my room through the window, rummaged through my bag, and left."

"Are you all right?" he asked, suddenly wide awake. He looked down the hallway, to the left and then to the right.

"Yeah, I guess," she said shakily.

"Whatever they wanted, Kate, they weren't after you. They probably were looking for stuff to steal. Let's go back into your room to see what's missing."

"No, I don't want to go back in there," she said quickly. "Let's go down to the lobby and call the police." She knew he was right, that if the intruder had been after her, that she wouldn't be standing in the hallway at that moment. But she still felt vulnerable, knowing somebody had been in her room while she was sleeping.

He said, "All right." He pulled his head and arms through the brown Army t-shirt that had been draped over a chair the moment prior. "Let's go meet the Stimlje police. This should be interesting."

# Chapter 24

The policeman arrived quickly. He introduced himself in English as Captain Jan Marchak, the police chief of Stimlje. He was short and stocky, with the same frown that the bartender and the hotel receptionist bore.

Luke spoke Serbo-Croatian well, which seemed to please Captain Marchak greatly. They continued their conversation in Serbo-Croatian as they walked back down the corridor to Kate's room.

"What are you doing in Stimlje?" Marchak asked.

"My colleague and I drove from Pristina this morning to conduct a routine Verification Mission patrol of Racak," Luke said.

Marchak noted, "Your director has been staying here at this hotel on and off for a few weeks now. I had wondered what he was doing, until I saw the news this evening about the mass grave site that was discovered this afternoon."

Marchak paused, as if he were waiting for a response. Luke said nothing. They reached Kate's door, and Marchak turned to face Luke.

Marchak said. "Last week the KLA crime boss in town was seen driving around in a brand new jeep, his henchmen brandishing shiny new rifles. It's no secret that your Mission is arming and equipping the KLA." Marchak narrowed his eyes. "My guess is that your director worked with the KLA to stage the mass grave site in Racak."

Luke responded coolly. "Captain Marchak, I assure you the Mission is not arming the KLA. If anything, the Mission is pro-police, to keep the peace. Nobody wants Kosovo to cede from Yugoslavia; the Mission just wants to stop the fighting."

Marchak laughed. "If you truly believe that, you are naive."

Marchak used Kate's key to open the door. He turned on the light and walked around the room. "What happened?" he asked Kate in English.

"Somebody entered my room through the window, rummaged through my bag, and exited back out through the window."

"Was the window locked when you went to sleep?" Marchak asked.

"I don't know," Kate admitted. "I didn't check the latch."

Marchak asked, "Is anything missing?"

Kate shrugged. "We called you before returning to the room to check things out."

Marchak lifted Kate's backpack and placed it on the bed. He gestured to her to reveal the contents.

She frowned. "My cash and travelers checks are still here, but the camera and the rolls of film I took this afternoon in Racak are missing."

Marchak said, "If the thief left everything else, then he must have been after your film."

She shook her head. "Why would anybody want our pictures? Watson granted the media full access to the crime scene this afternoon. What we witnessed this morning was what CNN viewers saw only hours later."

Marchak shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know why anybody would want your film," he said, "but I will ask around a bit, and I'll call you if I find out anything." Marchak departed.

Kate sat down on her bed. "Did we see something at the grave site that nobody else did?"

Luke sat down next to her, tapping his fingertips on the bedspread as he recollected the scene. He shook his head. "I don't think it's possible, given the short time frame between when we took our pictures and when the media took theirs. And Harris was up there protecting the site in the interim."

He stood up. "Let's head back to Pristina first thing tomorrow morning. Back in the office we can review all of the media footage of the mass grave site. Maybe we'll see something on their film that we don't remember seeing in person. We can compare my notes against the media footage to look for discrepancies."

He was about to go, and she felt uneasy. "Maybe we should stick together the rest of the night," she said.

"That's a smart idea. You can have my bed. I'll grab your pillows and blankets from this room and sleep on the floor."

Back in his room, she sat on the end of the bed as he untied his boots and took off his socks. "It's nice of you to let me crash here. I'll take the floor," she offered.

He looked up at her. "That's okay. A pillow and a blanket on a carpeted floor is a luxurious sleeping arrangement in the Army. Thanks for the offer, though."

She turned over and reached for the switch on the bedside lamp, wondering if she would be able to fall asleep after such a turbulent day.

# Chapter 25

On the drive back to Pristina the next morning, Kate said, "It's got to be tough for you, not knowing what happened to your friend Gunter."

"If he's alive, we'll find him."

"Are you going to ask Watson what he was doing in Stimlje two days ago?" she asked.

"I don't know. I'm not sure how much we should let on to Watson that we think something fishy is going on. I don't trust him, and we may have more freedom to investigate if he doesn't consider us a threat to whatever he might be up to."

She noticed pinks and oranges spreading over the hills in the distance as the sun rose. Luke said, "You know, Marchak's hypothesis about the KLA staging Racak isn't too farfetched. NATO has been discussing air strikes for quite a while, and the KLA has made it known that they'd be glad to be the ground force to augment NATO's air attack. An incendiary incident like Racak could be the spark to get this war started."

Kate said, "I agree. General Willis intimated that expediting a war in Kosovo is better in the long run, so that the killing doesn't drag on for years like it did in Bosnia. A brief and effective NATO bombing campaign could do just that, and Secretary Anderson could have her post-Cold War _raison d'etre_ for NATO."

Luke said, "But everybody seems to be forgetting one important point: that supporting the KLA will ultimately destabilize Kosovo. The KLA are a band of thugs, and if this war happens, we'll see a black market explosion in Kosovo. It will be current chaos times a million. Legitimizing the KLA by fighting with them against Milosevic would be a grave disaster to long-term peace and security in Kosovo. "

They were silent for a while. Kate looked out her window as they passed the flat expanse between Stimlje and Pristina. She felt anxious that the U.S. might advocate a war based on a falsified massacre, a great untruth. She also felt nervous about the prospect of being swept onto the battleground of Kosovo right before the war cry would be sounded.

They parked the Humvee outside of the Mission office in Pristina. As they entered the office, Kate spied Harris reclining at a desk near the door, his feet propped on the edge of the desk.

"Where have you lovebirds been?" Harris asked.

Luke ignored the comment. "Did you get your Racak report completed?"

"Yes, sir. It's in your e-mail inbox."

"Good. I'm sending you out this afternoon with Moriarty for your daily Stari Trg patrol."

Harris snickered. "So, you're hoarding Miss Bennett all to yourself now? I was just kidding about the lovebird thing before, but you two should really be a little more discreet about your romance. Showing up together, hours late for work, is quite unprofessional."

Kate fumed. She hated being accused of impropriety.

Harris grinned and stood. "Come on, Moriarty," he called to an observer across the room. "It looks like you have the pleasure of touring the Kosovo Alps with me today."

# Chapter 26

After Harris and Moriarty left, Kate approached Luke at his desk. All of the other observers were out on patrol, and Watson was gone.

"Pull up a chair," he said. "I'll load 'Breaking News' footage of the mass grave discovery from the CNN website. We can review the video clip in slow motion, looking for something that seems different than what we remember seeing."

They reviewed and re-reviewed the footage, noticing nothing unusual. "Let's examine your notebook," Kate suggested.

Luke recounted his notes aloud. "Most of the forty-four victims were covered by multiple wounds from different angles and elevations, characteristic of a firefight rather than a close-range execution. One victim appeared to have been shot at close range. This victim was lying face down in the pile with a bullet hole in the back of his head. One victim was headless, which could possibly indicate mutilation, or it could be that the head disconnected from the decaying body during transport, if the victim had been dead a while."

He continued, "All of the bodies appear to be men, except for one, a female with long matted hair wearing a Muslim head covering. We discovered no evidence of torture. We found no shell casings at the site, indicating the firefight occurred elsewhere. The bodies were all dressed in farm clothes, and none of the victims were wearing overcoats."

He closed his notebook. "Based on what we saw in the gully, I believe the victims were soldiers killed in a firefight that occurred elsewhere, and the bodies were planted there in the trench to be discovered by the international community."

Kate peered intently at the video footage, picking up a detail she had missed before. "I saw the body of the woman you mentioned, and I saw the victim in the pile with the bullet in the back of his head, but I didn't see the headless guy. And I do remember him, too. After Harris startled us, you had asked me if I had gotten all of the photos we needed, and I went back to snap a few extra of the headless corpse. That's when I noticed the rotting smell. I only noticed the stench there, near the end of the line, by the headless guy."

Luke restarted the video. He stared closely at the screen. "You're right. He's not there." He pointed at the screen. "He had been on top of that pile. Remember how the bodies were lined up on one side, and then by the end of the other side, they were sloppily piled? He was on top of the heap. You discovered the discrepancy."

Kate said excitedly, "Harris was the only person near the ravine after you and I had been there and before the media arrived. Could he have moved the body? And if so, why?"

They spent the next hour writing their report, documenting what they had witnessed, noting the oddities. Every once in a while Kate stole a glance at Luke. She enjoyed working with him. She liked being around somebody as dedicated to his job as she was to hers. Luke seemed more alive than her other colleagues, more engaged. When she went back to Washington in a few weeks, she thought, she would be grateful to have met him.

# Chapter 27

They uploaded the completed report into the secure intelligence database. Stretching his arms up and outward, Luke said, "I need a break. May I walk you back to your hotel? After a bit of fresh air I'll be ready to attack all of the backlogged observer reports in my e-mail inbox from yesterday."

It was late afternoon, the sky pink with the setting sun. As they walked, he said, "You know, our report is going to turn heads in Washington. Our assessment completely contradicts what our supervisor told the media." Chuckling, he added, "I predict you get fired for insubordination, and I get a disorderly conduct discharge from the Army. I suppose it's too late to wonder now if it was all worth it."

She said, "If we're going to war, so be it. But everybody has a right to know the truth, and that it's not as cut and dry as Watson had proclaimed. Publishing our report was simply the right thing— the only thing— we could have done. We can manage the fallout tomorrow." She would not permit herself more than a cursory acknowledgment that their report might change the course of their professional lives so swiftly, so detrimentally.

They reached the Hotel Ambassador. Through the lobby window Kate recognized the Secretary of State on the television. She frowned. "Come with me inside for a minute to see what Secretary Anderson is saying." They stepped inside the lobby to watch the broadcast.

The Secretary stated, "The Kosovo Verification Mission director found dozens of people with their throats slit yesterday, their bodies thrown haphazardly into a ditch. The international community will not sit back and allow Milosevic to commit crimes against humanity in Kosovo like he did in Bosnia. Tomorrow we begin preparations for a conference in Munich to bring together Serb and KLA leaders to acquiesce to a peace agreement. If the terms of the agreement we are brokering between the two parties cannot be met, then our NATO planes are ready to follow through with airstrikes. Thank you."

Kate felt her blood pressure spike. She spit out quietly, "'Throats slit?' Where did she get that? Even Watson didn't say anything like that."

Luke said, "There have to be at least a few good intelligence analysts in Washington who will read our report and question the information that's being fed to the media. If Secretary Anderson is orchestrating a peace conference in Munich, then we have at least a week before the bombs start dropping. Get some rest, Kate. Tomorrow is our day of reckoning."

# Chapter 28

As she watched him leave the Hotel Ambassador, Kate's stomach rumbled. They had been so preoccupied with writing and posting their Racak report in the intelligence database that she hadn't thought once about eating all day.

Going out for food was a good excuse to act. She was frustrated by Secretary Anderson's press briefing, and the fresh air would help clear her mind. She remembered hearing Luke speak highly of an Albanian restaurant a few blocks away called Taverna. She walked briskly down the street filled with a sense of purpose, in search of food.

She found the place to be exactly what she was looking for. It was crowded with young people, most likely students from nearby Pristina University. She welcomed the noise. She took a seat at the end of the bar and ordered a burger and a beer.

She hadn't realized how thirsty she had been until she sipped the lukewarm beer and found it perfectly satisfying. She surveyed the room, noticing people eating and drinking and laughing and smoking cigarettes as if a huge war wasn't looming in their near future.

She ordered a second beer while she waited for her food to arrive. She didn't notice the man who sat down next to her until he offered a quiet "hello" in English. She smiled politely.

The man was a few years older than she, in his early thirties. His eyes sparkled, and she found his gaze intelligent. He was dressed in a suit, and he was peppered with musky cologne. He didn't seem to fit in with the crowd.

"Whatever it is, it's not that important," he offered in flawless English.

She sighed. "It actually is that important."

"What is this great responsibility of yours?" he asked, a gentle smile on his face. There was something about this man that was attractive, even though he wasn't particularly handsome. It was that he carried himself confidently, Kate noted, and that his voice was calm and soothing, as if his words could make everything better.

Kate offered, "I know something that others don't know, that could adversely impact a lot of people."

"So tell the truth," he suggested.

"I already did. Tomorrow we'll see if anybody notices."

"Then there's nothing to worry about tonight," he said. "Are you a reporter?"

"I work for the Verification Mission," she said. The man seemed trustworthy. She offered her hand. "I'm Kate."

"Hashim," he said.

She peered at him closer. How could she have not recognized this man at first sight?

He noticed her eyes widen. He smiled in appreciation of the recognition.

"Hashim Tanem?" she asked.

He put his hands up, as if he were under arrest. "Only if you're not going to shoot me."

"As a matter of fact, they don't let us carry guns," she said, smiling.

He laughed, extending a handshake. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Kate."

# Chapter 29

"I wouldn't have expected the leader of the KLA to be so accessible to the public," she remarked.

He said, "These are my people, and this tavern is a special place to me. When I was a student at Pristina University many years ago, I came here frequently to exchange ideas with likeminded students about how we could achieve independence from Belgrade. We believed we could make it happen, and now it's actually happening." She smiled politely.

"How do you like Kosovo?" he asked Kate pleasantly, as if he were the host, and Kate were a guest at his party.

"Even in the dead of winter, it's beautiful," she remarked. "It's not exactly what I imagined, though. It's more modern, more European."

"So we Kosovar Albanians are not as backwards as you thought?" he chided.

"No, I didn't mean that. It's just that I've spent almost every waking moment of the last two years of my life studying Kosovo, and I realized when I got here that while I can rattle off the KLA's history from the start, I had no idea that the coffee would be so good, and that cellular phones would be so ubiquitous."

He asked, "What do you think you know about me from your intelligence reports?"

"Are you sure that you want to turn a cordial conversation this way?" she asked.

He nodded. She took a deep breath. "Your _nom de guerre_ is 'The Snake.' You are responsible for securing the KLA's money and guns. When the government of Albania collapsed in 1997, you orchestrated the looting of Albanian military depots for small arms transport across Albania's northeast border. With better weapons, the KLA stepped up its attacks, kidnapping and executing not only Serb officials and their families but suspected ethnic Albanian collaborators." Tanem smiled.

Kate continued, "You advocate NATO intervention in Kosovo. The KLA's weapons and training are no match for the professional Serb paramilitary, and you recognize that. You are open about the KLA's objective, which is to provoke the Serbs to fight. You want to escalate the situation to draw NATO into the conflict. You've mentioned publicly that the ideal scenario for the KLA would be a NATO airstrike to take out Serb targets, with KLA ground forces in place to beat the Serbs back to Belgrade."

Tanem didn't appear the least bit angry by her accusations. He said, "I like your candor, Kate, but you're wrong about the KLA. You have forgotten the reason for our existence. The fate of Kosovo could have been decided peacefully back in 1995, but the international community chose to ignore our province, and we had to take matters into our own hands.

"The Slovenians got their independence without war, and later the Croatians were afforded independence, as well as the Bosnians. Nobody cared about us until we picked up guns, Kate. You didn't give us a choice."

His use of the pronoun "you" made her feel complicit in the political events that transpired in 1995. She surmised that he had selected his words carefully, purposefully.

"What's next, then?" she asked.

He said, "I should be asking you that question. Our fate is inextricably linked to the decisions the West makes."

She said, "You make it sound as if you're only a pawn in this chess game."

"A pawn? No. There is nothing standing in our way of independence now. After a NATO war, we will rule Kosovo, and full independence will follow shortly thereafter. Racak was a great blessing in disguise."

She wanted to know what he knew about Racak. She said, "What if the Racak massacre had been staged? The forensics evidence we collected intimated that the bodies had been killed in a firefight, not execution-style."

He looked at her incredulously. He didn't speak immediately, as if he thought it important to craft the perfect response. Finally he said, "I would extend a handshake to whomever staged such an event. This was the catalyst to start the great war of independence, and for that, the KLA is grateful."

She replied, "But when people find out the truth, what happens to this war that you want so badly to happen?"

"People believe what they want to believe, Kate. Especially when you haven't given them any proof to the contrary. How are you going to surface your theory without discrediting your own Secretary of State? Your government would never allow such an impropriety, and you will end up being the one scorned. Is sacrificing your career worth it?"

Tanem was a good politician, Kate thought. She knew he was right about how difficult it would be to reverse the public's opinion of Racak after what Secretary Anderson had said. Measures would be taken by the U.S. government to protect the credibility of the Secretary of State, the international face of America. Kate looked past Tanem for a moment, thinking that it would be difficult, but not impossible, to change the course of action in Kosovo.

Her gaze returned to Tanem. He doesn't look like the leader of a terrorist organization, she observed. That was good for the KLA, that they had a leader with whom the rest of the world could relate. As she glanced into the crowd, Kate's gaze lingered a moment on a tall, thin woman with long, straight red hair pulled back neatly in a ponytail, sitting at a table near the front entrance of the restaurant.

Kate recognized the striking woman. _What was she doing here?_

Tanem noticed Kate looking past him. "What is it?" he asked.

The woman spotted them. With her head down she stood up, put on her coat, and quickly left the restaurant.

Kate had to speak to the woman. She pulled a few dinars out of her purse to cover the cost of the beer and the hamburger she had not waited to receive, placed it on the bar, and shook Tanem's hand.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Tanem," she said, quickly.

"That was an abrupt ending to a delightful conversation," he said.

"I'm sorry, sir. I don't mean to be rude, but I must go."

She hustled through the crowd and back outside, looking for the woman. The woman must have recognized Kate; how else could her quick exit be explained?

Kate stood for a moment outside the restaurant, wondering what to do next. The woman was gone. Kate peered back into the restaurant window, to try to see with whom the woman was dining before she departed. She saw a lone man at the table who looked familiar, too, but she couldn't place how she recognized him.

Then she spotted Tanem. He had walked back over from the bar and sat down in the chair next to where the woman had been sitting. Tanem was speaking to the other man at the table.

Suddenly Kate recalled the other man's identity from a background brief on the KLA that she had recently read. He was Andrei Corba, Tanem's bodyguard.

Whoever the woman was, she had been dining with Corba and Tanem. The mysterious woman had also been at her father's funeral back in Chicago in December.

Without a doubt, this woman could explain her father's connection to Kosovo. She had to find the red haired woman.

# Chapter 30

"Did you move our report out of the database last night?" Luke asked.

He had seen her arrive, and he had walked briskly up to her, to greet her at the door. He had gotten right to the point, and he sounded anxious.

"No." she replied, as they walked over to his desk together. Suddenly she was worried. "What's going on?"

He stood close to her and spoke softly. "It's gone. I can't find it anywhere. I also can't find the copy I saved to my hard drive."

"What do you mean? Do you think somebody erased it?" she asked.

He said, "It has to be someone with access to this office, if the report is gone from my hard drive."

She sat down at the chair next to his desk. "Well, let's just rewrite the report now. We have the details burned into our memories. It should take us half the time to recreate what we put together yesterday."

He said, "That's what I'm doing right now. I gave up looking for the original report about an hour ago. It's only midnight in Washington right now, so we still have a few hours before the early shift intelligence folks report for duty."

"What can I do?"

"Keep looking for our file. I hope I'm wrong to believe somebody erased it."

"Okay," she said. She walked over to her desk and turned on her computer. She glanced back at Luke, watching him as she waited for her computer to boot up. She took a deep breath.

She had wanted to tell Luke about her meeting with Tanem the evening before, and about the red haired woman, but that would have to wait. If the report was no longer in the database, then what had happened? Did somebody read it, decide it was dangerous, and then delete it? Maybe Tanem was right, that she and Luke would be thwarted in all of their attempts to set the record straight on Racak.

Thirty minutes later, as she was still combing the database for their original report, the short, thin man stormed into the office. It was the first time she had seen him since the press briefing. He was wearing his signature hat, with the childlike tassel on top. He looked angry.

"Captain Davis, a moment, please." His announcement was loud, as if he had wanted everybody to notice him summoning Luke.

"Yes, sir," Luke said. The two men retreated into Watson's corner office, and then Watson quickly shut the door.

Through the window Kate saw Watson gesturing angrily above a seated Luke. She couldn't see Luke's reaction, as his back was to the door, his head bent downward. A few minutes later, Luke exited the room. He sat back down at his computer. Watson briskly walked back over to Luke's desk.

"Get out right now," he said quietly, forcefully.

Luke's face was blank, devoid of emotion. He stood up, eye to eye with Watson. Kate couldn't discern the look in Luke's gaze. He put on his coat, grabbed his satchel and left the office.

"What are you looking at, Miss Bennett?" Watson asked Kate. "Get back to work."

Controlling her instinct to stand up and follow Luke out, she looked down at her computer, pretending to work. Watson must have read their report on Racak, she surmised. Was it he who destroyed it? And now Luke's second draft, the one he had been working on all morning, would go unpublished, too.

She had to remain focused. The best chance of getting the truth out about Racak was for her to stay in the office, pretending to work, until she could figure out how to rewrite and republish the report without Watson suspecting her of it.

There were only a handful of observers in the office that morning. She spotted Harris at a desk in the corner. Watson stood in the middle of the office, amidst the observers' desks. He cleared his throat. "Observers, good morning. Effective immediately, John Harris from the State Department will be running daily patrol operations. Please e-mail your patrol reports directly to Mr. Harris for his review."

Kate sat back in her chair for a moment. It appeared as if Watson and Harris were now controlling everything. For a moment she considered resigning. She thought about how good it would feel to march into Watson's office, to tell him that she wanted nothing more to do with his corrupt Mission.

Her other option was to pretend to play by the rules, and in the meantime work covertly to expose Racak. This was a better decision, she reasoned, for she would have a legitimate cover for staying in Pristina. The Verification Mission was no longer effective, but did that really matter?

She knew she couldn't simply rewrite and repost their report, as any work she produced would certainly be censored. Then she thought of Bill.

If she could get a reconstructed version of the Racak report to Bill, surely he could pass the report to an NSA analyst to post in the intelligence database. She would tell Bill that the Verification Mission was having Internet connectivity issues, and that she had to send the report outside of standard secure channels because the information to pass back to Washington was so urgent.

She scanned the room, looking for a fax machine. There wasn't one in the common area, but perhaps there was one in Watson's office. On her way to the restroom she peered into Watson's office. There on the corner table was a fax machine.

She sat back down at her desk. She would rewrite the Racak report, and then she'd call Bill to get his fax number. She would wait out Harris and the rest of the observers to fax a printout of the report to Bill when she was alone. She opened the intelligence database to look for an NSA phone number to dial so that she could try to patch into Bill's office.

"What are you working on, Ms. Bennett?" Her heart leaped. She hadn't heard Harris sneak up behind her.

"I was just looking for Dr. Randall's forensics report on Racak in the database."

He said, "It's not finished yet."

"How do you know?" she asked.

He said, "Dr. Randall was called away to investigate a different crime scene in Urosevac. She hasn't had time to write her report yet."

"But Director Watson told the media during his press conference that Dr. Randall had gone back to Pristina to finish it. That was two days ago."

He said, "Yeah, but I'm telling you that she got called away to investigate a different crime scene. What's so important that you need to see it now?"

"I wanted to see if she had included a decapitated body in her report."

He said, "I'm sure she didn't, since there wasn't one at the crime scene."

Either Harris had not bothered to look at the crime scene closely, or he was part of the cover up. She decided to press Harris a bit. She said, "Captain Davis posted our patrol report detailing our findings in Racak to the database yesterday. I was trying to pull it up, but I can't find it anywhere."

"Maybe he screwed up and didn't save it properly," Harris suggested.

"I doubt that. I think somebody purposely deleted the report from the database."

Harris's eyes narrowed. He said, "Who would do such a thing, Ms. Bennett?"

She stood up. They weren't face-to-face, as he was much taller than she. She said quietly, "If the Racak massacre was fabricated and this misinformation becomes the pretext for a NATO intervention, the public will be outraged to discover a war was waged based on a lie."

He snickered and turned away from her. Then he swung back around, as if he had just thought of something.

"Ms. Bennett, perhaps it's time to curtail your deployment. You've just witnessed a very traumatic scene in Racak, and you're not functioning as an objective observer any more. Tomorrow will be your last day with the Verification Mission. Tomorrow you will serve your last day on patrol of Pec with Jackson.

"On Saturday Lieutenant Scudder will be back in Pristina with supplies from Sarajevo. You will return with him to Bosnia that afternoon to catch a flight out of Sarajevo. Later this afternoon I will draw up orders for your immediate return to Washington."

Her eyes wide, she could think of no response. She would not give him the satisfaction of a protest. So much for laying low and playing by the rules, she thought. She chided herself for provoking Harris. They stood transfixed, glaring at each other, until he turned away and proceeded back to Watson's office.

# Chapter 31

She was being forced back to Washington, but before she left she had a lot of work to do. She found a general NSA phone number and scrawled it on a piece of paper, ready to dial Bill as soon as she had an opportunity. Then she began to rewrite the Racak report in its entirety.

The phone rang at Luke's old desk. Harris opened Watson's office door. "Ms. Bennett, could you answer that, please?" he barked loudly.

She picked up the phone. "Kate Bennett, Kosovo Verification Mission." She saw Harris watching her from Watson's office.

"Captain Davis, please," the voice said.

"He's not here. May I assist you?" Kate asked.

"No."

Kate thought she recognized the voice. "Is this Captain Marchak?"

He said, "Yes. Is this Kate Bennett?"

"Yes, it is."

He said, "I would prefer to speak to Captain Davis."

"Captain Davis is no longer associated with the Mission."

"Why?" he asked.

"I'm not at liberty to discuss the details with you," she said.

He paused. "I found something in the woods that might belong to the missing reporter. Will you meet me in the Racak town square tomorrow afternoon, at fifteen hundred hours?"

Three p.m. tomorrow, she thought. Harris had assigned her a patrol with Jackson tomorrow morning, in Pec, northwest of Pristina. Racak was southwest of Pristina, but she could be back from patrol in time to make the appointment if she hurried. And if she could track down Luke before tomorrow afternoon, he could go with her to meet Marchak.

"Yes," she confirmed, and then she hung up the phone. She sat there for a moment, curious about what Marchak had found. She had wanted to ask him more questions, but she had not wanted anybody in the office to overhear the conversation. She would be patient and find out what Marchak knew at their meeting tomorrow.

Harris exited Watson's office and walked toward her.

"Who was that?" he asked.

"A police officer who investigated the theft of my camera three nights ago in Stimlje."

"What did he want?"

"I don't know," Kate replied. "He was looking for Captain Davis."

"Humph," Harris muttered. He went back to his desk, and Kate exhaled.

# Chapter 32

It was almost 5:00, and only she and Harris were still in the office. She had rewritten the Racak report and was awaiting an opportunity to call the general NSA phone number to connect with Bill. She got the feeling that Harris was waiting for her to leave.

She approached him at his desk. "I just finished rewriting my and Captain Davis's Racak patrol report, which is ready for your review. I just e-mailed it to you."

He grunted in acknowledgment. She added, "Last night I ran into Hashim Tanem at a nearby restaurant. I'm going to start writing the report of my conversation with Tanem right now."

He rolled his eyes. "I don't know why you wasted the afternoon rewriting that Racak report. You know I'm not going to publish it."

She shrugged her shoulders. "I did everything I could to provide an accurate observation. It's out of my hands now. I can't compel you to act ethically."

"That's the first smart thing you've said all day. So what did you and Tanem talk about?"

"You can read all the details in my report," she said.

"I can't wait to censor it," he said smugly. "You love wasting time, don't you, Ms. Bennett?"

She went back to her desk and opened up a new template, pretending to start the report of her conversation with Tanem.

Minutes later, Harris put on his hat and gloves. "I'm going to grab something to eat from the cafe around the corner. I'll be back in a few minutes."

She figured she might have fifteen unsupervised minutes at most to get the Racak report to Bill. She printed the report she had just sent to Harris. Then she dialed the NSA number from the phone on Harris's desk that had an international connection.

"Hello?" a voice on the other line said.

"This is Kate Bennett from State. Could you please patch me through to Bill Anders in the Russian linguistics department?"

"One moment, please," the voice said. The line rang ten times before the secretary of the Russian linguistics office picked up. She readily provided Kate Bill's fax number.

Kate scrawled on the cover page: "Bill: Our secure email system is down, prohibiting us from posting reports to the intelligence database. I am trying to get in touch with you regarding an urgent issue. Could not wait to send through normal channels. Please forward the following report to an analyst in NSA's Balkans division for posting in the intelligence database. I will call you tomorrow night to follow up. Regards, Kate."

She ran into Watson's office and warmed up the fax machine. She entered Bill's fax number, hoping she didn't need a special security code to send the fax. The first page floated through, and then after what felt like hours, the last page was done. The machine spit out a page confirming the fax had been transmitted successfully. She shredded the report and the confirmation page and sat back down at her desk only moments before Harris returned to the office.

Her heart racing, she mustered a weak smile. "I was just wrapping things up for the evening," she said, trying desperately to keep her voice even and calm. "I'm glad you're back to lock up the office so that I can go now."

"Did you finish your report on Tanem already?" he asked.

She turned off her computer. As she put on her coat, hat and gloves, she said, "No, but I'm too tired to work any longer. I'll finish it tomorrow before Jackson and I leave for Pec, when my mind is fresh."

She headed toward the door. She could feel him watching her. She hoped he hadn't noticed her trembling.

Once outside, she couldn't stop her feet from running. She had no plans to run to her hotel, but she could not control the primitive urge to flee from Harris as quickly as she could.

# Chapter 33

She was flushed and breathing heavily from her sprint. When she saw him through the glass door of the lobby, a smile spread across her face, and a feeling of relief coursed through her veins.

He stood up and walked toward her, a concerned look in his eyes.

"Was somebody chasing you?" he asked.

She laughed. "I felt compelled to run tonight," she said. She inhaled deeply, the warm air filling her lungs. "I'm so glad to see you. After you left the office this morning, I realized I had no way of tracking you down." They stood very close to each other. She felt the electricity between them and wondered if he did, too.

"I started to worry that something bad had happened to you," he said.

"I had to wait until Harris left the office to fax Bill the third rewrite of our Racak report. I explained in the fax cover memo that the Verification Mission was having a connectivity issue with secure e-mail and that this information was too urgent to wait to send through normal channels."

"That's great," he said. "Can you count on this guy, Kate?"

"Absolutely. I'll call Bill tomorrow night to confirm our report was published," she said.

They sat down near the lobby's hearth, close enough to the fire to feel its radiant warmth.

"What did Watson say to you this morning?" she asked.

"He saw our report. He was irate that we would submit analysis that contradicted what he had told the media. I told him it was my job as an observer to report what I saw. He replied that it was irresponsible to confuse the situation for those back in Washington.

"He said that after having witnessed the horror of Racak, I needed some time off. He said that if I'm not on a C-130 out of Pristina Airfield tomorrow morning, he'll have me court-martialed."

Kate said, "Marchak called this afternoon looking for you. He found something in the woods that might belong to Gunter. He agreed to meet with me tomorrow afternoon in Racak. I figured the two of us could go together, but I guess that's not a possibility if you're leaving Kosovo in the morning."

Luke said, "I'll be on that C-130 tomorrow, but as soon as I get to Stuttgart, I'm going to take a few weeks of leave to return to Kosovo unofficially to investigate Gunter's disappearance. I'll take the overnight train from Frankfurt to Sarajevo and then rent a car to drive across Montenegro and back into Kosovo."

He continued, "May I meet you here at the hotel on Saturday night? You can bring me up to speed on what Marchak discovered about Gunter over a late dinner."

She shook her head. "I can't meet you. I was fired today, too. Harris ordered me back to Sarajevo on Saturday with Scudder."

"What?" he asked, shocked by the news.

She said, "I told Harris he couldn't silence the truth about Racak, and then he fired me."

Luke chuckled. "We'll probably pass each other in transit on Saturday, you heading to Sarajevo and me speeding back to Kosovo," he said.

"I have an idea," she said. "Tomorrow afternoon I'll tell Marchak you're on your way back to Stimlje to look for Gunter, and that he should hold onto whatever evidence he found in the woods until he sees you. When do you want to try to meet him?"

"How about if he meets me at Hotel Stimlje at nine o'clock Saturday night? And please tell him that if I'm not there when he arrives, that I'll try to track him down in Stimlje on Sunday."

"That's a good plan," she said.

"Your four week deployment really flew by, didn't it, Ms. Bennett?"

She smiled. "Want to grab dinner?"

"Sure. How about Taverna? The food is pretty good there."

The day had been so hectic that she had forgotten to tell Luke about her meeting with Tanem, and about the mysterious red haired woman.

She smiled. "I wouldn't know about the food," she said, "but the company there is pretty interesting."

He looked puzzled.

"I'll explain on the way," she said.

# Chapter 34

They chose a table near the windows. Kate scanned the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of the red haired woman. She told Luke that she was certain the woman whom she had seen with Tanem last night had been at her father's funeral a few weeks ago.

"There aren't any women in the KLA's inner circle," Luke said.

"She looked European or American. And I'm pretty sure she is the key to unlocking my dad's connection to Kosovo. If we don't see her tonight, I'll come back here myself again tomorrow night for the slightest chance of seeing her again. Tomorrow is the last chance I have of figuring out what my dad was up to."

"I still can't believe Tanem chatted you up at the bar here," Luke said.

"He was delightful," she said. "For the leader of a band of thugs, he seemed quite refined."

"He spends more of his time in Switzerland than he does in Kosovo, so perhaps he's picked up some European courtesies," he said.

Over the noise of the band, he asked, "Have you tried _flija_ yet?"

"No. What is it?"

He said, "It's a traditional Albanian dish served in pubs. It's a layered stack of crepes with cream cheese baked in between. Each layer is baked separately. It takes a lot of time to prepare, and it is delicious. I'll order one for us, if you're up for trying it."

"That sounds great," she said.

They ordered a round of beer, and then a second round to enjoy with the _flija_ that had just arrived at their table, still warm. The food was rich and satisfying.

Luke spoke of Gunter. "He and I hit it off as soon as we met. I used to think a reporter would be ready to exploit anybody for a good lead, but Gunter was different. He was here because Kosovo was where the action was, and wherever there was action was the only place he ever wanted to be. His said his stories came easily to him because he was honest and sincere, traits that resonated with the people he interviewed. He said the one thing he had learned from his work a journalist is that everybody just wants their truth to be told properly."

Kate said, "We'll find him, Luke. I have a feeling that Marchak's discovery will help us track down Gunter."

Luke shrugged his shoulders. "I'd like to be optimistic and keep an open mind about Gunter's whereabouts, but deep down I can't help thinking that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and he's dead as a result of it."

"You don't know that. Maybe he's laying low for a few days," she suggested.

"Maybe," he said. "If he's alive, I'll find him when I get back. And if it turns out that he's dead, then I'll uncover what happened to him."

On the walk back to the Hotel Ambassador, he said, "We should make plans to reconnect when you're back in Washington. You can tell me how the Racak report was received within the Beltway, and I can relay what I found out about Gunter."

She nodded absently. She felt her chest tighten, a physical response to the realization that their time together was coming to an end. "Good luck getting back to Kosovo," she said lightly. "I've heard driving through the mountains of Montenegro can be harrowing, especially in the winter."

They arrived at the front door of the Hotel Ambassador and stopped outside. Their eyes met. "Take care, Captain Davis," she breathed softly, her heart beating quickly. She turned quickly and entered the hotel, willing herself not to look back at him one last time.

She had to stay focused. Tomorrow night she would call Bill to confirm the Racak report had been circulated successfully. And tomorrow was her last chance to find the red haired woman.

As she climbed the steps to her room, she thought about Bill, and of her life in Washington less than a week ago. She felt a pang of regret that she had to return so soon.

# Chapter 35

"Today you're patrolling with Jackson," Harris reminded her loudly the moment she stepped through the door.

She sat down at her desk to wait for Jackson. She felt anxious not knowing the status of the Racak report. Had Bill received her fax? And if so, then had the report already been published in the intelligence database? She did not want to be in the office when Watson got wind of what she had done. She hoped Jackson would arrive soon.

Watson entered the office, and Kate felt her pulse quicken. Watson passed by her desk and waved at Harris to follow him back into the corner office. Did he already know, Kate wondered? _Come on, Jackson_ , she thought. _Hurry up and arrive so that we can get out on patrol._

Jackson arrived, and Kate gathered her things quickly, breathing a sigh of relief. Moments later, Watson left his office and approached her. Her heart beat rapidly. She had to accept that this was the confrontation she was desperately hoping to avoid.

He leaned in closely, his beady eyes gleaming. She could smell his stale coffee breath. His voice was steady and calculated, brimming with rage. "Ms. Bennett, somebody from NSA published your report under the guise of a communications glitch here at the Mission office."

She tried to remain calm. She willed her voice to be steady and confident. Quietly, she said, "Sir, Captain Davis and I attempted to submit a report a few days ago, and when we looked for it in the database yesterday, it was gone. Wouldn't it have been a logical assumption to assume our communications were down? Why else would a report we posted not be in the database?"

He leaned closer to her, his rage a whisper. "You have no idea who I am, Ms. Bennett. I will ruin not only you, but also your stooge at NSA. Neither one of you will be able to get jobs within a hundred-mile radius of Washington. I guarantee it."

Kate's stomach dropped. Bill had worked so hard to get where he was, and he loved his job. How could she ever make it up to him if his career were ruined over her choice to involve him? She pushed the fear out of her mind. "Is that all, sir?" she asked, her voice wavering, her eyes blazing.

"You can't stop it, Ms. Bennett. There is nothing you can say or do to stop the course of events that are unfolding."

"Perhaps," she said to Watson. _But I will still try_ , she thought.

# Chapter 36

During the uneventful drive back from Pec with Jackson, Kate thought over and over again about Watson's words, which were starting to get to her. She was risking her career, perhaps needlessly. And even worse, she had risked Bill's. Was this battle worth losing everything, out of principle?

No, she decided, the question wasn't whether publishing the Racak report was worth throwing away her career. How could she live with herself if she backed down to protect her professional aspirations? That was not the type of person she was—or would ever be.

If exposing Racak were to cost her career, then perhaps it was time to step things up. If their Racak report didn't turn heads within government channels, then maybe it was time to engage the media. She had not considered that option until now, because she had hoped that after reading her and Luke's account of Racak, leaders would question the pretext for a war in Kosovo. But if Watson would discount her credibility and invalidate the Racak report that Bill had reposted, then what choice did she have but to approach CNN with the story?

The media could sway public opinion, which in turn could pressure policy makers to change the course of action. People should have all of the facts, she reasoned, in order to form rational opinions about the right course of action. She didn't know exactly what had happened at Racak, but the situation warranted questioning, and nobody had enough information to consider asking more questions.

Watson could ruin her, but she reassured herself that at least she would go down fighting.

# Chapter 37

The Hotel Ambassador receptionist informed Kate that renting a car in Pristina was a virtually nonexistent business, whereas hiring a private driver was easy. Kate didn't have time to figure out an alternative way to Stimlje to meet Marchak, and she reasoned that it would probably be safer for her to travel with an Albanian man than to drive alone anyway.

The desk clerk brokered the fifty-dollar deal between Kate and a young man named Miko. Miko opened the door on the passenger side of the dusty old Fiat, and they were on their way.

Miko weaved the little car in and out of Pristina traffic, sometimes into lanes of oncoming traffic, sometimes ignoring stoplights. Kate gripped the door handle, bracing for impact. She said calmly in Albanian, "I'm not in a hurry, but I appreciate your effort."

He laughed. "Lady, this is how everybody drives in Pristina. Otherwise we would never get to where we are going."

Kate planned out the rest of her day as Miko careened the vehicle toward Stimlje. She'd meet Marchak to let him know that Luke would be returning to Stimlje Saturday night to continue the investigation of Gunter's disappearance. Then she'd go back to the hotel and call Bill in his office for an update. Lastly, she would hit Taverna to grab dinner and ask around about the red haired woman.

Miko slowed down the car. They were outside Pristina, approaching a fork in the highway, with one prong leading to Stimlje and one to Urosevac. Kate noticed an obstruction ahead on the road to Stimlje.

Miko slowed down the vehicle. "Serb police," he muttered.

"Don't worry," she said. "They won't hassle us when they see my Mission badge." She kept her nervousness to herself. She wasn't sure she had enough cash for a decent bribe.

Two police officers flagged down their vehicle, motioning for Miko to pull over for an inspection. He complied. Kate surveyed the surroundings. She noticed forest and rolling hills a mile to the west, scrub to the east, and nothing in between.

One of the police officers approached the passenger side of the Fiat.

"Please get out of the car," he ordered calmly in English.

"What is this about?" she asked.

"Please get out of the car," he repeated. Kate looked at Miko. His eyes were wide with fear.

She opened the door and stepped out. The policeman pushed her to the ground. The other officer swarmed over her, subduing her kicking as she tried desperately to escape. She screamed, but there was no one to hear her, nobody except Miko, who stood paralyzed with fear.

They bound her hands and her feet. The men dragged her by her arms and flung her into the trunk of a Mercedes. As soon as the trunk slammed shut, the car peeled out.

Kate yelled in the trunk until her voice was hoarse. Deep down she knew her raspy screams were futile, but she refused to stop trying. She would struggle and fight to the end.

# Chapter 38

The car stopped. She heard nothing. She had no idea where she was, who her captors were, or what they wanted from her. The trunk opened.

Two young men picked her up. They looked like the policemen from the checkpoint, but they were now dressed in regular clothes. She berated herself for not paying better attention to the appearances of the policemen back at the checkpoint, and for not noticing if there were other people there at the scene. She had been afraid, and she knew that this was why her powers of observation had been weak, why everything was a blur.

As the men carried her, she craned her neck, trying to figure out where she might be. The area was deserted. They carried her into a small farm house. The inside of the house was worn, the furniture sparse. They carried her down steep wooden steps into a very small stone basement, a room that likely served as a cellar refrigerator in an era before electricity.

They removed the rope around her wrists. She felt hopeful for a moment, that perhaps her captors would allow her to move freely about in the cellar, which would give her a chance to investigate escape options. They dragged her into the corner of the cellar, pulled her arms around a metal pole, and retied her wrists. Her feet were still bound.

"What do you want?" she asked in Serbo-Croatian.

The men ignored her question. She tried the same question again, in Albanian this time, but there was still no response from her captors. The men ascended back up the steep steps without saying a word, locking the cellar door behind them. A thin line of light shone down through the crack under the door, the only source of light in the dank room.

She heard the engine of the Mercedes outside. One, or possibly both, of her captors was leaving. As she struggled unsuccessfully to loosen the ropes around her wrist, the thin skin around her wrists became raw.

She had never before noticed such cold, complete silence. The light under the door dimmed, signaling the end of the day. She surmised that it would be pitch black in the cellar within the hour. She shivered. She moved her legs to lie down on her side to rest. She heard a faint noise coming from somewhere in cellar, like a very quiet drum beat. She strained to listen.

She felt something brush up against her leg. Reflexively, she kicked her leg out. She couldn't see what it was, but she guessed it to be a cellar rat, drawn to her by the heat of her body. She sat up and placed her head against the pole to rest.

She could not lie down again after her encounter with the rat. In the absence of other noise, the sound of the vermin's scurrying feet was almost deafening. Every time she felt a flutter against her skin, she recoiled. What would stop them from biting her? She couldn't let that happen and risk infection or- even worse- rabies. If she could make it to the morning, she told herself, then at least she would be able to see the rats before they neared her.

She remained vigilant, ready to do whatever it took to keep the vermin from biting her. She pushed thoughts of her father, of Luke, and of her kidnapping out of her mind, focusing on the challenge at hand. She opened her eyes periodically to look for light coming from under the cellar door. Once she thought she might not ever see light again. She was tired and cold, and she considered giving up, allowing the rats to feed on her skin.

It was at that moment of greatest despair when she realized that she could see, very faintly, the outline of her right arm. Light danced under the door. She felt hope at that desperate moment when she needed it most. There was light, and now she could watch for rats and kick them away before they got close to her.

The light had brought her more than hope that she could outwit the rat. She now had the luxury to think of other things, like escape, while she kept an eye out for the rats. Her captors had not taken the opportunity to kill or rape her the night before, which meant they had other plans. Those plans might be horrible, but at least she wasn't immediately dispensable. She would survive.

# Chapter 39

She heard real noise, not just the scattering feet of a cellar rat. It sounded like the grinding of gravel, of a car approaching. A car door slammed shut, and then a second door closed. She heard footsteps above her, and then men talking in Albanian.

If her captors were speaking Albanian, then the Serb police checkpoint had been fake. Had she been captured by the KLA? But what could they possibly want with her?

Light burst into the cellar as one of the men opened the cellar door, descending the stairs. She could see only his outline in the light behind him until he was standing directly in front of her.

He looked young, perhaps eighteen. He was thin and small. He placed a small loaf of bread and a mug of water on the floor near her feet.

"Thank you," she said in Albanian.

"It's nothing," he replied naturally, not realizing that he had blown his cover as a Serb police officer.

"What are you planning to do with me?" she asked.

The guard said nothing. Perhaps he didn't know, she thought, or maybe he had been instructed not to say anything to her.

"Who ordered my capture?" she asked.

The guard did not answer.

"Why would the KLA kidnap a Verification Mission observer?"

"Be quiet," he ordered.

He turned away from her, heading towards the stairs. It was her last chance to try to save herself. "Please! I know Hashim Tanem. He would order my release if he knew I were here. My name is Kate Bennett."

The young man turned back around, incredulous.

This was her chance. She continued, "Yes, it's true. Radio one of your supervisors and ask them to pass on my name to Mr. Tanem."

"Why should I believe you?" he asked.

She said, "You don't have to believe me. But if you pass on my name, you'll be saving your own skin. If Mr. Tanem finds out that Kate Bennett has been imprisoned, he will have you killed."

He looked at her for a moment, as if considering whether what she was saying might be true. He said nothing. He turned and climbed the cellar steps, locking the door behind him.

The room was dim again. She tore off a piece of the roll and chewed it slowly. She heard the murmur of the voices upstairs. One of the men sounded agitated. She strained to listen.

"She said she knows 'The Snake.'"

"It's a lie. She'd say anything to try to save her life," said the second voice.

"But what if she does know him? Can't you call Corba and ask him if they know the girl?"

"No. If it ever got back to 'The Snake,' we would just tell him the truth, that we didn't harm the girl, and that we were just obeying the American's orders, to keep her here until tonight."

"But what if 'The Snake' doesn't know what the American is up to? What's the harm in checking in with Corba?"

The other man paused a moment, thinking about it. "Fine. Let's call Corba."

She heard the men leave the house and speed off in the car.

An American was responsible for her capture. Was it Harris who orchestrated her kidnapping? And what would happen to her tonight? For a moment she wished that she were back in Washington, and that she had never agreed to take this field assignment. Exposing the truth about Racak might be worth losing her career, but it certainly was not worth losing her life.

# Chapter 40

The light underneath the door dimmed. The sun would be setting soon, and the end of her captivity was nearing. The only question was whether it would end in freedom, or in murder.

She heard the crackle of gravel, the rev of a car engine, and then the quiet of an automobile in park. This automobile sounded different than the vehicle the guards were driving earlier. This is it, she thought.

She heard the click of the cellar door being unlocked. She saw the outline of a large man at the top of the stairs with a gun slung over his shoulder. Her heart beat fast.

The man descended the stairs slowly. He wore black boots, camouflage pants, and a brown sweater. She could not see his face, but she recognized the insignia on his cap. It was a KLA pin, and he was not an American. He lifted his head, and looked straight at her.

It was Corba, Tanem's right hand man. He was expressionless and silent as his hands worked quickly to untie the rope around her wrists and her ankles. From what she remembered reading in intelligence reports, Corba was a cruel man who had perpetrated many crimes during his rise through the KLA ranks. He hated Serbs and was vocal about it. She figured he probably wasn't a fan of Verification Mission observers, either. She remained silent.

He helped her stand up, and her knees collapsed. She was surprised at how weak she was after such a short period of time in captivity. He draped her arm around his shoulders and reached around her waist, helping her up the stairs.

Corba addressed the guard who was standing by the front door. "Come with us. You don't want to be here when the American arrives to find her gone."

The three climbed into a pickup truck. Kate sat in the middle, between Corba and the guard. She was surprised that she didn't feel anger toward the guard, her captor. He had only been following orders, and he was younger than she, probably eighteen or nineteen. He kept his gaze fixed on passing scenery out the window.

As the truck neared the lights of Pristina, Corba said firmly, "I don't know why Hashim thought your life was so valuable, but he did. Now that we're in the city, duck your head down. We can't risk you being seen with us."

"You, too," he instructed the young guard. "You're supposed to be at the house with the girl. Duck down."

The passengers rode hidden for what seemed to Kate to be about thirty minutes. Corba pulled the truck off one of the main roads, down an alley and into a garage. The garage door closed behind them, and they exited the truck. Corba punched a key code to gain them access to the building through the garage. The door opened, and they walked down a bright hallway. Kate noticed at least two security cameras as they walked the empty hallway.

Corba escorted her to a room with a bed and a bathroom. "Eat and shower," he ordered. There is food in the refrigerator and clean clothes here on the bed for you. Hashim will be here to speak with you in the morning."

Kate looked up at the camera in the room. Corba said, "You're under surveillance for your own protection, and don't even try to think about getting out; your door locks from the outside." She heard the click of the deadbolt as he exited her room.

She found cheese in the refrigerator and bread on the table. She made herself a sandwich and washed it down with a Coke. In the shower, as the warm water washed over her, she rubbed her skin roughly, trying to remove the physical evidence of her abduction. She felt weak, and it was difficult to think straight.

She crawled under the covers and fell asleep almost immediately. Another night in captivity, she thought. But at least tonight she wouldn't have to worry about rats.

# Chapter 41

When she woke, she felt well rested, as if she had been asleep for days. There were no windows in the room, so she wasn't sure if it was day or night. The clock near her bed indicated that it was 10:00 in the morning. She yawned, stretched, and pulled the covers off. Her body was still weak, but her mind felt sharp again. It was time to try to figure out what was going on.

Corba came to her door. They must have been watching me sleep, she thought.

Corba said nothing. He escorted her down the hall, to a conference room, and he ushered her to sit down. She sat at the table, waiting, dressed in the borrowed pants and shirt.

She heard the click of the door unlocking. Tanem smiled when he saw her. "Ms. Bennett, how are you finding our accommodations?" he asked, outstretching his hand.

"Rather strange," she replied. "I haven't stayed too many places as lavish as yours where the doors lock on the outside."

"Then you haven't been to any drug rehabilitation centers for the rich and famous back in America?" he said lightly, his eyes sparkling. "I've heard all of those places are exactly like this, locked from the outside to protect the people inside from themselves."

She smiled politely. "Thank you for rescuing me, Mr. Tanem," she said.

"Despite what others say about me, Ms. Bennett, I embrace justice. Your detainment seemed an unjust punishment for your crime."

"Who is after me?" she asked.

Tanem sighed. "One of Joe Watson's underlings, a man named Jakob Otto."

So it wasn't Harris, Kate thought.

"Watson and Otto are CIA, aren't they?" she asked. Tanem nodded his head.

Unsmiling, he said, "I'm not particularly proud to be doing business with such people of low scruples. But the CIA provides us with the best opportunity for independence from Belgrade. To befriend an enemy in order to achieve our goal is a means that justifies the purest end."

Tanem asked, "What did you do to get yourself in this mess, Ms. Bennett?"

She said, "I submitted a field report that contradicted what Director Watson communicated to the media about the Racak massacre." She scratched her head. "But why detain me? Watson could easily discredit me, as it's my word against the omnipotent CIA's. I don't see how they could find me to be a threat."

Tanem continued, "I can't help you from here, Ms. Bennett. I cannot risk the CIA knowing that I betrayed them to save your life. If you continue to try to expose the truth about Racak, then you will continue to have a target on your head, as the CIA will stop at nothing to ensure this war happens. I suggest you go back to your hotel, gather your things, and get out of Kosovo as soon as you can. Disappear, because I cannot protect you any longer."

Kate considered Tanem's words. He seemed genuinely concerned for her welfare, but she knew that her silence about Racak also suited his own interests.

"Mr. Tanem, may I ask you one question before I leave?"

He looked intrigued, smiling slightly. "Certainly."

"Who was the red haired woman with whom you were dining at Taverna, the night we met?"

Tanem appeared surprised by the question. "Why do you ask?"

"The woman attended my father's funeral in December in Chicago," Kate said.

"Are you certain it was the same woman?"

"Absolutely," she said. "Who is she?"

"She is CIA, like Watson and Otto, but she works only peripherally with the other field officers in country. She's been in Kosovo the last two years supporting an independent Kosovo governed by the KLA. She and I work closely together. She cannot be the woman you saw in Chicago."

"The funeral took place a few days before Christmas. She was there," Kate said.

Tanem thought for a moment, and then he sighed. "With the CIA, I suppose anything is possible."

He stood up and extended his hand. "I wish you the best, Ms. Bennett."

# Chapter 42

Corba met her at the door with a coat, hat, gloves and boots. "I will drop you off a few blocks from your hotel," he said. "As a precaution, duck down while we're driving, so nobody sees you with me."

"Yes, sir." she replied. Corba might be a rough and tough soldier, she thought, but he was growing on her.

He pulled the truck into an alley to let her out. She hopped out of the truck and looked back at him with gratitude. His eyes seemed less hard than normal, perhaps more sympathetic.

"Thanks," she said, and started down the road back towards the hotel, hearing him peel out behind her. She opened the glass doors of the hotel, feeling like a stranger, as if she had been gone a very long time. The front desk clerk's eyes widened when she saw Kate.

"You're alive," she whispered. "Miko thought you were dead. He wasn't supposed to tell anybody what happened, but he told me to hold onto your things, in case you came back."

The desk clerk entered a small room behind the reception desk. She returned with Kate's backpack. "All of your things are in your satchel," the clerk said.

The clerk handed Kate her backpack. She leaned in close, whispering, "A man has been waiting here a while for you. He's over there."

Kate didn't turn to look at the man. Her instincts told her it was Otto, the man who had commissioned her imprisonment. When Otto went to the farm house and found her gone, Kate reasoned, he must have come here to wait for her.

She realized how stupid she had been to return to the hotel for her passport. She should have left Kosovo when she had the chance. She put on her backpack slowly. She wanted to turn around to face her captor bravely, but her survival instincts took over. She darted out of the hotel.

As she pushed open the glass doors and ran as fast as she could down the sidewalk, she heard the voice. "Kate, wait!"

She kept running. She ran as hard and she fast as she could, almost knocking a man over as she hurled herself away from the hotel, away from the voice.

"Kate, stop! It's me!"

The voice registered in her head. She slowed, and then stopped. She turned around.

He caught up to her. She noticed his labored breath in the cold air as he exhaled.

She thought she should have felt a great relief that it was not Otto pursuing her, but all she could think about was how foolish she had been to return to the hotel, to a place where Otto could easily track her down. Was Otto here on the street now, observing her? She looked around nervously.

Luke grabbed her arm gently. He asked, "Why are you running? What's wrong?"

She didn't say anything. She looked down at the ground and fought back tears.

He said gently, "Let's go back to my apartment. You look exhausted. You can rest there."

He carried her backpack for her. She walked with her head down, watching the pavement go by. She hoped Luke was right: that she was simply worn out, and that this anxiousness, intermingled with numbness, would pass.

# Chapter 43

He returned from the kitchen with two mugs of coffee and a plate of cheese and crackers. He sat down next to her on the sofa. "If you don't want to talk about what happened, that's all right. I'm just glad you returned to the Ambassador. I've been waiting there in the lobby for you all night. I didn't know where to look for you otherwise."

He clasped her hands in his. They felt warm. She looked up at him. She was ready to tell him what happened.

Taking a deep breath, she said, "On Friday the hotel clerk at the Ambassador arranged a driver and a car so that I could meet Marchak. The driver and I were on my way to Racak when we were stopped at a fake police checkpoint set up by a local KLA unit. I was kidnapped and held in a cellar overnight.

"The next day I told the guard I was friends with Hashim Tanem. I persuaded the guard that he had nothing to lose by at least checking with Tanem to see if I was telling the truth. Tanem sent Andrei Corba to pick me up, and I spent last night in a KLA safe house. Tanem told me that the local KLA contingent was instructed by Jakob Otto, a CIA operative, to detain me until Otto arrived at the farmhouse on Saturday night."

She picked up the mug of coffee that Luke had prepared for her. She took in the aroma, and felt the radiating warmth of the mug against her hands. She noticed how concerned he looked that she had been taken.

She continued, "Tanem advised me to keep silent about Racak and to leave Kosovo immediately. He said he couldn't risk the CIA finding out that it was he who freed me. I went back to the Ambassador to get my passport, and when the clerk said a man was waiting in the lobby for me, I jumped to the conclusion that it was Otto."

"Did they hurt you?" Luke asked quietly.

"No. I'm just exhausted and scared." She inhaled deeply. "I'm glad it was you at the hotel."

He bent down and began to unlace his boots. It reminded her of the last night they spent together, in Stimlje, right after the intruder had been in her room. She watched the precise movements of his square hands.

He noticed her watching him, and his gaze met hers. She leaned back against him, resting her head on his shoulders. He draped his arm around hers in a loose embrace. She exhaled, permitting herself a moment to relax.

Her head resting on his chest, she said, "If Corba hadn't rescued me last night, I don't know what would have happened. The CIA could easily discredit me and the Racak report, so why go to the effort of kidnapping? To scare me into silence, perhaps?"

She interrupted herself. "Wait, why were you waiting for me at the Ambassador? I was supposed to have left yesterday morning for Washington. How did you know I was still here?"

"Marchak is missing," Luke said. "His disappearance made me think something might have happened to you."

"Marchak is missing?" she asked.

Luke said, "I returned to Stimlje on Saturday evening as planned. 9:00 passed, and then it was 9:30, and still no Marchak. The desk clerk, a young woman, had been eyeing me nervously. I thought she might have been creeped out that I was loitering in the lobby, so I asked her if she had seen Captain Marchak. She said she was Marchak's niece, and that every night he'd stop by the hotel on his way home to check on her. But the last time she saw him was Thursday night.

"I was worried. I knew you were supposed to have met Marchak on Friday. I returned to Pristina to find out when you had checked out. The desk clerk at the Ambassador said you were still checked in. She dialed your room, but nobody answered. I waited in the lobby all night, not knowing what to do."

"What do you think happened to Marchak?" Kate asked.

"I don't know," Luke said. "Do you think there's any chance Watson overheard you speaking to Marchak on Thursday in the office?"

"I don't think so. I chose my words carefully so that if anybody were listening, they wouldn't know my plans to meet with Marchak." Kate thought a moment. "Could Watson and Harris have been listening from Watson's office? Could your phone have been tapped?"

"Possibly. If Watson and Harris heard your conversation with Marchak, then maybe Watson ordered Otto to detain you so that Harris could grab the evidence from Marchak unencumbered."

"Why would the CIA be interested in what happened to Gunter?" Kate asked. "Do you think the CIA is somehow involved in Gunter's disappearance?"

"Stranger things have happened," Luke said. "Maybe they know where Gunter is, or maybe the evidence Marchak possessed implicated Watson in the staging of Racak."

After a while, Luke said, "I'd like to go back to Stimlje tomorrow to look for Marchak and Gunter."

"I'm in," Kate offered unhesitatingly.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Otto could have killed me Friday night," she said. "Your theory that Watson needed to detain me to get the evidence from Marchak makes perfect sense. I'm in this with you, and having a few extra days here to try to track down the red haired woman who knows my dad is another good reason to stay. I am in no hurry to get home."

"Okay, good," he said. "I'm glad we're working together again."

Kate sat up. "Bill was expecting my call Friday night. May I use your phone to call him now? It's Sunday morning in Washington, so it's unlikely he'll be in his office when I call, but I'd like to try."

"Sure," he said. "Just dial 001 before the area code. I'll go see what I've got in the kitchen to make us dinner."

# Chapter 44

Bill answered the phone on the first ring. "Kate, I was so worried something bad had happened to you when you didn't call on Friday. I didn't know what to do but to wait here for your call. What happened?"

"I was kidnapped."

He gasped. "Are you all right? Who is responsible for this?"

"A CIA operative who was trying to prevent me from meeting with a police officer who may have had evidence about what really happened at Racak."

"Normally I'd say that sounds paranoid, but given what happened here on Friday, your explanation sounds entirely plausible."

"What do you mean? Were you able to post the Racak report?" she asked.

"Your report was in circulation for about an hour and a half before it was pulled from the database," Bill said. "The good news is that it was out there early in the morning, when a significant number of analysts were reviewing material to put together their morning briefs. At around 7:30 two men came to my office. They informed me that the report I had received from you was being removed from the server because the source's credibility was questionable.

"One of the men said that as a result of your father's recent death, you were emotionally unstable and borderline paranoid, unfit for field work. The other man said that you were sleeping with Captain Luke Davis, an indication of your weak character. They said Captain Davis was sent back to Stuttgart for dereliction of duty, and that you'd be returning to Washington within the week to undergo a psychiatric evaluation."

"That's ridiculous," she said.

"I know you, and I know all of that is untrue," he said. "A handful of people printed your report before it was retracted. Other analysts saw only the retraction and became curious about your original report. The few people that had printed it made copies, and the report was disseminated widely in paper form. I think your report actually became more popular than it might have been otherwise, thanks to its mysterious removal from the electronic database. The CIA's move to censor may have backfired," Bill said.

"Did they threaten punishment for your role in all of this, Bill?" she asked.

"No. They knew we had not been in contact until you sent me the fax, and I convinced them that I was just doing what I thought was right, given the connectivity issue that you were having in your field office."

"That's good. I didn't want to involve you in this, Bill. I just didn't know what else to do."

"When are you coming back to Washington?" he asked.

"I don't know. Tomorrow Luke and I are going to try to track down that police officer who has the evidence. I haven't thought much past that."

"I thought Davis was back in Stuttgart," Bill said.

"He was briefly, but he returned to Kosovo to investigate the disappearance of one of his friends, a German reporter."

"Why don't you come home, Kate?" Bill suggested.

"To do what?" she asked. She felt worn out. "To undergo a psychiatric evaluation that we both know is unnecessary? And then to sit in my cubicle at the State Department and hope that somebody pays attention to a report that was retracted from the intelligence database because the author was deemed incompetent?"

Bill sighed. "I just think it might be too late to stop the war, Kate. On Friday one of my colleagues here at NSA said he was in a Defense Department meeting in which preliminary plans for a NATO bombing campaign were being discussed at a very tactical level. He said they talked about what targets in Kosovo we should hit."

"But there aren't any KLA targets to hit. The KLA doesn't have any infrastructure," she said.

"Precisely," Bill said. "An air campaign could only hurt the Serbs, but the Defense Department is saying that we have to do something. Secretary Anderson is headed to Munich tomorrow to try to broker a peace agreement between Milosevic and Tanem. If the peace talks fail, which they seem poised to do, NATO appears ready to commence an air campaign immediately."

Bill continued, "The situation is heating up, Kate. Please get out of Kosovo before the bombs start dropping."

"I can't tell you how much I appreciate what you've done, Bill. Thank you."

"You know I'd do anything for you, Kate. Hopefully I'll see you in a few days."

"Goodbye, Bill."

"Goodbye, Kate."

She waited a few seconds with the receiver still on her ear until she heard the line disconnect. What was she holding on to, she wondered?

# Chapter 45

"What did Bill say?" Luke asked, returning from the kitchen with two sandwiches.

"He posted the report, and then it was retracted, but not before a wide audience of analysts had seen it."

"That's good," Luke said.

Kate added, "The Secretary is hosting a summit in Munich this week as a last ditch effort to force a peace agreement between Milosevic and Tanem. Bill believes that if the parties can't come to an agreement in Munich, the NATO air campaign begins."

"So war is imminent?"

"It seems that way," she said. "I keep wondering what Marchak found of Gunter's. Could it be hard evidence confirming the Racak massacre was staged? If that's the case, then perhaps we have a chance to stop this war. I really hope we can track down Marchak tomorrow. If the evidence is useful, then maybe we can turn it over to Jacques Montblanc at _Le Monde_."

Luke frowned. "Are you sure you want to approach the media? Think of the questions people would ask about American intentions in every international intervention moving forward."

Kate felt her pulse quicken. "These questions the American public would ask themselves are the same questions I'm asking myself right now. The public deserves to know the truth."

She continued, "Would we expedite a war in Kosovo simply to keep NATO relevant? Or perhaps our leaders believe we have to beat Milosevic at all costs, because the end of his reign means the West's complete win over communism in Europe. Or maybe we have to precipitate a war in Kosovo to illustrate to the Russians that we won the Cold War. None of these are good reasons for war."

"Our American leaders might suffer from antiquated thinking," Luke said, "but can you blame them, considering they've spent their careers working to bring down communist dictators around the world?"

"You're right," she said, "They're making the best decisions they can, based on their extensive knowledge and experience. This is not the time to blame or criticize the people who were put into the tough position of having to make such important decisions; it's simply the time to try to make things right."

"You've missed one other possibility of why we could want war in Kosovo," he suggested.

"Let's hear it."

"On more than one occasion Secretary Anderson has likened Milosevic to Hitler, stating that the U.S. has a responsibility to act to prevent such a monster from perpetrating further atrocities. I think she intends to stop Milosevic before he becomes a bigger problem."

"But how can she know that Milosevic will provoke or encourage atrocities in Kosovo?" Kate asked. "Milosevic knows the international community is watching his every move in Kosovo. He's not stupid enough to commit genocide under such scrutiny."

"While you and I believe that Milosevic committing genocide in Kosovo is a most unlikely scenario, if he is perceived as a modern-day Hitler, then rational thinking is thrown out the window," he offered.

"I don't believe for a second that Milosevic has any plans to further destabilize Kosovo," she said. "Right now the Verification Mission is a police force that doesn't cost Milosevic a dime, an entity that aids Milosevic's aims to contain the insurgency. We can't just depose leaders when we think they might do something bad. We have an obligation to try to stop this war now if we believe it's been precipitated on false pretenses."

Luke said nothing. She frowned. "Do you disagree?"

He said, "I'm just not certain how much change we can affect by sharing our suspicions with the media. American credibility is at stake with what we choose to say."

She asserted, "The credibility of the United States isn't on the line. The President and Secretary could deny ever knowing the CIA's plans to work up Racak. If we tell the truth, we give the President an opportunity to make things right and to call off military intervention."

"Let's agree to disagree, and we'll figure it out after we find Marchak," Luke said.

She leaned back on the couch, irritated that Luke didn't share her enthusiasm for doing whatever it took to stop this unjust war from happening. She felt exhausted.

"You can have my bed tonight," he said, standing up. "I'll take the couch."

# Chapter 46

She pushed back the covers and noticed immediately how cold it was in the apartment. Through Luke's curtains she could see the sunrise. She looked for a clock in the bedroom, but she didn't see one.

She unzipped her backpack, searching for her watch. There in her backpack was a small manila envelope with "Kate Bennett" scrawled on the front. The desk clerk must have put this in here, she thought. It must be the hotel bill, she surmised.

She sat on the edge of the bed and felt the envelope. It had a lump in it. She tore open the top.

Inside was a note. "Ms. Bennett: I couldn't meet you on Friday. This is what I found in the woods. Jan Marchak." In the envelope was a miniature audiocassette tape.

She walked into the living room. Luke was already awake, curled on the couch, reading.

He looked up at her. "I'm sorry about last night," he said.

"There's no reason to apologize. But I'd like to propose a change of plans for today." She held up the audiocassette, a grin spreading across her face.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Gunter's audiocassette," she said excitedly. "Marchak left it for me at the Hotel Ambassador with a note saying he was sorry he missed our meeting on Friday. The desk clerk must have stuck it in my backpack with all of my other personal belongings. I found it this morning when I was looking for my watch."

"Where are we going to get a small recorder to listen to the tape?" he asked.

An idea came to her. "Let's go over to the _Le Monde_ office and ask Jacques Montblanc for assistance. He'll certainly have a recorder. We can listen to the tape together."

He was silent for a short while. She knew he was contemplating the ramifications of speaking to a reporter. "All right," he said.

# Chapter 47

They descended the stairs and stepped out into the icy wind on the street. A few blocks away, on the same street as the Mission office, they reached a cement office building with a sign in the front window announcing _Le Monde_. They rang the buzzer, and the door opened.

Once inside, they walked up a flight of stairs. At the top of the landing, Kate peered into the office, a large room congested with desks. She saw a handful of people working at computers or talking on phones.

A woman approached them. "May I assist you?" she asked.

"Jacques Montblanc, _s'il vous plait_ ," Kate said. "We are Kate Bennett and Captain Davis from the Verification Mission."

The woman nodded. She led Kate and Luke to an office near the front of the building. There was only one piece of artwork on the walls, a sign written in black marker on a large piece of butcher paper that read, " _Verum dicere_." Kate smiled. _Speak the truth_.

"I will let Monsieur Montblanc know you are here," the woman said. "Please have a seat at the table," she offered.

Within minutes Jacques arrived. "Captain Davis and Ms. Bennett, what a pleasure to see you both again," he said. They stood, and Jacques clasped Kate's hands, offering a friendly welcome.

"What brings you here?" Jacques asked. "Have you found Gunter?"

"Not exactly," Luke said. "We might have something, but we've come here for your help decoding it."

Jacques was interested. "What is it?"

"It's an audiocassette that may have been Gunter's. A policeman found the tape in the woods near Racak."

"Please excuse me a moment," Jacques said, turning his back to his guests. He rummaged through the top desk drawer. "Here it is. A recorder we can use to play the device. Shall we have a listen?" he asked.

Jacques put the tape into the cassette recorder and pushed the "play" button.

A man spoke in German: "I am back in Racak the evening of Monday, January tenth, to further investigate the scene. I am nearing the top of the hill. I see the outline of two men near the ditch. I can't see anything well because it's getting dark. I'm going in closer to try to hear what the men are saying."

Kate heard muddled voices that grew clearer and louder. Kate, Luke and Jacques looked at each other, as they overheard one man say in English: "Everything needs to be set up perfectly before I call the press release tomorrow. Do we have enough bodies?"

The second man said: "Yes. We're good, Joe. Don't sweat it. I told you I would take care of it, and I did."

There was silence for a few seconds, and then they heard someone running and breathing heavily for about twenty seconds until the recording abruptly stopped.

Jacques looked quizzically at Luke and Kate. "This sounds to me like evidence implicating the director of your Verification Mission in the staging of the Racak massacre."

Gunter's audiocassette was exactly what they needed to stop the war, Kate thought excitedly. It was time to fill in the blanks for Montblanc.

She looked at Luke. He had been clear that he wasn't receptive to feeding information to the media. Would this evidence change his mind? She couldn't read his face.

"Jacques, could Luke and I have a moment alone, please?" she asked.

"Certainly," he said, exiting the room. He closed the door to give them privacy.

Kate said softly, "I think we should tell Jacques what we know about Watson, what we discovered at Racak, and about the thief who stole our film," she said.

"Okay," Luke said.

"Really?" she asked.

He paused. "I thought about what you said last night, and you were right. Exposing the truth is what Gunter was trying to do when he disappeared. I owe it to him to see this through."

Kate opened the door, and Jacques reappeared shortly thereafter.

"Are you ready for the story of your life?" Kate asked.

Jacques smiled. "Absolutely."

They told him everything. Jacques filled his steno pad with copious notes. At the end, Kate asked, "This sounds farfetched, doesn't it?"

"Not really," Jacques said. "Last week when you said that Gunter had told you that he had seen Joe Watson in Racak the day before the massacre was unveiled, I started looking into Watson's background. Given his experience, it doesn't surprise me in the least that he was involved in faking the Racak massacre."

"What do you mean?" Luke asked.

"Would you like the long version or the short version?" Jacques asked, smiling.

# Chapter 48

Jacques began, "Until a few months ago, Watson spent his entire career on the surface as a State Department diplomat in Central America. Diplomats usually rotate to different regions every few years, whereas the CIA stations agents in a region long term, because it takes time to develop a credible cover and exploit relationships for intelligence collection. This was my first clue that Joe Watson was CIA.

"In the eighties one of Watson's official jobs was assistant to the U.S. Ambassador to Honduras. He was in Honduras when the Contra rebel force, the CIA's anti-Communist faction, was formed. During the Iran-Contra hearings, Watson admitted to orchestrating a fake humanitarian operation in neighboring El Salvador to funnel guns back to the Contra rebels in Honduras. So a guy who did something like that in the eighties would certainly be capable of doctoring a crime scene in Kosovo to further American interests."

Jacques continued, "Then I got to thinking: who is Dr. Randall? In Watson's press briefing he referred to Dr. Randall as a noteworthy forensic scientist, more than capable of evaluating the crime scene at Racak."

Luke said, "She's CIA, too?"

Jacques laughed. "I love how you Americans always jump to the CIA conclusion on everything. I suppose because the lifestyle of a secret agent seems so glamorous? No, I don't think she's CIA. I think she's simply Watson's patsy. I believe they chose her for the job because she just marginally qualifies as a forensic scientist. Before she came to Kosovo she was a veterinarian in upstate New York. Now how is somebody like that suddenly a forensics expert? I think Watson is using her simply to lend 'scientific' credibility to the story he told the world about Racak."

Kate said, "I've never even seen Dr. Randall? Have you, Luke?"

Luke said, "Watson introduced her to all of us observers in the office a few weeks ago, but I haven't seen her since. I..."

Luke's words were cut off by the blast of the windowpane shattering. 

# Chapter 49

"Get down!" Luke yelled. Kate knew she should take cover, but her mind was working to process what had just happened, and she couldn't convince her body to move. Kate glanced at Jacques, who also appeared paralyzed by the event.

She noticed a small circle of red blood on Jacques's forehead. He had been hit by a shard of glass, she thought. "Jacques, you're bleeding," she informed him.

"Kate, now!" Luke ordered. He pushed her under Jacques's desk, covering her head and neck with his upper torso. The weight of his body on hers was crushing. She struggled to breathe.

The sound of glass breaking and bullets riddling Jacques's office furniture was deafening. Suddenly there was a pause in gunfire, and it was very quiet. Luke moved off of Kate and lay down next to her. He turned his head to face her.

"It's time to run," he whispered. She gulped and nodded. He scanned the office and said, "We'll low crawl to that door back there. We can escape."

They crossed shards of glass from the blown out windows, snaking across the room on their hands and knees toward the metal door. The gunfire erupted again. Kate froze on the ground, covering her head. Luke crawled ahead of her. She looked up and saw him reach his hand to the doorknob. He twisted the knob, and the door opened. He motioned for Kate to crawl into the hallway beyond the door. Her body felt heavy, but she willed herself to move forward. She crossed the threshold into the dark hallway. Luke slammed the door, and they both stood up and ran down the dark hallway, away from the sound of bullets firing.

"There's a flight of stairs at the end of the hallway," he said. "It's our way out." They descended three flights of stairs, leaping downwards, holding onto the railway for support as their momentum jettisoned them down and around the corners.

They flung open the bottom level door and found themselves in an alley behind the building. They ran as fast as they could down the alley, away from the main street where the sniper had been shooting into the windows of the office building.

At the end of the alley was a minor road. "This way," Luke said, pointing to his left. As they careened westward, a woman stepped out from behind a dumpster at the end of the alley, directly in front of their path.

Kate and Luke stopped in their tracks. Luke recognized the woman. "Dr. Randall, what are you doing here?" he asked.

"Quickly," she said, "Come with me."

Dr. Randall turned to address Kate gently. "Let's go, Kate. We have to keep moving if we want to stay alive."

Kate stood perfectly still. Dr. Randall was the red haired woman.

Luke interrupted Kate's scrambled thoughts. He touched her arm and said quietly, "Come on, Kate. We have to get out of here."

Kate nodded. There wasn't time to consider whether Dr. Randall could be trusted. They had to run.

# Chapter 50

Luke and Kate sprinted to keep up with Dr. Randall, who led them zigzagging down alleys and in between buildings.

Dr. Randall's pace eventually slowed. They stopped in front of a whitewashed concrete apartment building. Dr. Randall pushed one of the buzzers, and the apartment door opened almost immediately.

"Go all the way to the top floor," she ordered.

Lumbering up the stairway was a different type of burden on Kate's legs than sprinting through the streets of Pristina in the bitter cold. She breathed in the warm hallway air and looked up, toward their destination on the top floor. A heavy grey metal door slid open slowly and loudly, like a medieval drawbridge being lowered to permit entrants. Kate crossed the threshold of the apartment, and Luke scrambled into the apartment's atrium right behind her. Dr. Randall rolled the heavy door shut behind them.

A swarthy man holding an AK-47 addressed Dr. Randall in Albanian. "What were you thinking, bringing them here?" he asked angrily, in a raspy voice.

Dr. Randall ignored the man's complaint. "Get them blankets. I'll put a pot of hot water on the stove. It's freezing out there."

Kate hadn't thought about the temperature while they were busy evading the sniper. She shivered now, noticing how cold her bare hands felt, how exposed her skin had been in the single-digit degree weather outside. She balled and opened her hands, encouraging circulation.

"Make yourselves comfortable," Dr. Randall told the pair. "Tea will be ready in a few minutes."

Kate sat down on the couch. Luke remained standing near the door, as if he were thinking about what move to make next. His gaze caught hers. He walked over and joined her on the sofa. The Albanian man reappeared with blankets, and then he disappeared into a back room. They wrapped the blankets around themselves.

Luke whispered to Kate, "Are you all right?"

Kate frowned. "We left Jacques."

"He was dead, Kate. The sniper's first bullet killed him instantly."

She shuddered, recounting her last vision of Jacques, upright at the table, a small circle of blood on his forehead. She thought he had only been cut by glass, and that he had been motionless and speechless because he was in shock.

"If you hadn't thrown me under Jacques's desk, I'd be riddled with bullets right now," she said. She looked at Luke, grateful that he had reacted quickly to preserve both of their lives.

Dr. Randall returned from the kitchen with a pot of tea and three cups.

"I wouldn't have expected a forensic scientist to be so good at outrunning people with guns," Luke said, a bit accusingly.

"You do what you have to do," Dr. Randall replied curtly.

Here I am, Kate thought, in the same room as the red haired woman, the woman who holds all of the answers to my questions.

Dr. Randall seemed to read Kate's mind. "What would you like to know first, Kate?"

"What is your relationship to Hashim Tanem?" Kate asked.

"He's a business associate."

"What is the CIA's business with the leader of the KLA?" Luke asked.

"Certainly you could venture a guess, Captain Davis?" Her question sounded more like a challenge than a query.

"How do you know my name?" asked Kate.

"Hashim spoke of you. He told me you had been detained." She finished pouring the tea and looked up at Kate. "He also said you were leaving Kosovo."

"He advised me to go," Kate said.

"But you're still here."

Kate contemplated Dr. Randall's comment. Kate had ignored Tanem's warning, choosing to remain with Luke in Kosovo, and the decision had almost gotten her killed this morning. What _was_ she still doing here, she wondered.

Luke asked, "Who killed Jacques Montblanc?"

Dr. Randall said, "The man who murdered Monsieur Montblanc this morning was gunning for the two of you. You were his targets, and you were lucky to escape."

"Jakob Otto," Kate muttered.

"That's right," Dr. Randall said. She looked surprised that Kate knew of Otto.

"Why are you protecting us?" asked Luke.

Dr. Randall frowned. "You don't deserve to be murdered by a psychopath. Otto's after you to ameliorate his own mistakes. That's a bad reason to shoot a person."

"What do you mean?" Luke asked.

"Don't try to understand it all," Dr. Randall said, shaking her head. "Right now what you should be considering is your own survival. Otto is a trained assassin, and you are lucky to have escaped him this morning. You may not be so lucky next time. You're safe here, for now."

"We need to go," Luke asserted.

"Don't be a fool, Captain Davis. You are no match for a trained assassin. Your best bet is to lay low for a while."

Luke fumed, "And cease plans to expose the CIA's involvement in precipitating a war in Kosovo? That's exactly what we would expect you to suggest, Dr. Randall."

"That's true, Captain Davis," Dr. Randall said coolly. "I would prefer your silence. But unlike others in my organization, I do not believe you are so great a threat to our operations that you should be killed."

Kate felt restless. She thought about Gunter's audiocassette that was somewhere amidst the debris of Jacques's office. Without that tape, she and Luke had no hard evidence of Watson's involvement in the staging of the Racak massacre. They had to figure out a way to get to the _Le Monde_ office to retrieve the evidence without running themselves back into Otto's crosshairs. She stood up. "Are we free to leave?" Kate asked, standing.

Dr. Randall stood, too. "I'd like nothing more than to detain you here for your own safety. As long as Otto is out there tracking you, your lives are in danger. But you're free to go. I have to get back to the operations center before anybody wonders where I've been. I'll return within a few hours."

Donning her hat and gloves, Dr. Randall said to Kate, "If you're here when I return, I'll tell you what you want to know about your father." She pulled the heavy metal door closed behind her.

_The woman with all of the answers_ , Kate thought.

# Chapter 51

"We should leave," said Kate to Luke. "She mentioned my father to lure us to stay, to stall us from leaking our information to the media."

Kate's stomach dropped. "Oh no! What if she's headed back over to the _Le Monde_ office right now to look for Gunter's tape? We need to go back to retrieve the evidence right now."

Luke said, "Dr. Randall said Otto was after us to cover up his own mistake. Otto must be the man talking to Watson in Gunter's recording, and Otto's mistake was that he referred to Watson by name in the recording. If Otto saw the three of us listening to the audiocassette in Jacques's office, then as soon as he finished shooting, he would have had enough time to enter the office to retrieve the evidence before the police arrived."

Kate said, "Even without hard evidence, we have a decent story to tell about CIA's involvement in Racak, and about a rogue operative who killed a reporter- and who tried to kill two analysts- to silence the truth."

Luke shook his head. "Dr. Randall said she'll be back soon. Let's lay low for a few hours, and then we can hear what she has to say about your father. Tonight we can figure out our next move and leave here permanently."

Kate muttered, "I don't want to wait. I want to do something."

"You chose to stay in Kosovo to investigate your father's connection to Kosovo, and this is a perfect opportunity for you to make some progress on that front. After that we can cut Dr. Randall loose once and for all, and then get back to the business of finding Gunter."

Luke picked up a piece of paper and a pen from the coffee table, scribbling something quickly for Kate to read.

She peered over his shoulder. His note said: "They are listening to us. I have a plan. I promise."

She looked at him. "Okay," she said quietly.

He walked over to the bookcase in the living room. "Dr. Randall has a decent collection of literature here." He picked a book off the shelf and smiled. "Look, she's got Richard Condon's _The Manchurian Candidate_. So CIA agents enjoy a good political thriller just like the rest of us, eh?"

Kate wasn't interested in playing along with his charade. She joined Luke at the bookshelf. "I can't just sit here and read while we wait for Dr. Randall to return."

"Look, here's Ayn Rand's _Atlas Shrugged_ ," he said. "Didn't you tell me that first night we met that this is one of your favorite novels?" He handed her the paperback. "We both could use a break."

She took the book and plopped down on the couch. He sat down next to her, _The Manchurian Candidate_ in hand.

A short while later Kate looked at Luke, his head resting against the back of the couch. She had not realized that he had fallen asleep. She looked at her watch, incredulous that she had been reading for almost two hours. The time had flown by.

He stirred. He looked at her and smiled as he stretched his arms.

A moment later the heavy metal door opened. Dr. Randall was back.

# Chapter 52

"Carryout from Taverna," Dr. Randall announced, holding a large bag of food. "This is the best _sufflage_ you can get in Pristina."

Ibrahim popped out of his room in the back. He joined Dr. Randall in the kitchen, retrieving plates, silverware and glasses to set the dining room table. As soon as everybody was seated, their plates full of the Albanian version of Greek souvlaki, Dr. Randall got down to business.

"The two of you must leave Kosovo first thing tomorrow morning. The war is only a few days away, and once the bombs start dropping, you aren't going to want to be here."

Luke looked nonplussed. Turning to Dr. Randall, he said, "So while we're trying to figure out what we're going to do next, why don't you tell us about yourself? You're CIA, and you're here under the cover of being a forensic scientist. Did you stage the Racak massacre?"

Dr. Randall smiled. She took a sip of her wine. She seemed to be taking extra time to consider how to respond to Luke's query. "I admire your tenacity, Captain Davis. I suppose you deserve some information to quench your curiosity."

She continued, "I was supposed to set up the Racak mass grave site for Watson's media show. I showed up a few days too late, and Otto arranged things in my absence. He botched the scene. Quite frankly, I'm surprised that nobody other than the two of you questioned the authenticity of Racak, as Otto's job was reprehensible."

Luke asked, "What happened to Gunter Gruber?"

Dr. Randall said, "Last week Watson advised all agents in country that apprehending Gruber was top priority, as we believed he possessed evidence implicating the CIA in the staging of Racak. But I know you already know about the evidence, because you listened to the tape this morning at the _Le Monde_ office."

_She knows about the tape_ , Kate thought dejectedly. "Where is the audiocassette now?" asked Kate. She knew what Dr. Randall would say.

"Otto retrieved and then destroyed it."

There was silence. The only hard evidence Kate and Luke had was gone. Hashim Tanem's advice that there was nothing they could do to stop the impending war seemed to be ringing true.

Dr. Randall asked, "We know Captain Marchak gave you the tape. When were you able to meet with him?"

"He left the tape at the front desk of the Hotel Ambassador in an envelope during my detainment," Kate said hollowly.

"Do you know where Marchak is now?" Dr. Randall asked.

Luke responded quickly. "No, we don't know where Captain Marchak is. Do you know where Gunter Gruber is?"

"According to Watson, Gunter is still unaccountable."

"Do you believe that?" Luke asked.

Dr. Randall dodged the question. "If Gruber were smart, he would have left Kosovo last week. He could be anywhere in the world by now."

"But why would Gunter have discarded the evidence in the forest? Why not keep it?" Kate asked.

"Watson and Otto saw Gruber at the site and chased him. Gruber probably dropped the tape as he was running away. He must have known that his life was in danger."

"We're not leaving until we find out what happened to Gunter Gruber," said Luke.

"If the CIA can't find him, I doubt the two of you will be able to locate him," Dr. Randall said.

_Dr. Randall was probably right about that_ , Kate thought. They didn't have any leads, and they certainly didn't have access to surveillance technology or a human intelligence network like the CIA. If finding Gunter was unlikely, then perhaps it was time to focus their efforts on stopping the war.

Kate asked, "What is your connection to my father?"

Dr. Randall sighed. She stood up, filled her wine glass as she topped off Kate's. "It's getting dark. Ibrahim, why don't you show Captain Davis his accommodations for the evening? I promised Kate some answers."

Dr. Randall carefully carried their wine glasses into the living room. "Please make yourself comfortable, Kate. It's a long story."

# Chapter 53

"Your father wasn't CIA, Kate."

"Then what was he doing with the map?" Kate asked.

"It wasn't his map. It was mine."

"What do you mean?" Kate asked.

"Operation Horseshoe was the CIA's backup plan, in the event we needed something more sensational than the Racak massacre to get the war going. While we never expected to have to use it, some believed we should have more ammunition available so that if public support for a NATO air campaign over Kosovo waned, we could leak Operation Horseshoe."

"What is Operation Horseshoe?" Kate asked.

"We had information that a handful of Serb leaders supported a military plan to encircle and push out the Kosovar Albanian population into Albania proper. This intelligence was credible, but it lacked detail, and we weren't able to gather any additional corroborating information to prove the Serbs were planning to commit genocide. Without evidence, it would have been easy for Milosevic to deny such a plan existed, and for statesmen to question the credibility of the intelligence.

"We decided to add a few details of our own to breathe life into Operation Horseshoe. We knew there were Serb military outposts in Pec, Urosevac and Podujevo, so we used those units as points along the horseshoe. The map you found in your house in Chicago was the Operation Horseshoe prototype map I drafted."

"I don't believe it," Kate said.

"The intelligence was there, Kate. The Serbs wanted to drive the Albanians out of Kosovo, and we had a credible intelligence report to confirm this. The Serbs had even named their effort Operation Horseshoe; we didn't make that up. We just filled in the blanks to make the war effort more palatable to the American public."

Kate shook her head, not wanting to believe that her own government was capable of such spin doctoring. She took a deep breath, reminding herself to stay calm. Tonight was an opportunity to glean as much information from Dr. Randall as possible, and she had to remain focused on the task at hand. "What was your map doing in my father's study in Chicago?" Kate asked.

"I was concerned that your dad's death wasn't accidental. I went back to the bungalow during the funeral to look for clues of forced entry, or of anything that seemed suspicious. The map fell out of my pocket in the study when I was looking for evidence. You came home earlier than I had expected, and I hid in the closet. I saw you take the map."

Kate shook her head. "Why would you think my dad may have been murdered?"

"To get to me." Dr. Randall looked down at her hands in her lap. "I was married to Alex Bennett a long time ago. Early in our marriage a Soviet assassin came to our house looking for me. The incident made me realize that my involvement in the CIA could cost Alex his life. I told Alex what had happened, and that we had no choice but to part ways. He reluctantly agreed to our separation.

"This past December one of my friends in Washington got word that Alex had passed away. She called me, and I went back to Chicago to investigate his death. My connection to Alex was so long ago that the possibility of murder was slight, but I had to know that I was not the cause of his passing."

"Did you find anything?" Kate asked.

"No."

"So my dad never had an undercover life?"

"No," Dr. Randall said. "He loved his work, manufacturing mine safety equipment."

Kate thought about what Dr. Randall had told her. She said, "He never told me that he had been married to anybody other than my mother."

"Your dad and I were childhood friends. I was foolish to believe that we could live a normal life together with the career I had chosen. He deserved better."

"Did you miss staging Racak because you were in Chicago?" Kate asked.

"Yes. I'd been in Kosovo training the KLA to be the ground force complementing NATO's air force against the Serbs. In October Joe Watson was commissioned to run the Kosovo Verification Mission. His job was to bring a handful of CIA operatives into Kosovo under the guise of Verification Mission observers.

"In November we discovered the KLA was planning on ratcheting up attacks against Serb police. We knew this would do nothing but get the KLA into trouble with the Verification Mission, so we decided it was time to step it up a notch, to paint the Serbs as the bad guys. Watson and I started planning out the details of the staged massacre in December."

Kate shook her head. "How are you so comfortable with this charade?"

"You're missing the big picture, Kate; this is all for a greater good. With Milosevic out of the way, Kosovo has a chance at democracy."

"Do you really believe that?" Kate asked.

"I believe we are shaping the future here the way we want it to be. The decisions being made today are being made with the best intentions in mind, with concern for the fewest number of casualties over the long term. The demise of the dictator bears political and economic fruit like never before."

"What happened to you to make you believe that you have the right to drive outcomes in a place that is not your own?" Kate asked.

Dr. Randall swished the wine around in her glass. "The place may not be my own, but the fight is." She looked at Kate. "Do you really want to know how I became so invested in the future of Kosovo?

"Yes," Kate said.

"The story starts long before you were born," Dr. Randall said. "Are you sure you're up for this?"

Kate nodded.

# Chapter 54

"The CIA recruited me right after I graduated from Dartmouth. I fit their profile perfectly: I was a top student, I wasn't one of those liberal hippie types, and I wasn't particularly close to my family. It was the height of the Cold War, and the CIA had a specific purpose for me. They expected me to pursue this single objective my entire covert career, until either the U.S. or the Soviets won the Cold War.

"They sent me to the University of Sarajevo under the guise of being a Russian graduate student. At the time the Soviets were sending lots of students into Iron Curtain countries to study, to help maintain Moscow's influence on the outskirts of the empire. Nobody ever questioned my cover.

"My orders were to infiltrate the university student government organization and to befriend one Slovenian, one Croatian and one Serbian student, each of whom exhibited great leadership potential. My objective was to persuade each of these men over time that communism was a failed socioeconomic model, and that the United States was destined to win the Cold War because capitalism was better. After I successfully convinced the three students of this, my job was to groom each of them separately to lead the breakup of Yugoslavia when the time was right.

"The CIA believed segmenting Yugoslavia along ethnic lines would be the easiest way to overthrow Marshal Tito. They knew a revolution from within would be the most effective way to bring down communism, which is why they were meticulous in masterminding a decades-long covert operation. Similar CIA operations were happening in Hungary, Czechoslovakia, Poland, Romania and Bulgaria.

"I first met Marko Tomic, a Croatian. He was amicable, intelligent, gentle and charming. He was tall, with dark hair and blue eyes. His perpetual smile revealed his eternal optimism. Marko was studying philosophy, and during our many conversations he agreed that communism sounded good on paper, but that capitalism worked better in practice, as man's motivations were inherently selfish.

"I spent as much time as I could with Marko. In a few of my reports back to CIA headquarters I suggested that Marko, a born leader, was fit to rule a democratic and unified Yugoslavia, and that a segregation along ethnic lines was unnecessary with somebody like Marko at the helm. Marko was starkly opposed to ethnic segregation. He loved the diversity of Sarajevo and believed Sarajevo could serve as a model to the world of how people of different backgrounds could live together peacefully.

"I agreed with Marko's philosophy, but the CIA did not. They sent an agent to Sarajevo to remind me that I had been given no leniency to decide for myself what was best for the future of Yugoslavia. I refocused my efforts on finding a Serb and a Slovenian leader.

"Finding the right Slovenian was easy. I met Matthias Novak at a student rally against communism. Matthias didn't trust me initially because I was a Soviet. I told him that I didn't consider myself a Soviet; rather, I was a Russian, and that I had left Moscow because I saw firsthand that communism was failing, and I wanted to be somewhere vibrant, like Sarajevo, where there was promise of a different future. He believed me, and we became friends.

"Matthias, like Marko, was charismatic and driven. He was also a natural leader, and very proud of his Slovenian heritage. He reminded me frequently that Slovenes were more culturally similar to Austrians than to the Serbs. The CIA found Matthias to be the perfect candidate."

Kate interrupted. "You befriended the current president of Slovenia? Are you going to tell me that you played a role in facilitating the secession of Slovenia from Yugoslavia in 1991?"

Dr. Randall nodded. "Everybody thinks Slovenian and Croatian independence, and the subsequent Bosnian war of independence, happened naturally after the Berlin Wall fell, but that wasn't true. The CIA had been planning the overthrow of Tito for years; they were just waiting for the climate to be right, and that was the case in 1991."

Dr. Randall continued. "Finding a Serb leader was a challenge. None of the Serbs I met seemed to have the character necessary to lead a revolution. I proposed to the CIA that seeking out a student at the University of Belgrade in Serbia proper would prove more fruitful, but they said I could not risk alienating Marko and Matthias by leaving Sarajevo. I had to find a Serb candidate in Sarajevo, even though it seemed to me that all of the best options were likely back in Belgrade.

"Marko and I were dining in a coffeehouse in Sarajevo one day when Slobodan Milosevic entered the cafe. Milosevic knew Marko and approached our table."

"I don't believe it," Kate muttered.

Dr. Randall smiled. "How I wish in hindsight that it were anybody other than Milosevic whom I met that day. Marko was usually friendly with everyone, but I noticed a look of apprehension in his gaze when he saw Milosevic approach.

"When Marko introduced me as a student from Moscow, Milosevic confessed immediately that he was certain the Soviets would win the Cold War, as communism was a much more decent and fair way of life. He rambled on and on about the virtues of communism. I felt uncomfortable being around him, and he seemed to have the same effect on Marko.

"Marko and I didn't speak of Milosevic for a few days. Late one night I asked Marko how he knew Milosevic. He said they had attended elementary school together. Milosevic's father had accepted a magistrate job in their little Croatian town, and the Milosevic family lived there for about four years.

"Marko said Milosevic was a bully who would frequently tell the other kids that Serbs were better than Croats. One day when Milosevic complained to Marko about not having any friends, Marko suggested to Milosevic that he keep his political opinions to himself. Marko said Milosevic seem to make an effort to do this, and he wasn't as much of an outcast at school after that.

"The CIA was bugging me to find a Serb recruit immediately. I reported that I was working on co-opting Slobodan Milosevic. I gave them Milosevic's background, and the CIA absolutely loved him. They believed he would be an ideal candidate to lead Serbia: he was a nationalist, and he was insecure, hungry for power and validation.

"As I got to know Milosevic, I realized he was not a good choice. I sent back reports on Milosevic to the CIA, outlining my concerns about Milosevic's character. He was an egomaniac, I reported. If he ruled Yugoslavia, I cautioned the CIA, he would be a dictator. Headquarters told me to press on and to stop worrying about it.

"Milosevic was so pro-Soviet that I had to take a different approach with him than with Marko and Matthias. I told him my family in Moscow was wealthy, and that they were eager to financially support a viable successor to Tito to rule a strong and unified Yugoslavia.

"As I mentioned before, my sole purpose was to convince Marko, Matthias and Milosevic- the triad the CIA had coined 'the three M's- that when the time was right, they should make plans to overthrow Tito and partition Yugoslavia into three components, which 'the three M's' would govern democratically. I believed Marko's philosophical concerns with communism would motivate him. I was absolutely convinced Matthias would be on board. I had groomed Milosevic to rule, and all I could do was hope that his reign would lead to a democratic Serbia when the U.S. won the Cold War.

"As I started to put more pressure on Marko, it became evident that he wanted nothing to do with politics; he was a philosopher and a poet. He didn't like Tito, but he abhorred the thought of planning anybody's demise. He believed Yugoslavs should themselves choose what would happen when Tito's rule ended.

"The CIA instructed me to cease interaction with Marko, as he was no longer a good candidate for leadership. I was devastated by the prospect of losing the closest friend I'd ever had. You see, I had fallen in love with Marko Tomic.

"A CIA agent came to visit me. He reminded me that CIA was my family, and that my contacts weren't my friends, and that eventually I would have to disengage with all of them. I angrily stated that my personal life was none of the CIA's business. The agent corrected me, stating that my personal business ceased to be personal when I joined the CIA. I was outraged.

"Since Marko was no longer an asset to the CIA, and because I trusted him completely, I told him the truth. I thought that if he understood the pressure I was under from the CIA, perhaps we could figure out a way to make our relationship work. I believed I could quit the agency, and Marko and I could hide out for a few years in Eastern Europe until I was off the CIA's radar."

"When I told him the truth, he was angry that I had tried to manipulate him, and he was right to be furious. I had loved him, but I had given him nothing but a lie to love in return. He said he couldn't trust me, and without trust, we had nothing.

"I begged him to forgive me, but he said he could not. After a few agonizing weeks, I realized I had no choice but to respect his position. When he graduated that spring, I attended the ceremony, to see him one last time before he returned to Croatia. When he saw me there, his face fell. I had hurt him so badly, and there was nothing I could say to try to make things right. I was supposed to spend the next year and a half in Sarajevo without Marko, grooming Matthias and Milosevic, but about a month after Marko's graduation, I..."

Dr. Randall stopped herself in midsentence and looked up. Ibrahim and Luke had reappeared from the back of the apartment.

Dr. Randall stood. "It's getting late," she said. "I've hired a driver to take you to Sarajevo tomorrow morning where you'll be safe. Once you get there, you can figure out what to do next. Good night."

# Chapter 55

As she settled into one of the guest room's twin beds, she spied Luke's frame in the light of the hallway. He was retiring early, too. He closed the door and sat down on his bed, facing her.

"What a day," she said quietly, sitting up.

"What did Dr. Randall tell you?" he asked.

"Back in the seventies Dr. Randall groomed Matthias Novak and Slobodan Milosevic to eventually divide Yugoslavia into ethnic conclaves."

"You mean the CIA had been planning the breakup of Yugoslavia for decades?" he asked incredulously.

She nodded. "Apparently it was part of the U.S.'s strategy to take down the Soviets. The CIA would break up the Iron Curtain piece by piece, making it look like revolutions from within were spreading among the satellite countries."

"Why did the CIA want a Slovenian leader and a Serb leader? Why not a Croatian leader, too?"

"There was one," she said.

"Who? Franjo Turin, the current Croatian president?"

She shook her head. "No. A philosopher named Marko Tomic. But Tomic didn't end up fitting the CIA's bill. Dr. Randall was about to tell me what happened after things fell through with Tomic when you and Ibrahim reappeared."

"Did she tell you about her connection to your father?" Luke asked.

"She said they were married for a short period of time many years ago. She said he wasn't CIA, and the Operation Horseshoe map was hers. She had returned to Chicago to investigate my dad's death, to ensure it was an accident. She was the one in the bungalow the night of the funeral. A bit of Cold War paranoia, if you ask me, thinking that somebody might want to take out a guy who's been separated from his ex-wife for thirty years."

"Did she tell you the purpose of the map?" he asked.

"She said Operation Horseshoe was the backup plan she had drafted in the event the CIA needed something more than the Racak massacre to get the war going."

"Well, even though we suspected it was the case, it's reassuring to know that the Serbs haven't orchestrated an official ethnic cleansing operation." he said.

"What's our plan for tomorrow?" she asked.

His eyes moved and lingered on the smoke detector on the ceiling. "Let's talk about it on the ride to Sarajevo," he said, his gaze focused on the smoke detector.

Was he indicating that there was a listening device in the room? She looked at him quizzically. He nodded.

"Okay. We can figure everything out in the morning," she said.

She lay back down and pulled the covers over her shoulders. She watched him edge himself into his own bed, facing away from her. She noticed the contours of his back through his t-shirt, and she watched him for a while, his torso expanding and contracting slower and slower as his body relaxed. His rhythmic breathing, like the ebb and flow of ocean waves, soon lulled her to sleep.

# Chapter 56

Luke and Ibrahim were conversing in a mix of Albanian and English when Kate entered the kitchen. Dr. Randall sat at the table reading a newspaper, a cup of coffee in hand. Without looking up she said, "Good morning, Kate. Please help yourself to breakfast. You and Luke will leave thereafter. Your car and driver are parked downstairs and ready for you."

Kate nodded mechanically. Ever since she awoke all she could think about was wanting to know Luke's plan. He had said last night that he'd tell her the plan on the way to Sarajevo. She expected that this was just a ruse, and that they weren't actually going to leave Kosovo, but that he wanted to give whomever was listening the false sense of security that they would be following Dr. Randall's instructions.

But did he really have a plan? If not, then she needed to think quickly what their next move would be. Should they look for Captain Marchak, to see if he retained a copy of Gunter's tape? Or would it be impossible to find him? Would it be better to go directly to the media with their story, without any proof? Would anybody believe them?

Dr. Randall interrupted Kate's thoughts. "What will you do once you get to Sarajevo?" she asked Luke. Luke looked at Kate, as if to ask her silent approval for what he was about to say. "I thought we might go back to Stuttgart and wait things out there. I'll go back to work when my leave ends. Kate, you can stay with me until you're ready to go back to Washington. What do you think?"

She nodded, playing along with his story. "That sounds good to me," she said. "I'd like to see a little bit of Germany before heading home."

They finished breakfast. At the front door Dr. Randall said, "Here are gloves, hats and scarves, and some cash to get you by for a while. Good luck to you both. Your driver is waiting for you at the bottom of the steps."

They descended the steep stairway. As Kate opened the front door, the cold wind hit her abruptly. She wrapped the scarf around her face, shielding her cheeks and her mouth.

They climbed into the back of the black sedan. They sat in silence.

A short while later, on the outskirts of Pristina, Luke spoke to the driver in Albanian. "I need to urinate," he said. "Could you please pull over?"

The driver grunted. He pulled the car over to the side of the road.

Kate recognized the area. They were very close to Pristina Airfield.

She saw Luke pull something shiny and blunt out of his backpack. What was he doing?

A moment later Luke struck the driver, rendering him unconscious. He grabbed Kate's arm.

"Come on," he said. "We've got a plane to catch."

# Chapter 57

"Where are we going?" Kate asked breathlessly as they sprinted toward the front gate of Pristina Airfield.

"Stuttgart. The C-130 leaves in ten minutes."

"Stuttgart? I thought that plan you crafted for Dr. Randall was a lie." Kate stopped running. "I'm not going with you. I will not run away."

He stopped and turned to face her. "We're not fleeing, Kate. We're going to Munich to meet with Secretary Anderson. If we can convince her that the impending war would be fought on false pretenses, then maybe she will put a halt to it all."

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

"Ibrahim had the TV on in his room last night, while you and Dr. Randall were talking. I got to see a few tidbits of CNN. In one clip a reporter was talking about how the Air Force started running daily C-130 flights between Stuttgart and Pristina yesterday, bringing supplies for the impending war. In the next segment a journalist was interviewing Secretary Anderson, who will be meeting with NATO officials tomorrow evening over dinner at the Hotel Munchener.

"My car's parked on base at Stuttgart. It's only a two hour drive to Munich, so I really think we can get to the Hotel Munchener before Secretary Anderson's important dinner. But we have to keep running if we want to catch that plane."

She liked this plan. "How will we get on the plane?"

He grinned widely. "CNN interviewed Lieutenant Scudder last night to talk about the C-130 runs. He's the officer in charge of the missions. As far as Chip knows, we're still Verification Mission personnel. He won't bat an eyelash if we show up looking for a hop back to Stuttgart for a few days of R&R before the war starts."

She said, "We're going to need a plausible story to gain access to the Secretary. And then somehow we've got to convince the Secretary to put off war plans until all of the facts surrounding Racak are sorted out."

Luke nodded. "I know how we can do this. Please trust me, Kate. I have a plan."

They approached the front gate. Inside the guard shack was an inattentive young Serb guard. Luke and Kate flashed their Mission badges, and the disinterested guard waved them through.

Kate saw the C-130 immediately, a giant on the diminutive runway. They made their way to the aircraft. As they approached the tarmac, Kate saw Scudder speaking with another Army soldier.

"Lieutenant Scudder," Luke said, his hand outstretched, as they approached the lieutenant. The other soldier disappeared. Scudder looked surprised to see them. "Sir, what brings you to Pristina Airfield today?"

"You're going to be quite busy here, soon, Chip, with the war on its way."

Scudder replied, "We're shuttling supplies and troops back and forth daily."

Luke nodded. "Is there room on the flight for Ms. Bennett and me? Watson's given us some time off, a calm before the storm. We thought we might jump back to civilization for the evening. We'd fly back tomorrow, if there's space available on the return flight."

"That's no problem at all, sir. The flight to Stuttgart this morning is empty. Tomorrow we'll be bringing back a few soldiers and some supply pallets. I can't imagine there wouldn't be at least two jump seats open tomorrow for your return."

As they boarded the C-130, Luke leaned over and said, "Obstacle number one is down. Now comes the hard part: convincing the Secretary to stop a war of which preparations are already underway." He clicked the shoulder harness on. The pilots revved the engines, and a short while later, they were airborne.

# Chapter 58

"Whether it's the roads or superior German automobile engineering, this is certainly a smoother ride than what the Humvee offers," Kate quipped as they left the Army base in Stuttgart on the A8 highway in Luke's vintage BMW.

"I'm just glad the car started, after having sat in that parking lot unused for months on end," Luke admitted.

"A feat of German engineering, then," she said.

She enjoyed the scenery as they progressed on their journey, through the rolling hills, past the towns of Ulm and Augsburg. "Someday when we're not in such a hurry, I'd like to come back here on vacation," she said. "Germany is breathtaking."

"It is a wonderful country," Luke said. "And I had forgotten how orderly it is compared to Kosovo. It's the little things like cleanliness and road signs that are easy to take for granted in the United States," he said with a smile.

"Did you get to do a lot of travel around Europe before things got tense in Kosovo?"

"Whenever I wasn't on duty I'd try to get out and experience festivals to practice my German. Although I don't think I've met one German who doesn't speak flawless English. It was always a battle, me wanting to practice my German, and my counterpart wanting me to speak English because he could understand me better."

Kate laughed. "What's the best city you've visited?" she asked.

Luke thought a moment. "Probably Munich," he said. "I love the _Englisher Garten_ , with its Chinese pagoda in the middle. My buddies and I would spend hours there on Sunday afternoons, soaking up the sun, listening to the oompah-pah bands, eating gigantic pretzels, and drinking huge steins of the best beer you've ever tasted." She smiled, imaging the scene Luke had painted.

"What about you?" he asked. "What's your favorite city?"

"My dad and I traveled a bit together when I was younger, but we didn't do a lot of cities, perhaps because we lived in one ourselves. We liked to hike. One of my favorite memories was of us exploring the lava fields on the big island of Hawaii. It was magical to be there, standing near such powerful, radiant heat, observing the orange glow of the lava flow in motion. It was such a remarkable opportunity, to experience so intimately a force that was both destructive but also beautiful beyond description."

"Remarkable," he said.

Kate spotted a sign indicating they were nearing Munich. "Should we talk about your plan on how we gain access to the Secretary?" Kate suggested.

"Sure," he said. "We tell a member of Secretary Anderson's detail that we are there to relay a private message from General Willis."

"A message from General Willis?" she asked. "I don't understand."

"That's our ticket to meeting with the Secretary. We tell the security guy we have a private message from General Willis, and then once we have the Secretary's ear, we tell her what we know about Racak."

She asked, "How do you know that the Secretary would take a private message from General Willis? Especially one delivered by us? She knows I'm a State Department intelligence analyst. Doesn't it seem farfetched that the General would relay to us something to tell the Secretary? How could this ruse possibly work?"

Luke said, "I saw the Secretary and the General together in the bar at the Hotel Ambassador the first night you were in Pristina, when I drove you to the hotel. I saw them exchange a kiss. I wondered if knowing about their illicit affair could ever be useful, and today is the day to reveal the trump card."

Kate said, "I remember you had seen something that disturbed you that night." She sighed. "Can you believe that was only a week ago? It feels like it's been months, with all that's happened between now and then." She thought a moment. "So you figure that the security detail knows they're having an affair, and that it's imperative that the affair is kept secret. But any good security detail is going to question why we are the messengers."

Luke said, "Secretary Anderson knows who you are, but the security detail protecting her likely does not. I have an Army uniform in my trunk. I'll put on my uniform to make our appearance look official. As far as the security detail will think, I'm one of General Willis's inner circle officers."

"What about me? Am I relegated to pose as your girlfriend?"

"Not unless you want to wait out in the lobby," he said.

"So what's the plan for me?"

"You're not going to believe this good luck. Right before I deployed to Kosovo one of my colleagues, an Army lieutenant, resigned her commission. Before she left she had given me a few of her extra uniforms to donate. There's a group on base that fixes up old uniforms and gives them to soldiers who don't have a lot of money to buy new uniforms. I was supposed to drop off her uniforms at the base office before I deployed, but I didn't have time, so they've been in my trunk this whole time. Today you can pose as Army Lieutenant Michelle Shelton," he said.

"Isn't impersonating an Army officer a criminal offense?"

"Probably. But isn't the risk worth it, to have the chance to persuade Secretary Anderson to call off the war?" Luke asked.

"Let's do it," she said, taking a deep breath, as they pulled the car up to the ornate front entrance of the grand old Munchener Hotel.

# Chapter 59

The valet parked the BMW while Kate and Luke entered the Munchener Hotel through its front doors. They weren't dressed properly like the other hotel guests, in business suits and skirts. Their casual clothes gave them an air of being young American tourists, their only worldly belongings being the packs on their backs.

Kate pointed. "There's a bathroom over there," she said.

In the bathroom Kate pulled her long into a bun. _I'm Lieutenant Shelton_ , she told herself as she looked in the mirror.

She and Luke met in the hallway. "Where do you think the Secretary is?" Kate asked.

"Let's check the hotel restaurant first," Luke offered. "Even though it's a bit early, perhaps she and her staff have set up shop in there while the security detail scans the space. If she's not there, then we'll have to wait in the lobby until we see her entourage enter."

They were in luck. They opened the restaurant door, and Kate spotted the Secretary and her security detail in the back corner of the restaurant, away from windows and doors. It seemed as if it would be impossible to approach the Secretary privately. Had Luke really thought out how this would work?

The maitre'd approached them. Kate took a deep breath.

"May I help you?" the maitre'd asked in flawless English.

Luke spoke. "Yes, we're Army officers with an important message for Secretary Anderson."

The maitre'd appeared anxious. Kate suspected that he had probably been informed to restrict guest access to the dining room in the Secretary's presence.

Luke said, "Sir, this issue is extremely urgent."

The maitre'd seemed to realize he was in an impossible position. If he denied them access and the situation was indeed dire for the Secretary, then he would be in trouble. If he allowed them in, but they were the ones who posed a threat to the Secretary, he would be responsible. He studied them closely. Luke and Kate did their best to appear agitated by the delay.

Kate saw one of the members of the Secretary's security detachment looking their way. Luke gestured towards him, requesting his presence. The guard approached them. The maitre'd sighed, relieved that the guard was willing to take responsibility for the situation at hand.

Luke addressed the guard. "My name is Captain Luke Davis. This is Lieutenant Shelton. We are here to speak to the Secretary about an urgent issue."

The guard stated simply, "Whatever it is, you can give me the message, and I will pass it on to the Secretary." The guard was smart: he didn't have to try to figure out whether they were a threat or a waste of time if he delivered the message himself.

Luke coughed. Clearing his throat, he said quietly, evenly, "The message is of a private nature, from General Willis."

The guard raised his eyes. He hesitated for a moment, and then he said, "Why don't you give me the message?"

Luke said casually, "You know how this works. They like to communicate directly through their confidants. After that one slip up, they don't like to take chances."

The guard looked uncomfortable. He took a deep breath and escorted them towards the Secretary. Kate could not believe the ruse had worked.

The Secretary looked up. The guard whispered something in her ear. "Excuse me a moment," she said to her security detail as she stood. She looked at Kate and Luke quizzically. "I've been waiting for an intelligence report. It appears as if the analysts chose to deliver it in person. I'll be back in a moment."

The guard held his hand out, holding Luke back. "Why don't you stay here?" the guard suggested. Kate surmised that they couldn't be too careful with the Secretary's safety.

The Secretary walked a short distance from the table, and Kate followed. The Secretary turned to face Kate. Everybody at the table was watching the two women, standing just far enough away so that their conversation could not be heard.

"I'm curious about the nature of this visit, Ms. Bennett. And of your attire. Army Lieutenant Shelton, is it?" She offered a forced smile. "So what is this matter of extreme importance to warrant impersonating a military officer?" the Secretary asked.

"Army Captain Luke Davis and I uncovered information that you need to know. This was the only way we could think to get to you in time."

She interrupted, "Is the chain of command broken? Aren't there a few hundred supervisors you should be speaking to before coming to me with this?"

Kate continued, "Yes, Madam Secretary, but the CIA has thwarted all of our efforts to follow protocol."

Secretary Anderson looked skeptical. "What is it, Ms. Bennett?"

Kate continued, "The mass grave site at Racak was staged by the CIA."

The Secretary tilted her head. "Do you have any proof?"

Kate said, "Captain Davis and I examined the Racak site ourselves. We saw the bodies of young men- and only one young woman- who were all likely KLA soldiers killed in earlier skirmishes with the police. Their gunshot wounds suggested that they were killed in a firefight, and that they were not executed."

"But do you have any proof?" the Secretary asked indignantly.

"We listened to a reporter's audio cassette that confirms Director Watson and one of his associates was at the Racak mass grave site the day before Director Watson supposedly discovered the atrocity. On the tape Director Watson and his associate are discussing the setup of the scene."

The Secretary looked at her wearily. "What do you want me to do, Ms. Bennett?"

Kate said, "You must stop this war, Madam Secretary. The world believes that intervention is necessary to stop a genocide in the works, but this is a false pretense, based on the lies the public has been fed. The only thing going on in Kosovo is a run-of-the-mill insurgency."

The Secretary shrugged her shoulders. She said, "Even if what you say is true, it's too late to stop things. And even if Racak isn't real, Milosevic will murder people again. It's only a matter of time."

Kate asked, "Kosovo is more peaceful now than there was last summer. Why does the war have to happen immediately? Can't you delay things until the truth is sorted out?"

The Secretary said, "I'm not going to waste time arguing with the Europeans about what to do in Kosovo, Ms. Bennett. We wasted years in Bosnia doing this, and too many people died before we were able to figure out how to act. Their blood is on my hands, Ms. Bennett. I will not make the same mistake again."

The Secretary continued. "Milosevic has played with NATO for too long, and we've had enough. It's NATO's fiftieth anniversary in a few weeks, and we're going to celebrate it properly, with a post-Cold War victory in Kosovo under our belts."

"So this is about having a reason to celebrate at a birthday party for NATO? It's not about Kosovo at all, is it?" Kate asked bitterly.

The Secretary replied, "It's about getting rid of the last remaining European dictator, the last of the autocrats. It's about a complete win for NATO. It's about the triumph of democracy. It is about so much more than Kosovo, Kate: it's about everything for which we as Americans stand."

The Secretary said, "Keeping NATO in business keeps America's hold on European politics. NATO is the face of the U.S. in Europe, and Europe is still the place to be, front and center against Russia. It's still us or them, Kate, and I'll be damned if it'll be them. We will win the Cold War decisively."

Kate couldn't believe her ears. The Cold War had been over for years; the U.S. had called the Soviets' bluff. Did the Secretary really believe the Russians were still a threat?

Suddenly Kate realized that she was a fool to think that what she had to say could make any difference. She offered weakly, "The United Nations Security Council will never allow airstrikes. China and Russia will veto it."

"NATO doesn't need United Nations approval to act," the Secretary countered.

Kate said, "Yes, it does. NATO airstrikes without U.N. blessing violate U.N. Resolution 212 in which 'forceful military intervention in any country is aggression and a crime without justification.'"

The Secretary said, "Who is going to stop NATO? We can simply argue that we didn't have time to waste in securing approval from the U.N. for this mission, as we have a dire humanitarian situation on our hands. NATO's action in Kosovo is a test of American leadership. By not containing Kosovo, NATO appears impotent, pointing to its uselessness in the post-Cold War world."

Kate said, "Preserving NATO credibility is not a good reason to start a war in Kosovo."

"Ms. Bennett, this war will happen, even if the means to getting to the war itself is questionable. I'm sorry to disappoint an idealist like you with a lesson in _realpolitik_."

Kate's face was emotionless. "Please accept my resignation from the State Department effective immediately."

The Secretary said, "It's a shame the State Department will be losing such a proficient analyst, but I respect your position, and I wish you the best." As the Secretary extended her hand, Kate thought of one final item to mention. She knew that it would be a grave accusation. But what did she have to lose?

"You and General Willis coordinated with Joe Watson to fabricate Racak, didn't you? That's why the two of you flew down to Pristina in the Black Hawk to meet with him in person. You were giving him the green light to get the operation underway. You knew all about this all along."

Kate saw a spark in the Secretary's green eyes. She wasn't sure if she was seeing anger, fear, or amusement in those eyes. Kate continued, "You either stop this war, or I walk down the street and find the local _Der Spiegel_ office here in Munich, and I go public with what I know."

"If you go to the media with your story, and they believe you, you'll be calling into question the credibility of the United States government. Is that really what you want to do?" the Secretary asked.

"I'm not glad about that, Madam Secretary. But the U.S. government should own up to the lies and deceit. While the world will be keeping a more watchful eye on us moving forward, being transparent in our actions and motivations is the best practice we can put into place for long term international security."

"That's an odd position for an intelligence analyst to take. I would have expected you to understand better the political leverage the United States possesses with the information we collect and analyze," the Secretary said.

"It's one thing to collect and analyze information. And maybe it's also appropriate to work covertly to groom future leaders in other countries, people whom the U.S. believes would foster democracy and peace, like how we supported President Novak's rise to power. But it's an entirely different situation to falsify a crime scene to garner political support for a war effort to show the Russians who's boss."

"What do you mean about President Novak?"

"Dr. Randall told me about her involvement in Yugoslavia over the last three decades."

Secretary Anderson looked surprised. "You spoke to Eleanor?"

"Yes. She told me everything."

Secretary Anderson paused. "You do realize that if you go public with your story, that you'll end your mother's career."

"My mother?" Kate asked.

The Secretary looked puzzled. "Eleanor didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?" Kate asked. Her heartbeat quickened.

"Eleanor Randall is your mother."

"That's impossible," Kate whispered. "My mother was murdered in Chicago when I was two."

"No, she wasn't," the Secretary said. "The Soviets discovered that Eleanor was CIA and sent an assassin to Chicago to kill her. She stymied the assassin and then faked her death to protect you and your father. When your dad passed away in December I called Eleanor in Kosovo to let her know. She, Alex and I had attended high school together in Chicago, and Eleanor and I remained loosely in touch throughout our careers. I knew she would have wanted to know about Alex's passing, and that there was a good chance that she had not already heard, since she was knee-deep in operations in Kosovo."

One of the Secretary's aides approached. "Excuse me, Madam Secretary, but the NATO delegates are beginning to arrive."

The Secretary nodded. Turning to Kate she said, "Good luck, Ms. Bennett, with whatever you decide to do."

# Chapter 60

Kate's mind was spinning. She walked to the front of the restaurant where Luke was waiting for her. He watched her closely as she approached.

"Are you all right?" he asked. "You look as pale as a ghost." She didn't say anything.

"Let's change clothes and get out of here," he offered. They left the hotel in silence, heading out onto the street. Luke took her hand, an unspoken gesture of solidarity. She felt the strength of his grasp, the reassuring warmth of his fingers against hers.

"I know a good place to grab something to eat," he suggested. "Let's walk there, and then we can figure out what to do next."

They crossed the River Isar. "We're headed a few more blocks, to Viktualienmarkt," he said. "On the edge of the farmer's market is a quiet, dark little pub that serves excellent food."

The walk to the restaurant was brief. They chose a booth near the windows that overlooked the market. Although it was getting dark, the market was still busy.

"It didn't appear as if your conversation with Secretary Anderson went well," he said. "It's not your fault, Kate. Plans for this war have been underway for a while, and we were naïve to think that Secretary Anderson would put a stop to it all, just because a couple of intelligence analysts figured out that the Racak massacre was staged. We did the best we could."

"I was foolish to think that we could change things," she said.

The waitress brought their meals. Kate dug into her Swabian-style ravioli while Luke cut his weisswurst into manageable pieces. He frowned. "What happened between you and Secretary Anderson? She said something to you near the end of your conversation that seemed to unnerve you."

"I took a gamble. I told her I knew she and General Willis were in Kosovo last week finalizing the details with Watson on Racak. I threatened to go to the media with the story if she didn't put a stop to the war effort immediately."

He said, "Let me guess: she didn't own up to her involvement."

"Not only that, but she said that if I did go to the media with the story, I'd be jeopardizing my mother's career."

Luke looked puzzled. "Your mother? I thought your mom died when you were little."

"Secretary Anderson believes my mother is the one and only superspy Dr. Randall. But it can't be true," she said. "My mom's death was a huge media event in Chicago. Obviously I don't remember it, because I was only a baby, but my dad saved all of the newspaper clippings. When he thought I was old enough to understand the tragedy of how my mother was killed, he showed me all the information, everything he knew about her death. And since then I've spoken to people who remember the summer the murderer was on the loose, and they remember that my mother was one of the victims. What Secretary Anderson said is impossible."

"How could Secretary Anderson even know Dr. Randall?" he asked.

"She said that she, Dr. Randall and my dad went to high school together in Chicago, and that she and my mother remained in touch."

Luke was silent for a moment. "If Dr. Randall is not your mother, then why would Secretary Anderson have said she was?" Luke asked.

"Maybe she was trying to dish up a personal reason for me not to go to the media," Kate suggested. "Or maybe she was trying to delay our efforts to contact the media. Maybe she thought I would want to confront Dr. Randall immediately, which would buy her time to get the war started."

They sat in silence for a while. "What do you want to do now?" he asked.

"I don't know," she said. "As every hour passes, it seems as if our chance to stop the war slips away."

He seemed to be weighing the options. "I think we should fly back to Pristina tomorrow morning," he suggested. "Let's go back to the safe house so that you can confront Dr. Randall with what Secretary Anderson told you. Then we get back on track for looking for Gunter, if you're up to it."

"I have nowhere else to go," she said.

"You've got your life back in DC," he offered.

"I gave Secretary Anderson a verbal resignation this afternoon."

"What?" he asked.

"It was a rash move, but I don't regret it. I can't go back and pretend that nothing has happened, Luke. I'd be a hypocrite to go back and sit at my cubicle in Washington when I am so ashamed about what our government has done."

"So what are you going to do after you leave Kosovo?"

"I don't know," she admitted.

# Chapter 61

They paid the bill and walked back to the hotel to pick up Luke's BMW. Kate peeked inside the lobby. Secretary Anderson stood behind a podium in the lobby, conducting a press briefing.

"Let's pop in to see what she has to say," Luke said. The duo stood near the door, inside just enough to hear what the Secretary was saying into the journalists' microphones.

"With mounting evidence about the Serb's plans to violate international law," the Secretary said, "I hold out little hope that our efforts to create peace in Kosovo will succeed. The Serbs have proven to us that they cannot be trusted to safeguard the lives of innocent civilians in the province of Kosovo. It is time for the international community to rally together, to devise a plan for intervention."

The Secretary continued, "We have repeatedly asked the Serbs to explain to us how the massacre at Racak could have happened. The Serbs continue to deny knowledge of this event, which we know as truth. Today we gave the Serbs a proposal to consider, and they rejected our terms. Ladies and gentleman, we appear to be on a course towards war. I will take a few questions now."

One reporter asked, "What are the provisions of your proposal, Madam Secretary?"

"NATO would administer Kosovo's new political system, take control of all local broadcast media, and prepare for a referendum on Kosovo's independence after three years."

The reporter asked, "Don't these provisions contradict earlier promises, Madam Secretary? Wasn't there a promise that Kosovo remain part of Yugoslavia?"

The Secretary said, "Milosevic told me this morning that he would accept international, even NATO, troops in Kosovo, in exchange for three things. First, Yugoslavia must keep sovereignty over Kosovo. Second, the Kosovo Liberation Army must be disarmed. Third, the referendum on independence for Kosovo must be removed from the peace agreement."

Secretary Anderson continued, "The Serbs can't pick and choose the terms of the agreement. The Serbs already have blood on their hands from Racak, proving they aren't willing to stop killing. The impending air campaign will ultimately end up saving lives. If NATO doesn't intervene now, then we must be willing to shoulder the burden of guilt once Milosevic fulfills his plan of genocide." She dismissed the journalists' remaining questions.

Luke shook his head. "Mark my words: Milosevic will wait out the bombing campaign. If he gives in after only a few days of bombing, he loses domestic political support. If he waits patiently, he paints himself as a downtrodden leader, picked on by the NATO bully."

Suddenly Kate felt exhausted. "Let's head back to your place in Stuttgart for the night," Kate offered. "We have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow."

Out the window of the BMW Kate watched Munich pass by, thinking about how their departure from the safe house in Pristina was only that morning, yet it had seemed like days ago.

Luke said, "Earlier this evening you said you had nowhere else to go. But you could easily go back to Washington. Bill is there."

"There's nothing going on between us, Luke."

Kate stared ahead, out in front on the highway. "What about you? Do you ever see yourself with someone else?"

He smiled. "I used to think that having a companion would tie me down."

"What changed?"

He stopped smiling. He gripped the steering wheel tighter and stared ahead as the Autobahn passed below their wheels.

He took a deep breath. "I feel comfortable with you. You're driven by your work, and I like that. Your eyes are so bright, revealing how intelligent you are. You're beautiful, and you don't even seem to realize it."

"Oh," she said.

He smiled. "I just poured my heart out to you, and all you say is 'oh'?"

She shook her head. "I didn't know what you thought of me. This past week I tried to ignore my feelings for you, recognizing that we'd be going down separate paths after my brief tour of duty was over."

He glanced sideways at her. "You have feelings for me?"

She laughed. "Of course I do. How could anybody not? You're incredible. I liked you ever since I heard you speak at that conference a few years ago."

"Oh," he said. "Okay. Good."

They parked the BMW on the busy street outside Luke's apartment in Stuttgart. He let her in and flicked on the switch.

"If it's too cold in here, we can stay in an inn down the street," he offered.

"It's fine," she reassured him. "We're only looking at a few hours of rest here anyway before we have to get up to catch the flight back to Pristina."

"Thank you, Kate," he said. "You make everything seem so easy."

# Chapter 62

She noticed Scudder on the tarmac as the C-130 coasted to a stop near the single hangar at Pristina airfield.

"Welcome back, sir and ma'am," Scudder said as Luke and Kate descended the stairs. Kate noticed the bitter chill of the wind as they made their way to the hangar.

Scudder said, "I didn't see your car here at the airfield, Captain Davis. How did you and Ms. Bennett arrive yesterday?"

Kate's stomach dropped, while Luke answered unhesitatingly. "We caught a ride with one of the Mission observers who was headed out this way. He dropped us off at the front gate."

"What time was that?" Scudder asked.

Luke said, "About fifteen minutes before the C-130 was scheduled to take off."

"Did you see anything unusual when you arrived yesterday?" Scudder asked.

"Now that you mention it," Luke said, "I do remember seeing a black sedan on the side of the road where the turnoff to the airfield is. Did something happen?"

Scudder said, "Shortly after the C-130 took off, the pilots radioed down to alert us that they saw a black vehicle near the airfield entrance. A few members of our security detail went over to take a look, and they found a driver unconscious at the wheel. While the security detail was waiting with the man for an ambulance to arrive, the driver woke up. He said that he had been contracted to drive a couple to Sarajevo, and that the male passenger had hit him on the head and knocked him out."

"Where did the man and the woman go?" Kate asked. She hoped her question sounded uncontrived.

"Nobody knows," Scudder said. "We checked with farmers around the immediate area of the airfield. Nobody's seen an unfamiliar man and woman around. The only two people who entered the airfield through the main gate around that time were the two of you. I thought maybe you might have seen something when you arrived yesterday."

Did Scudder suspect that Luke and Kate were the assailants? Kate reassured herself that there was no evidence linking Luke and Kate to the black sedan. She exhaled deeply, actively working to calm herself.

"Sorry we couldn't be of more help," Luke said.

"Is somebody from the Mission picking you up?" Scudder asked.

"No," Luke said.

"I'd be glad to call you a taxi," Scudder offered.

"Thanks, Chip. That would be great."

When Scudder was out of earshot, Kate said, "Do you think Scudder suspects it was us?"

"He's a sharp officer. I'll bet not much slips past him."

Scudder returned momentarily. "The taxi's on its way," he said. Then he added, "Why do you think the passengers knocked out their driver?"

"Maybe they were being held against their will," Luke offered. "Maybe they didn't want to be driven to Sarajevo."

"Then why wouldn't they have sought help at the guard shack after fleeing the vehicle?" Scudder asked.

"Maybe they didn't need help," Luke offered.

Scudder nodded. "I suppose we have to assume that they know what they're doing."

Kate was relieved to see the taxi pull through the front gate, up to the curb where they were standing.

"Best of luck to you both," Scudder said.

"Thank you, Chip," Luke said, extending his hand.

Kate sighed a sigh of relief when they were in the taxi. "Hotel Ambassador, please," Kate informed the driver.

Turning to Luke, she said, "He knows, Luke."

"Yes, he does."

"And yet he didn't try to detain us. Why?"

Luke said, "Chip and I worked closely together in Bosnia. I think he knows that whatever we're up to, we're doing it for the right reasons."

"I admire the trust you have for each other."

"It's an Army thing. We live by the same code, and we look out for each other. The Army's a little bit like a big family."

The taxi sped into Pristina, dodging traffic and stopping infrequently. They seemed to make it to Hotel Ambassador in record time.

"Thank you," Kate said to the driver in Albanian, handing him the cab fare.

"It's only a few blocks to the _Le Monde_ office from here. Let's head over there, and then we try to retrace our running route from _Le Monde_ to the KLA safe house to track down Dr. Randall."

"Sounds good," Kate said.

They neared the _Le Monde_ building and rounded a corner, noticing immediately the damage to the building that had housed Jacques's office. The windows that had been shattered by Otto's gunfire were now covered in flimsy plastic sheeting. Debris still littered the sidewalk below.

Kate felt a pang of terror, the same feeling she had moments before Luke had dragged her under Jacques's desk to safety. For a moment she wondered if they should not have returned to Kosovo. From what Dr. Randall said, it sounded as if Otto would stop at nothing to kill Kate, to destroy the last remaining evidence of his debacle at Racak. She felt nervous being back here at the scene of Jacques's murder.

Luke seemed to notice her anxiousness. He took her hand. "Let's circle around to the back of the building. From there we can piece together what we remember about the route to the safe house."

Kate nodded. They were back at the end of the alley, near the fork in the road where Dr. Randall had confronted them. They backtracked the zigzag path. Kate wasn't sure that they had gotten it quite right until they found themselves outside the whitewashed brick building.

"We did it," Luke said. He rang the buzzer, and they waited for about a minute. The outer door opened.

"What are you doing here?" Ibrahim hissed in Albanian.

"We came to speak to Dr. Randall," Luke said.

"Why did you incapacitate our driver?"

"Because we didn't have time to waste being dropped off in Sarajevo," Luke said. "Now where is Dr. Randall?"

"I don't know," Ibrahim said. "I haven't seen her since yesterday morning, shortly after the two of you left."

"Is that unusual?" Kate asked.

"Everything is unusual with Dr. Randall," Ibrahim said. "Why don't you tell me where you are staying, and I'll let her know that you came to see her when she returns."

Kate and Luke looked at each other. Luke said, "She knows we're back in country. She'll be able to find us if she really wants to." Kate nodded.

To Ibrahim, Luke said, "We're staying at the Hotel Stimlje. She can contact us there."

"Please don't come back here again," Ibrahim warned. He shut the door before they had a chance to respond.

# Chapter 63

"My car is parked about a block away from my apartment. Let's go pick it up, and then we can head down to Stimlje."

"Are we really going back to stay at the Hotel Stimlje?" she asked.

"It's too dangerous to stay at my apartment, in case Otto is watching. Hotel Stimlje was the first place that crossed my mind, when Ibrahim asked where we'd be," Luke admitted.

"It seems like a reasonable place to home base while we try to track down Marchak," she said.

While it was another brutally cold day in Kosovo, Kate noticed that this was the first sunny day since she had been here. She watched the scenery as Luke drove them out of Pristina. They drove past the fork in the road where Kate and Miko had met the fake police checkpoint last Friday. She shuddered, thinking about her abduction.

Her thoughts trailed to Tanem. "If we don't hear from Dr. Randall, we can always go back to Pristina to track down Tanem. He should be able to lead us to her."

"That's a good plan, Luke said. Let's see if we can make any headway finding Marchak, and if that is appearing to be a lost cause, we can head back to Pristina tomorrow to confront Tanem."

They parked in front of the Stimlje police station. They entered the old building, its brick facade crumbling. Inside Kate noticed immediately that despite the wear of the exterior, the interior was pristine and well lit.

Two police officers were sitting at a table in the middle of the room, playing cards and smoking cigarettes. The officers looked almost identical to the young men who were playing cards at the bar down the street where Kate had first met Jacques Montblanc a week ago, except these men were wearing uniforms, they spoke Serbo-Croatian instead of Albanian, and they brandished nine-millimeter pistols in their holsters instead of AK-47s.

One of the men looked up at the visitors. He sighed, appearing annoyed by the disruption. He put out his cigarette and approached the couple. "May I help you?" the young man asked in English, without smiling.

"We're looking for Captain Marchak," Luke said in Serbo-Croatian.

The police officer switched to Serbo-Croatian. "He's not here," he said.

The second police officer appeared interested in the conversation. He put out his cigarette and joined the first. "What is your business with Captain Marchak?" the second officer asked.

"He arranged to meet me at Hotel Stimlje on Friday, but he never showed," Kate said.

"Why was he meeting you?" the second officer said.

"He was investigating the disappearance of my friend, a German journalist." Luke said.

"Why did it take you so many days to seek out Captain Marchak?" the second officer asked.

"My colleague and I were unexpectedly detained. We came to Stimlje as quickly as we could," Luke said.

The officers looked at each other, as if to weigh what to reveal to Kate and Luke.

The first officer said, "We haven't seen him since Friday, and he never misses work. We've been asking residents if anybody has seen him, but nobody has."

"If you see Captain Marchak, please let him know that we're staying at the Hotel Stimlje."

The officers nodded, and Kate and Luke departed the police station.

They stopped a moment outside to get their bearings. Luke said, "Captain Marchak's been missing since Friday. My guess is that on Friday he followed through with his plans to meet up with you, but then he noticed something amiss, and he took off. He was able to leave you the audiocassette tape at your hotel, which leads me to believe that he's still alive but laying low."

Kate said, "The only explanation that makes sense is the one you proposed before: that Watson and Harris were listening to my conversation with Marchak last Thursday, and then on Friday Watson sent Otto to intercept me while concurrently sending Harris to meet Marchak."

A loud vehicle sped by, interrupting their conversation. "Look," Kate said, "It's a Mission Humvee. Check out the diplomatic license plate."

They watched the Humvee continue down the main artery of Stimlje. The police station was on a hill, so they were able to watch the vehicle for quite a while. When it disappeared down a hill, it reappeared again climbing the road to Racak.

"What's the Mission doing in Racak now?" Kate asked.

"Let's find out," Luke offered.

# Chapter 64

Kate and Luke jumped into the Zastava, speeding west through Stimlje. They lost sight of the Humvee as it entered Racak town center. Luke said, "That secondary road over there might have been the original road to Racak before the paved one was built. Let's take that path. We can park below the town and transgress the hill to enter Racak by foot."

She nodded. The Zastava lumbered up the narrow gravel road. They pulled off a natural turnout and parked. Kate reasoned it might only take about five minutes to reach Racak from there. It would be a steep climb up the hill, but this was a better way to see what the Mission observers were doing without being noticed.

They both were breathing heavily as they neared the top of the hill. At this height the terrain was rockier, less green. Kate followed carefully in Luke's footsteps. He offered a hand and pulled her up at a few points where the climb was difficult.

They were almost to the top when they heard somebody talking. They froze. Kate tried to stifle her heavy breathing, to slow the pounding of her palpitating heart. They waited for a few minutes to catch their breath and to listen. They heard a man's voice again. From where they were hiding on the side of the hill, they could not hear what the man was saying.

Luke looked at Kate. She knew what he wanted without him having to say anything. Instead of succumbing to her own instincts to run away, she coolly accepted that they would move upward, closer. Their steps became precise. They took every precaution to remain unnoticed. As they neared, the voice became clearer.

Kate's eyes grew wide. She mouthed to Luke, "Harris?" He nodded in agreement.

They lay their bodies flat against the steep rock, remaining still, trying to listen to what was happening. Luke whispered, "We can't hear what he's saying. We need to go higher."

Kate said, "Hoist me up. I'll lay flat for a moment to ensure our cover is adequate. If the coast is clear, then I'll pull you up." He nodded. He lifted her up effortlessly. She grabbed the grassy side of the cliff and threw her legs up and over. She lie there still for a moment. Then she moved her head to try to see what was going on.

She saw somebody sitting by the grave site. She didn't think the person had seen her, as there was a large bush between the cliff and Harris. Kate peered closer around the bush. She couldn't get a good view of what was happening.

She turned back towards Luke, nodding, giving him the sign to ascend. He kicked his legs against the cliff and propelled himself over the ledge. They lay flat for a few minutes watching and listening.

"We need to get a little closer to understand what's happening," Luke urged. "Let's crawl over to that space behind those big boulders."

Kate looked over in the direction Luke had referenced. It looked like the brush might protect them from being seen, and then once they got to the boulders, they'd be both well-hidden and also close enough to hear what was going on. They could also get a better look at the sitting person from that vantage point.

They crawled slowly toward the site, side by side. Kate was conscious of every noise her body made as she slithered to the boulders. Just a few more feet, she told herself, and then we'll be hidden.

They made it to the boulders. They sat up slowly, carefully. They heard Harris's voice more clearly now as he spoke to his audience. He said to the person seated near the grave site, "I can't wait to take off your blindfold, so that you can see where I've brought you."

Kate craned her neck to get a better look at the blindfolded person. Kate gasped. She looked at Luke.

"What are we going to do?" she whispered.

Luke said, "If he planned to kill her, he would have done it by now, and he wouldn't have wasted time carting her all the way up here. Let's listen to what he has to say. We don't have any weapons to match his gun, so short of getting ourselves shot, all we can do is wait and listen. Maybe we'll find out what he's up to."

Kate sank back. She wondered if Harris was a good shot. Never before had Kate wanted more urgently to take action, to do something, to stop a violent act before it happened. But Luke was right, that there was nothing they could do without putting themselves in harm's way.

Or should they take a risk? Perhaps they could storm Harris, and maybe they'd only be injured. Maybe they could wrestle the gun from Harris and subdue him.

They had to do something. Kate couldn't live with herself as an observer to a murder, right before her eyes, if that was indeed Harris's intent. Especially if the woman about to be murdered was her mother.

# Chapter 65

"You won't get away with this, Otto," Dr. Randall said.

_Otto?_ Luke and Kate looked at each other. Kate knew he was thinking the exact same thing that she was thinking: the man they knew as John Harris was none other than Jakob Otto!

She had known Harris was a fraud ever since the first day she met him, when he told her the lie about knowing her friend Bobbie. She berated herself for dismissing Harris as a repulsive goon. How could she have been so foolish to have underestimated him? She thought back to the times when the two of them were alone together, when he could have killed her. She shuddered.

"You're a maniac," Dr. Randall said coolly, evenly. He slapped her hard across the face, almost rocking her off the log.

"If you had any sense for self-preservation, Eleanor, you would just shut up."

Dr. Randall's eyes narrowed. "If you hadn't fouled up the grave site in the first place, Otto, we'd never be here now, would we? That's what happens when you send an amateur to do a professional's job." Dr. Randall seemed to be goading Otto. What was her plan, Kate wondered.

"You're calling me an amateur? Give it up, Eleanor. You should have retired years ago, but you keep going," he said. "Why are you so obsessed with Milosevic's demise?"

"Cut out the drama, Otto. If you're going to shoot me, just do it now." Dr. Randall ordered.

Kate heard the gun fire. It was so fast, and not particularly loud, that for a moment Kate believed that it had not happened. It didn't work this way in the movies, Kate thought. She saw a small pool of blood growing near Dr. Randall's armpit. Dr. Randall clutched her arm and groaned. She didn't appear to be mortally wounded by Otto's bullet. Could she be saved, Kate wondered?

Kate felt the blood pulsing through her veins. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Luke looking at her, but she didn't look back at him. She knew what she was about to do, and she didn't want a rational person trying to stop her.

A sound erupted from her lungs like a battle cry. She leaped over the boulders, sprinted towards Otto, and lunged at him. She tried to attack his eyes and his throat with her hands, her fingernails.

She had overestimated her strength; her rage was no match for his physical advantage. He pinned her down, the gun pointed at her head, a maniacal grin on his face.

"So nice to see you again, Ms. Bennett," he whispered. He spit on her face. "You've made things so easy for me, coming to me. You were next on my hit list."

As he held her down, he turned toward the boulders. He spoke loudly. "Captain Davis, I'm surprised you didn't run out after your girlfriend. The sign of a true coward. But that was a smart move, because I would have shot you in your tracks. This woman is no match for me, but you could have given me a good fight. You can come out now, with your hands up."

Luke didn't appear. Otto dragged Kate to the boulders so that he could take a look, but Luke wasn't there.

"I will kill her," Otto screamed into the forest. He dragged Kate back to where Dr. Randall was lying, clutching her arm.

"Sit on the log," he ordered Kate.

Kate slumped down. Otto tied her hands and ankles just as he had done Dr. Randall's. He sat Dr. Randall back up on the log, next to Kate.

Dr. Randall winced in pain. She said, "Let her go, Otto. Watson will have none of this."

Otto said, "What Watson doesn't know won't hurt him. You know, Eleanor, if I were you, I'd stop talking and reserve my energy to trying to stay alive. You know as well as I do that at the rate you're bleeding out, I don't even have to waste another bullet on you. You'll be dead in twenty minutes from the blood loss."

"You won't get away with this, Otto."

"Of course I will. What's a few more bodies at the dump site?"

"That's where you made your first mistake, you fool. If you hadn't been so lazy to dump Gunter Gruber's headless body with the others, Luke and Kate would have never suspected something was amiss."

Kate gasped. It was official: Gunter was dead. Why didn't she consider that possibility earlier, that Gunter was the headless body in the gulley? She remembered the stench at that edge of the ravine, which should have tipped her off that unlike the other victims, this one had been killed recently. She berated herself for the oversight. She should have followed through with her instincts about something being amiss with the headless body.

Dr. Randall continued, "Other people are always cleaning up your messes, Otto, because all you are is a thug, a brute. After the war starts, you know Watson is going to dismiss you. He has his own political aspirations, and he doesn't need you, with all of that blood on your hands, in his future. I may die today, Otto, but I guarantee that you've botched things up so badly that you won't make it another week yourself, before one of our own takes you out, too. Your career as an assassin is over."

Kate thought she saw a glimmer of recognition in Otto's eyes, that Dr. Randall might be right about his future. He curled his mouth up into a smile, as if he had just had an idea of what to do next.

"You're right, Eleanor. I screwed up by not disposing of the German's body properly. But what you're wrong about is that I don't learn from my mistakes. I do.

"I'll give you a moment, Eleanor, to consider whether saving Ms. Bennett a few days ago at the _Le Monde_ office was worth losing your life. I saw you in the alley. That's why I brought you here today: because you're part of the mess that I have to fix. Think about that while I go get us some firewood."

"You look puzzled, Kate," Otto said. "You'll have to burn, you know. Eleanor was right: I can't just dump your bodies here. I knew I'd have to perform a cremation, but maybe you don't have to be dead before you burn. What a painful way to die. I'd like to see that," he said, chuckling as he turned away.

Dr. Randall looked at Kate. She whispered, "We're going to get out of this. Don't listen to a word Otto says. He's just trying to frighten you. It's a classic CIA tactic, to get you to believe that the situation is hopeless, to dissuade your captive from trying to think of a way to get out alive. Luke has gone to go get help. He'll be back momentarily, and then Luke will subdue Otto before Otto can hurt you. Luke will save you."

Kate noticed Dr. Randall's careful choice of words, and the growing spot of blood on her jacket. "What about you?" Kate asked.

Dr. Randall smiled. "You're tough and you're smart, and there's no point to lie to you now. Otto's right about me only having about twenty minutes to live before I bleed to death. Luke will come back for you, but there's no hospital around here for miles."

Dr. Randall changed the topic. "Time is running out, and I have questions."

Kate nodded. She would be brave.

# Chapter 66

"Why did you subdue my driver?" Dr. Randall asked. "What was so important that you had to stay in Kosovo?"

Kate said, "We went to Munich to convince Secretary Anderson not to follow through with the war effort."

"How did that go?" Dr. Randall asked, wincing in pain.

"It went as I should have expected. Secretary Anderson denied any culpability in the staging of Racak. The one surprise was Secretary Anderson's suggestion that you are my mother."

Dr. Randall looked pale. Was it because of what Kate just said, or was it a symptom of the gunshot wound?

Dr. Randall looked at Kate, and then out in the distance, as if she were recalling a painful memory. She whispered, "I was in the kitchen cutting up a watermelon when I heard a noise upstairs. I went upstairs to check on you, thinking you were stirring from your nap. I was halfway up the steps when I heard the noise more clearly, coming from the master bedroom.

"I crept quietly back downstairs to grab the knife I had been using. I tiptoed to the back bedroom and spied a man climbing in through the window. All I could think was that I had to stop this man before he got to you. I lunged at him with the knife, slashing his throat in one strong sweep, instantaneously killing him.

"I called Tom Marshall, my supervisor in the Chicago field office. When he and a few other agents arrived, the team wrapped the assassin in a floor rug and thoroughly cleaned the crime scene. Marshall stayed with you and me while the team dumped the body in Lake Michigan.

"Marshall said the only way to keep you and Alex safe would be for me to disappear, to fake my death. As long as I were alive, he said, the Soviets would look for me, and they wouldn't hesitate to use you or Alex as bait.

"I told Marshall I couldn't leave you. He said your chance of survival was better with Alex, and with me out of the picture. I said there had to be another way, but he said there was not.

"That night I told Alex I was headed out to Lincoln Park for a jog. Marshall doctored a crime scene in the park, planting some of my personal effects and a clump of my hair a little bit off the jogging path. He splattered about a pint of my blood around the scene, too. The 'Lincoln Park Jogging Murder' was front page news for days.

"Although a body was never found, our intelligence indicated the Soviets believed I was dead. Later Marshall told me that it was Milosevic who handed my name to the KGB. Marshall said Milosevic had somehow found out that I wasn't Russian, and he was angry about having been deceived by me.

"Without you I was lost. I went to see Marko Tomic at his chateau on the Dalmatian Coast. Marko had become a very popular writer, not only in Croatia, but internationally. Marko and I reconciled, and I lived with him in Croatia for many years. While he furthered his career as a writer, I traveled to Kosovo frequently to support Ibrahim Rugova's push for greater sovereignty of Kosovo from Belgrade. Marko opposed a dissolution of Yugoslavia, but he was supportive of my work in Kosovo, because Kosovar Albanian freedoms were being oppressed by the Serbs there like no other place in Yugoslavia.

"Then war broke out in Bosnia, which upset Marko deeply. He had always considered Sarajevo to be a most progressive European city, so ethnically diverse. He couldn't take the images he saw on TV of the city being destroyed. During the war many groups appealed to Marko to become their leader, because he inspired people with his passion and his honesty, but he had said publicly that he abhorred the war, and the best way he could continue to inspire was not in politics, but with his pen. One day Marko went to Belgrade to try to persuade Milosevic to end the violence. Milosevic refused Marko's appeal and warned Marko never to return to Belgrade.

"A few days later Marko and I walked down from our villa to the beach, something we did together frequently. On our walk back up the steep, narrow hill, all I remember hearing was a quiet whirring sound, and then suddenly Marko's limp body had crashed into mine, knocking me off the side of the path. I remember struggling to grab branches and roots to curb the vertical descent into the ocean until my head hit a rock, rendering me unconscious. When I awoke, I was in a bed in a CIA safe house. My colleagues said that as soon as word had gotten out that the esteemed poet Marko Tomic had been assassinated, they came looking for me. They said they found me sandwiched between two large boulders, my body dangling dangerously close to the Adriatic Sea"

"Why would anybody have wanted Tomic dead?" Kate asked.

"Milosevic was indubitably behind the assassination. Marko's appearance in Belgrade was a grave threat to Milosevic's political power. Milosevic's constituency might question Milosevic's ideals of the superiority of the Serb people that he frequently touted publicly; an old Croatian friend would never have been welcomed at the palace in Belgrade during the war.

"And Tomic was more powerful than a politician. He was Croatia's most beloved poet, an open advocate of peace. Milosevic must have considered Tomic's appeals for peace as a grave threat to the instability he was perpetrating in Bosnia. He likely felt he had no choice but to assassinate him.

"I hated Milosevic. How could he kill an innocent man like that, a man who had only ever been a friend? I began to mastermind Milosevic's fall. It would be too easy, too quick, to simply shoot him; instead, I would take Kosovo from him. Milosevic was maniacally obsessed with Kosovo, the province in which the Battle of Kosovo Polje took place back in the 1300s, a rallying point for Serbs that Milosevic had used over and over again in his propagandist speeches.

"Ibrahim Rugova was a pacifist, and no longer a suitable player in my plan. I started building up the KLA, readying them for an internal guerrilla war. I admitted to Hashim Tanem that I was CIA, but with Tanem I pretended to be obsessed with independence for Kosovo from an oppressive Belgrade. I played into his whims, knowing our relationship would be mutually beneficial. He'd have independence for his people, and I would have ruined Milosevic.

Dr. Randall winced in pain. "Joe Watson had a political future in mind, so he took over as the Mission director to oversee the plan to stage Racak, knowing he'd look like a hero when it was all said and done. I would act as the behind-the-scenes lieutenant to Watson.

"Alex's death delayed my ability to get back to Racak to set up the mass grave site as planned. Watson appointed Otto to do it in my absence. When Gunter discovered Otto and Watson at Racak the day before they were supposed to be there, Otto killed Gunter and sloppily tossed his body in the ravine with the other bodies. I ordered him to remove it before the media took their footage, so there would be no visual evidence on videotape of the murdered journalist."

Kate asked quietly, "So NATO takes Kosovo from Milosevic, but then what? You masterminded a war to force the demise of the last European dictator, the man responsible for Tomic's death, but then what?"

Dr. Randall said, "The NATO air campaign will benefit Kosovo in the long term, Kate. The KLA will act as a ground force for NATO, drawing out Serb forces so that NATO's air command could target them. The United States is hesitant to risk American soldiers' lives, so there's not going to be a plan for a NATO ground invasion after the air campaign ends. The air campaign will be over in only a few days anyway. Milosevic will capitulate, and NATO will occupy Kosovo until order is established. Then Kosovo Albanians will finally have the chance to govern themselves freely."

Kate said, "But that's only if Milosevic capitulates. If he fights, he could be perceived as a hero, the little guy who stood up to the big international oppressor. The U.S. wants a quick and dirty end to this, not an extended battle like in Bosnia, and Milosevic knows this. What's to stop him from dragging this out, especially if he has the tacit approval of Moscow and Beijing?"

Dr. Randall replied, "All of this conjecture is moot now, as the bombing campaign commences tonight. When Luke returns, you must leave Kosovo immediately with him. Please promise me this."

Kate looked over at Otto. He had collected a significant amount of wood and was now igniting it. She knew he was capable of setting them both of them on fire, of burning them alive, without a second thought. She wondered how a person could get to the point of having such little respect for life, to kill without remorse.

She hoped Luke would return soon.

# Chapter 67

If this was really the end, then there were just a few more things Kate wanted to say. "If the public knew we were dropping bombs on Kosovo just to bring an end to the last European communist, and that this was all part of an insidious plan of revenge, this war would never be happening.

"Can't you see that an independent Kosovo will bring about a less stable Europe? KLA leaders don't know how to rule; all they know is how to fight. If Kosovo is run by the KLA, we can expect an increase in drug, prostitution, and arms trafficking within the province— and across its borders. At least under Milosevic there was some control, some semblance of order."

Dr. Randall said nothing. Kate watched Dr. Randall's gaze, which had moved from Kate's face to Otto, building the fire. The fire was more intense now. Kate could feel the heat from where they were sitting, which was at least twenty feet away.

Otto walked over to the women. "This is it, ladies. Who wants to go first? Perhaps you, Kate, as a punishment for those torturous hours we had to spend together on patrol, and then in retribution for you evading me not only at the abandoned house where I had them take you, but also at the newspaper office. You escaped death twice, but you won't manage it a third time. And if I burn you first, then Eleanor will have the chance to enjoy the show."

Otto stood behind Kate, untying the knot. This was her one and only chance to escape, and she knew she had to do it as soon as Otto freed her hands. She felt the ropes loosen around her wrists. It was now or never.

She threw her body back against his, hoping she had enough momentum to cause them both to sputter backward, to throw him off balance. It didn't work.

He laughed. "When will you realize that I'm twice your weight and three times as strong, you little fool?"

He pushed her toward the fire. Dr. Randall let out a weak scream. "No, Kate. No!"

The smoke filled her lungs as the flames lapped at her outstretched hands. She would fight this, she told herself. The heat of the fire seared her palms. Her ankles still bound, she felt herself losing her balance, toppling into the fire.

She'd be badly burned, she thought, but she would try to writhe out of the fire, away from Otto, and run into the forest. She remembered stories of people who had been burned badly who survived, their adrenaline pushing them to continue, to live on. She would not give up.

A pair of arms grabbed her, throwing her to the ground. Someone was beating the flames out of her clothes. She lie there, grateful to no longer be burning. She turned her head to see that it was Luke, kneeling next to her, smoothing the remaining embers from her jacket.

She heard gunshots, but from down on the ground, still close to the tall, crackling fire, she could not discern what was happening. Luke helped her sit up. She saw Dr. Randall's body on the ground, and a man hovering over her.

Kate squinted to try to see the man better. "Is that Captain Marchak?" she asked.

# Chapter 68

Luke nodded.

Her throat was parched from the smoke. "Is she going to make it?"

"I don't know," Luke said. "I rushed to get you out of the fire first."

"How did you find Marchak?" she asked.

"Otto went to Stimlje last Friday afternoon to meet Marchak in your absence. Marchak saw Otto before Otto saw him, and his instincts told him something was wrong. Marchak spent the next few days incognito, watching for Otto's return to Stimlje. This morning Marchak spotted the Verification Mission Humvee headed to Racak, which piqued his interest. When he discovered my car on the side of the old gravel road, he decided to check things out."

Luke continued, "When you went commando on Otto, I tried to go after you, but Marchak grabbed me from behind and flung me back down the cliff wall. He was carrying a gun, but he convinced me to scale back down the hill to his vehicle to get a second gun so that we would have a better chance of taking out Otto. We retrieved the second weapon and then climbed back up a few yards away, where we thought Otto would not be looking. That's when I saw him push you into the fire."

"How are your hands?" he asked, holding them gently in his own.

She looked at the palms of her hands. They stung from the burn, but considering she had almost perished in the flames, her wounds seemed unimportant. "You got me out just in time."

Kate looked around. "What happened to Otto?" she asked.

Luke stood, and he helped Kate up. He said, "I don't know."

Marchak approached the pair. "She had no pulse by the time I got to her," he said, shaking his head.

"What about Otto?" Kate asked.

"I hit him, but he kept running." Marchak turned on his radio, "Captain Jan Marchak here, up in Racak near the ravine where the massacre was reported. Be on the lookout for an armed and dangerous criminal with a bullet wound." Marchak proceeded to broadcast the description of Otto.

Marchak said to Luke and Kate, "I'll go look for Otto myself. If I wounded him, then he may not have gone too far." Kate shivered, thinking about how the assassin was still out there somewhere. Based on what Dr. Randall had intimated about Otto's psychological profile, Kate considered the prospect of Otto pursuing her until he finally succeeded in killing her. Would she be on the run forever? She tried to push this idea out of her head.

Kate noticed two police cars transgressing Racak on the way up to the grave site. She looked over at Dr. Randall's still body. The day's events seemed surreal. Would there ever be a return to normal after what she had experienced in Kosovo? She sat down on a nearby rock, suddenly tired.

Luke joined her. Still looking at Dr. Randall's body, Kate said, "Otto shot her in the shoulder, and she bled to death."

"I'm sorry I didn't get back here sooner."

"Even if you had made it back in time, she said there wasn't a hospital in Stimlje. She acknowledged that her chances of making it were slim."

Kate added absently, "Secretary Anderson was telling the truth. Dr. Randall was my mother."

"Are you certain?" Luke asked.

Kate nodded. "She faked her death in Chicago to protect me and my dad from the KGB after they discovered she was an American spy."

"Are you all right?"

She looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"You've been through a lot today."

She shrugged her shoulders. "I haven't had a chance to work it all out in my head yet."

Marchak approached the couple. "Otto is wounded. I'll give the regional clinics and hospitals his physical description in the event he appears for treatment. We will find him."

Kate offered a polite smile. She appreciated Marchak's determination, but she knew a cold blooded murderer like Otto would escape apprehension by the local police. She thought it highly unlikely that Otto would ever be caught and then brought to justice for the crimes he had committed.

Marchak walked with the couple back down the hill to the automobiles. On the small path the three of them stood. Marchak looked uncomfortable, as if there was one more thing he wanted to say before they parted ways. "Ms. Bennett, this may not be the right time, but did you get the evidence I left for you and Captain Davis?"

"We did," she said, "but Otto confiscated it."

"That's too bad," Marchak said. "I haven't been able to find out any more information to explain Gunter Gruber's disappearance."

She had forgotten to tell Luke about Gunter. "Otto killed Gunter. Otto was ordered to remove Gunter's headless body from the ravine before the media arrived to eliminate photographic evidence of Gruber's death."

"So the headless body was Gunter's," Luke muttered.

Marchak frowned. "They sure know how to cover their tracks," he said. "I'm sorry, Captain Davis. I know he was your friend."

Unsmiling, Marchak said, "I will find Otto, if it's the last thing I do." He walked a few steps toward his car, and then he turned around. "When the bombs start falling," he said, "I will remember that there were a few Americans out there who tried to stop all of this from happening."

# Chapter 69

"We shouldn't be here," he said, parking the Zastava outside of his apartment building in Pristina as the sun was setting.

"This may be the first place Otto would look for us," she admitted, "but he's wounded, and we'll be here only a few minutes to pack up your things." She didn't feel frightened to see Otto again. _I must be numb_ , she thought.

While Luke packed his bags, Kate sat on his couch. She was weary, but she could not rest. She kept thinking about everything Dr. Randall had told her before she had died.

Luke popped his head into the living room. "I should pack up Gunter's stuff, too, for his family." She nodded, joining Luke in Gunter's room.

"Are you all right?" she asked him.

"Ever since Gunter went missing, I suspected he had been killed. It's reassuring to at least know what happened, to have a sense of closure about his disappearance. His death was such a waste, though. He was an excellent journalist, and a good friend, just somebody in the wrong place at the wrong time."

She knew she could conjure no words to make Gunter's absence less sobering, and that empathy was all she had to offer. "It's not the ending he deserved," she said. They packed Gunter's clothing and books into two suitcases they found in Gunter's closet.

On the drive to Pristina Airfield Kate recounted to Luke everything Dr. Randall had told her back at Racak. She found the courage to admit to him that her own mother had played a key role in inciting the Kosovo conflict for the sole purpose of avenging Milosevic for having killed Marko Tomic. "Her final mission was to unseat the last European dictator," Kate said, concluding her story.

"She may have been your mother, Kate, but her actions aren't your responsibility," he said.

"I don't feel responsible as much as I feel disappointed. And also amazed that the course of events in Yugoslavia over the past three decades were manipulated by an American puppet master. Marchak told us that he would always remember us as Americans who tried to stop the war. The operable word in his statement was 'tried.' The bombs are coming, Luke, and our fight is over."

Luke gripped the Zastava's wheel tightly. "We risked our careers to submit controversial intelligence reports through the appropriate channels. We met with the Secretary of State to try to convince her to stop the war. You were kidnapped, we were ambushed by sniper fire, and you were almost burned alive. We risked our lives trying to do the right thing, Kate. We did our best, and sometimes that's not enough, but that's all we could do."

"I know," she admitted. "Let's get out of here before NATO arrives."

The sun was setting, the sky a hazy red-orange to the west. A C-130 sat on the tarmac at Pristina Airfield. They parked the Zastava near the hangar.

"There's Lieutenant Scudder," Kate said, pointing at an officer near the C-130. They walked to great him.

"Captain Davis, I was wondering if I'd see you again," Scudder said.

Luke said quietly, "Yesterday morning Kate and I were being escorted against our will to Sarajevo. We ditched the driver to catch your C-130 so that we could try to persuade the Secretary of State to call off the NATO air campaign. I should have come clean with you this morning about yesterday's assault."

Scudder looked at them thoughtfully. Kate noticed he didn't look angry; rather, he appeared amused. "The Mission office reported Ms. Bennett as a missing person two days ago, so I knew something was amiss. And yes, it seemed a bit suspicious that at around the same time the two of you show up at the airfield yesterday, a driver is mugged by a man and a woman. But I figured whatever you were doing must have been important."

"Thank you, Chip," Luke said.

Scudder said, "I take it that your mission to change the Secretary's mind about the war failed, considering the evacuation order we all received earlier today?" Kate and Luke nodded.

Scudder continued, "The Air Force sorties from Aviano Air Base in Italy will be flying over Kosovo in about two hours. The last C-130 flight is leaving here in seven minutes. You made it just in time, if you're looking for a way out."

"Indeed we are," Luke said. He pulled his keys out of his pocket. "The Zastava. It's yours."

"Thanks, man," he said, grinning widely.

"Good luck here in Kosovo," Luke said.

The war was beginning, and nobody's safety was guaranteed. "Take care, Lieutenant Scudder," Kate said.

Luke and Kate hustled across the airfield with their luggage. They climbed the steps into the body of the C-130 moments before the engines roared and the plane door sealed shut. As the aircraft gained altitude, Kate leaned her head against the seat. She looked around at the other passengers who appeared, by their clothing and hairstyles, to be nonprofit workers evacuated from Kosovo at the very last minute.

It was too loud on the plane to converse, and it was dark, a chance for Kate to sit back and consider everything that had transpired. She thought incredulously that it was only yesterday morning when they had made this same flight to Stuttgart.

Would she ever feel safe again, knowing that Otto was out there? Then she thought of Dr. Randall, and her fear was replaced by anger. How irresponsible it was of Dr. Randall to precipitate a war to seek revenge on Milosevic. How many people would die as a result of her decision? Kate thought about how Marko Tomic would have certainly condemned Dr. Randall's actions. How was it possible that this war happening tonight was born out of one woman's misguided rage?

Kate hoped her own predictions about the future of Kosovo were wrong. She wished the air campaign would only last a few days, followed by the capitulation of Milosevic and the beginning of peace talks. She knew deep down this would not happen, though. Despite what Luke said, Kate did feel responsible for her mother's grave mistakes. How could she possibly return to Washington and attempt to lead a normal life, pretending the Kosovo conflict was nothing more than an escalation of tension between Serb police and the Kosovar Albanian insurgency?

She looked at Luke, who had taken the only other available seat across from her, about twelve feet away. He held his hands in his lap, his eyes closed. She thought she should do the same, to take this time on the plane to rest. She enjoyed looking at him, though, and sleep could come later. Even in his relaxed state, his posture conveyed a man confident and strong. She envied him, wishing that she could erase this feeling of guilt about the war.

He caught her glance, and he smiled. She looked down, embarrassed that he had caught her looking at him. She forced her eyes shut, pretending to rest. After a good night's sleep, she reasoned, she'd be better equipped to manage things. She would be ready to consider what was next.

# Chapter 70

When she woke in the morning, it took a few moments for her to recall where she was. She had slept fitfully in Luke's apartment in Stuttgart, plagued by vivid nightmares of Otto and the war. Her hands ached from the burns. She left the bedroom and discovered Luke on the couch, watching CNN.

On the television was Nick Nixon, a freshman reporter, standing on a Kosovo hilltop. "The liberation of Kosovo has begun," Nixon announced.

Kate's stomach turned. While she was eager to know what was happening in Kosovo, thinking about the war immediately resurrected the pain of defeat. No matter how much it hurt, though, she knew she could not ignore the turn of events. It had started, and they could not stop it. She sat down next to Luke.

"Hi," he said somberly.

"Hi," she said quietly, transfixed on the television screen.

Bombs lit up the night sky behind the anxious Nick Nixon. Kate thought the scene almost looked beautiful, like fireworks, except that the devices falling through the air were meant for destruction and death, not entertainment. The cameras panned behind Nixon, below the hill, on a lower road. It was difficult to see exactly what was happening in the darkness, but it appeared as if a large number of people were walking on the road, traveling in a pedestrian convoy.

Nixon said, "As you can see behind me, people are beginning to flee Kosovo on foot, by automobile, and in mule-drawn carts. The Serb military literally appears to be pushing Kosovar Albanians out of the country. We've heard rumors from locals that Milosevic has unleashed his soldiers on the people. We are seeing this firsthand now, with this mass exodus of civilians out of Kosovo."

Could Milosevic be blamed for the refugee situation that was unfolding? Or were people fleeing Kosovo to avoid the NATO's bombs? Perhaps their reasons were a combination of both, Kate thought.

Nixon's segment ended. Kate and Luke sat still, waiting to see what was next. A CNN reporter announced that the Secretary of State and the NATO commander, together in Belgium at NATO headquarters, would address the press momentarily.

With a most serious look on her face, Secretary Anderson began. "I have always believed that Americans have the responsibility to defend those who can't defend themselves.

"Until last night, we had explored every possible avenue to secure a diplomatic settlement that would have respected both Serb and Albanian rights. President Milosevic refused to cooperate. Instead of choosing peace, he unleashed his security forces against the civilian population. The footage of the exodus of people from Kosovo illustrates the impact of Milosevic's fury.

"We could not stand by any longer to watch more innocent people be murdered. NATO's presence in Kosovo gives us a chance to stop ethnic cleansing before it happens. On this first day of the NATO air campaign, we must not forget what brought us to this day. We must always remember what happened in the village of Racak, where innocent men, women and children were snatched from their homes, forced to kneel in the dirt, and killed mercilessly. These people were massacred not because of anything they did, but simply because of their ethnicity. This injustice is what we Americans will not tolerate. Thank you."

The camera panned to General Willis, standing next to Secretary Anderson at the podium, his face emotionless. He began to read from his script, his eyes downturned. "While some say our troops should only fight wars when other means to achieve peace have been exhausted, I believe we should be using our military not as a last resort, but as a way to strengthen diplomacy in the Balkans. As fighting intensifies in Kosovo, we have an opportunity to act now, to avoid dragging our feet like we did in Bosnia. The absence of democracy in Belgrade is why there is a problem in Kosovo today. We should remember this as we consider how best to manage the deteriorating security situation in Kosovo, which is indubitably being orchestrated by Belgrade."

Kate shook her head. "It's unbelievable, isn't it? That it's come to this?"

"Yes, it is," he said. He looked down at her hands, which were still red from Otto's fire. "Do they hurt?" he asked.

"A little," she admitted. "But I'll be okay."

Luke turned off the TV. "Sitting here watching the war unfold before our eyes is only going to make us crazy. Let's go get breakfast."

She nodded. They walked down the cobblestone sidewalk through the old town of Stuttgart, about four blocks to Le Boulangerie, Luke's favorite cafe. They sat at a small table near the window with their cappuccinos and _berliners_ , watching pedestrians walk by.

Luke cupped the warm drink in his hands. "What do you want to do today?" he asked.

She frowned. "I can't stay, Luke. Being here with you feels too much like being on vacation."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing," she said. "It feels good, and it's easy. But I have to figure out what's next."

"Why don't you take a few days to sort it out here?"

"I can't."

"Is it Bill?" he asked quietly.

"No, of course not," she said. "But the next time I see you, I don't want to be an unemployed former civil servant."

"Is that what you think you are to me?"

"It' what I am now. But not always."

He took her hands. "Look, Kate, I'm worried about Otto. He's still out there, and he could come after you again. If we stick together, it'll be easier to watch our backs."

She shook her head. "I won't live in fear the rest of my life, Luke. Watson wants Otto worse than Otto wants me, and Watson has ample resources to subdue his rogue assassin," she said.

"That sounds logical, Kate, but Otto is a maniac. He'll find a way to get to you." He looked up at her, adding softly, "I wish you would stay."

They finished breakfast, and she stood. He watched her walk up to the counter of the cafe to borrow a pen. She scribbled a note on a small square napkin before returning to the table to put on her coat.

She handed him the napkin as they began the walk back up the cobblestone road to Luke's apartment.

"What's this?" he asked.

"It's my address in Chicago. After I tie up loose ends in Washington, I'm going home. Chicago is where I belong, the only place that has even felt right. I can figure out my long term plan there."

"What about you?" she asked him. "What does your future hold?"

"I have a few more months left of service commitment to the Army. I suppose I have a little soul searching coming my way, too, of whether to remain an Army officer or resign my commission. It seems impossible to stay, after what we've witnessed."

She nodded. "The Bennett bungalow has plenty of space for two," she offered, "If you choose to resign, you're more than welcome to stay at my place while you figure out what's next."

"Thanks," he said. "But the next time I see you, I don't want to be an unemployed former Army officer."

She chuckled, "I suppose not. But given your employment track record, by the time we meet again, you will probably be knee deep into your next endeavor."

"What do you think my next endeavor will be?" he asked.

She pondered his future. "I guess I don't see you returning to the States. You seemed destined for a life of adventure past what a domestic experience can offer."

"Perhaps you're right," he said. "But maybe once you get back to Chicago, you'll realize that you and I are not that different, and that you're cut out for something more, too."

"Do you think so?" she asked.

"Absolutely," he said. "I don't want you to go, but I know there's nothing I can say to stop you from leaving. I just hope our paths cross again someday."

She smiled. "Me, too. More than anything."

# Chapter 71

She woke to the sound of her trusty alarm clock, feeling jet lagged and once again disoriented. Her flight had landed in Washington yesterday afternoon, and she spent the remainder of the day collecting her mail, buying food, and performing the menial tasks of a person who had been away on an extended trip. She had wanted to call Bill, to let him know that she was back, but she did not pick up the phone. The thought of explaining all that she had been through the two weeks prior exhausted her.

She lay in bed, her head foggy. She thought about her last moment with Luke, when he had dropped her off at the airport in Stuttgart the day before. She had looked back through the glass doors of the airport and spied him in his car. He had offered her a friendly wave, and then he had driven away. Since that moment she had tried repeatedly to imprint into her memory her last glimpse of Captain Luke Davis.

It was time to move on, and it was time to get up. She could procrastinate her return to the State Department to collect her things no longer.

She walked into the lobby of her old building, thinking about how much had changed since she had been there last, that day she had met Bill and they had gone for the walk through the park across the street, the day before she left for Kosovo.

Her security badge still worked. She wasn't sure if that would be the case. When she arranged plans back to Washington from Stuttgart with Madge, the woman at the State Department responsible for arranging official travel, Madge had not hesitated to book Kate a flight from Stuttgart to Washington, as Madge had no knowledge of Kate's verbal resignation. As far as anybody knew, it was business as usual, with Kate Bennett having returned from her assignment with the Kosovo Verification Mission along with the other Mission employees as soon as the NATO bombing campaign commenced.

For a brief moment in the elevator up to her floor, Kate felt a pang of regret over her resignation. She was leaving a career that she genuinely enjoyed, a job which she performed most proficiently. It was all over, and it was all her own doing. This would be a difficult day.

She spotted her supervisor, Mr. Warren, in his office. When he looked at her, her stomach dropped. She had always liked and respected Mr. Warren greatly and was not looking forward to this conversation with him.

"Welcome back, Kate. We sure missed you," he said warmly, standing to greet her. "I'm glad you made it out of there in time. Everybody is eager to hear all about your adventures."

He seemed to sense that something was wrong. "Are you all right?" he asked.

Kate sat in one of the chairs near Mr. Warren's desk. Mr. Warren said, "I remember returning from my first deployment. I had volunteered for what was supposed to be a two-week stint in Honduras. I remember being so excited to have the chance to travel out of the country for the first time.

"There were a bunch of crazy things going on in Honduras then, nothing of which I knew about until I was there. When the insurgents announced that they were going to start kidnapping Americans for ransom to fund their operations, it took the State Department about three weeks to get me and a bunch of other personnel out of there. I was terrified each night that the rebels would find us and take us hostage.

"When we finally got home, I remember returning to work, thinking how strange it was to be back. How could anything feel normal again, after what I had been through? It gets easier with time, Kate. It will start to feel normal again. I promise."

Kate swallowed. "That's not it, Mr. Warren. I mean, yes, I did experience some harrowing experiences during my tour. But that's not the problem. Last week I provided a verbal resignation to Secretary Anderson. I've quit, sir."

Mr. Warren looked puzzled. "A verbal resignation to the Secretary of State herself? I don't understand, Kate. What happened?"

"While I was in Kosovo a colleague of mine and I discovered that the CIA had fabricated the Racak massacre to gain public support for an air campaign over Kosovo, designed to force Milosevic to capitulate. There was no genocide, sir. Two reporters were murdered, and my colleague and I were almost killed in our attempts to stop the war from happening."

"I don't believe it," Mr. Warren said. "You mean that NSA report that had been floating around in paper form was true? Was that report written by you?"

"Yes, sir. My colleague and I published the report into the intelligence database, but Director Watson rescinded it. I was able to fax a copy of the report to my friend at NSA who republished in the database. It was there for about an hour before the CIA deleted it a second time."

"That report generated a lot of excitement," Mr. Warren said. "But unfortunately the peace talks with Milosevic in Munich came to a quick end, and with the air campaign in full force, nobody's thinking any longer about anything other than hitting targets and what to do about the brewing humanitarian catastrophe that the air campaign generated."

Mr. Warren tapped his fingers on his desk for a few seconds. "I can understand why you tendered your resignation to Secretary Anderson, Kate. You must be very disappointed with our foreign policy right now, with the measures we take to get things done."

Tears filled Kate's eyes. She had not permitted herself to feel sad until now. "I am, sir. I don't want to be a part of it any longer."

"I understand," Mr. Warren said. "But consider what you're giving up. You are the best analyst on our team, Kate, and you can make a real difference here. The intelligence reports you produce will help our leaders make better decisions in the future about what to do. You would be doing your country a great service if you stayed."

Kate shook her head. "That's the problem, Mr. Warren. It doesn't matter what we intelligence analysts do. The policy is decided, and then the facts are created to substantiate the policy. It's backwards."

Mr. Warren sighed. "Try to put yourself in Secretary Anderson's shoes, Kate. She couldn't stop the massacre of innocent Bosnians in Srebrenica in 2005. She genuinely believes Milosevic is a monster. She believes she's doing the right thing."

"I know," Kate said. "She told me herself that she believed the end justified the means. But the problem with her reasoning is that she doesn't know with confidence what that end would be. Her logic is that Milosevic is going to allow genocide in Kosovo, so the best thing to do would be to depose him before he can do it. But how do we know that this would happen? It happened before, and it might happen again, but how can we take preemptive action, just in case?"

"How could we not?" Mr. Warren countered. "If a dog has a history of biting people, would you allow your child in the backyard with the dog? Or it is safe to assume the dog could act violently again?"

Kate sighed. "I don't know anymore, Mr. Warren. I suppose the question we should be asking ourselves right now is whether this air campaign is pushing Milosevic to capitulate like we want him to do. And if it's not, then we should question whether the mass exodus of people out of Kosovo into Macedonia and Albania— this dire humanitarian situation that's unfolding— is better than whatever genocide Milosevic may have permitted."

"We'll never know what may have happened, Kate. All we can do is deal with what we've got now, and hope that Milosevic capitulates so that that everybody can go home again soon," he said.

"Home to a country that we decimated," she said.

"And home to a country we will help rebuild," he offered.

Kate smiled. "I don't know how you can do all of this without letting it bother you, sir."

"Getting the right information into the hands of our decision makers is all we can do. As time goes on, Kate, we'll have a better idea of whether what we're doing now in Kosovo is good or bad. Sometimes you have to take risky moves that you think are right. Sometimes they don't end up being right, but you sleep at night knowing that you did it for the right reasons. I have faith that this is the case for Secretary Anderson."

"Yes, sir," Kate said. She felt as if there was no more to say.

"What can I say to make you stay? Will you at least give it some time? Maybe a few days, to reconsider?"

"Thank you, Mr. Warren, but I can't do it. I'm sorry."

Mr. Warren smiled. "That's okay. You're following your moral compass, and you must do what you think is right."

He looked at a picture of his family on his desk. He turned the frame towards Kate so that she could see the photo. "I hope that when my daughter Emily is an adult, that she has the good sense that you do, Kate."

He stood up and extended his hand. "Good luck to you, Ms. Bennett, with whatever you choose to pursue next. Please call me if you ever need a professional recommendation."

"Thank you, Mr. Warren." She turned and exited his office before he could see the tears streaming down her face.

# Chapter 72

She cleaned out her desk as quickly and quietly as she could so that she didn't have to explain to anybody else why she was leaving. She turned in her badge at the security desk in the lobby and walked outside, her limited personal belongings from her desk tucked away in a small box. It was done.

She thought she would feel relieved, or vindicated, but she felt only exhausted. She took the Metro home to her Georgetown apartment to rest. When she woke hours later, she still felt groggy. She wondered how long it might take to feel normal again.

Catching a glimpse of the war on TV, she felt angry. Every reminder of the war made her feel frustrated and powerless. She had to do something and decided to call her friend Dottie, a _Washington Post_ reporter.

The next morning she met Dottie at a popular coffeehouse in Georgetown. "Welcome back," Dottie said, standing. The friends embraced, and then they grabbed a table near the window.

Kate recounted to the journalist her experience in Kosovo in its entirety, with the sole exception of disclosing her relationship to Dr. Randall. Discovering and then losing her mother, after having believed that she had been dead all of these years, was material inappropriate for public consumption, as was her personal connection to the woman who precipitated a war for the sole purpose of revenge.

Dottie listened carefully to Kate's story, asking questions for clarification when it was necessary. Dottie asked, "Do you have evidence that the headless body of Gunter Gruber was in the Racak gulley before it was removed by Otto?"

"No. Otto broke into my hotel room and stole the film in our camera."

"Did you retain a copy of Gunter's tape implicating Watson?"

"No. When Otto shot and killed _Le Monde_ reporter Jacques Montblanc, we fled, and Otto took advantage of the opportunity to swipe our tape at the scene of Jacques's murder."

Dottie took copious notes. Kate continued, "I know all of this sounds unbelievable, Dottie, but it's all absolutely true; I just can't prove it."

Dottie said, "Well, I can look into Watson when I get a break from this war coverage. The _Post_ wants us to cover the NATO air campaign closely, which doesn't leave me much time for other projects right now."

"I understand," Kate said. "NATO has a massive refugee situation on its hands in neighboring Macedonia and Albania. Whether the war was just or unjust is a matter for debate among scholars later on, after all of this is over."

"I'm sorry, Kate. It's just that everybody's talking about how the end of the air campaign is near, which is why covering the air campaign is priority now. By the way everybody's talking, we'll be moving on to the next story soon."

"I hope the end of the war will be as swift as everybody is predicting," Kate said.

Dottie offered warmly, "I'll do my best to make your story a priority, Kate."

"That's okay," said Kate. "I thought I would have felt cleansed in telling you all of this, Dottie, but the truth really is too little, too late."

"Where is Otto now?" Dottie asked.

"I don't know," Kate admitted.

"Are you worried?"

"Not really. He knows I have no proof of any of my claims."

"Tell me about Luke Davis," Dottie asked, clasping her coffee mug. Her eyes twinkled. "You like him."

"I did," Kate admitted, "But he's an Army Captain, and we resumed our separate lives when the adventure ended."

"Will you try to contact him again?" Dottie asked.

"I don't have a reason to do so."

"Why do you need a reason?"

Kate shook her head, "I don't know." Smiling, Kate added, "You know, Dottie, it's exhausting undergoing your interrogation."

"All right, all right," she said, holding her hands in the air, "So what will you do next, Kate?"

"I'm headed back to Chicago to figure everything out."

Dottie looked at her watch. "I have to get back to the office," she said. The friends stood, making their way to the front of the coffeehouse to pay their bill at the counter.

"Have you seen Bill yet?" Dottie asked.

Kate shook her head. "He doesn't know I'm back."

"I ran into him last Friday night at O'Dowd's. He's been worried about you."

"I'll call him," Kate promised.

"Take care of yourself, Kate," Dottie said. "You've been through so much. Let's make plans to get together again before you leave for Chicago. Let's have a few beers, and go dancing, and not think about the war for at least a few hours. What do you say?"

Kate smiled. "That sounds wonderful."

# Chapter 73

That evening she called Bill. An hour later, there was a knock at her door. "I came with dinner," he said, carrying a large pizza and a bottle of red wine.

"It's really good to see you again," she said, smiling, and she meant it. She retrieved a corkscrew, two glasses, two plates and napkins from the kitchen, and then she took a seat next to Bill on the couch. "How has work been going?" she asked as she uncorked the bottle of wine.

"Everybody is working extra shifts with the war in full force, trying to keep up with intelligence reports and with CNN's breaking news. It's funny, isn't it, that analysts are watching CNN to see what's happening, to keep track of the war? Journalists are our eyes on the ground. The media probably has no idea that their reporting is driving our intelligence production."

She smiled. It was enjoyable to talk about work with Bill. Actually, she thought, it was a relief to talk with Bill about anything right now.

Bill looked at her nervously. "Look, you don't have to tell me anything about what happened to you while you were gone. I'm just glad you're back. Are you taking any time off before you return to the office?"

There was so much he didn't know. "I tendered my resignation to the Secretary last week in Munich," she said.

"What?" he asked.

Over wine and pizza she told Bill about how the mass grave site at Racak was fabricated, how Gunter was killed as part of the CIA cover up, and how she wanted no longer to be a part of a government that could orchestrate such things. Bill listened intently as Kate finished her story, recounting Otto's attempts to burn her alive.

"You look so concerned," she said.

"Of course I am. It's horrible, what you've been through." He looked at her and then back down at his glass of wine.

She knew him well enough to know that he wanted to ask her a question. "What is it, Bill?"

He took a deep breath. He asked quietly, "What about Luke Davis?"

"What do you mean?" She felt her heartbeat quicken.

"You omitted him from your story. Why?"

She said, "We went our separate ways when the air campaign commenced."

Since she had left Stuttgart she had been trying not to think of Luke, and Dottie's and Bill's comments resurfaced feelings she had been working to suppress. She took a sip of wine.

Bill stood up and fumbled for something in his pocket. "Hey, here's your map. It was safely stowed in my Serbo-Croatian dictionary this whole time."

"Thanks for keeping it," she said.

"Did you ever find out anything about your dad's involvement in Kosovo?"

"I did, actually. The map didn't belong to him. The intruder in the bungalow that night was a CIA agent who had dropped the map n the study. It was a prototype of a map the CIA intended to publicize to garner additional support for the war effort, but it turns out that Racak was enough, and they didn't need it."

"What was a CIA agent doing in your bungalow?" Bill asked.

"She suspected my father's death may not have been an accident. She was there looking for evidence of murder."

"Was it murder?" he asked.

"No, it wasn't. The CIA agent was wrong," Kate said.

"What was the connection between the agent and your dad?"

"They were married a long time ago. She had heard of his passing, and she wanted to make sure the death was accidental."

"Your dad was married before he married your mother?" he asked.

"Not exactly," she said. She had no reason not to tell Bill the truth about Dr. Randall. "The CIA agent was my mother. She faked her death in Chicago when I was a baby after the KGB attempted to assassinate her. Her boss convinced her that the best way to keep me and my dad safe would be to pretend to be dead."

"That is unbelievable," he said, shaking his head. "How are you dealing with all of this?"

"Okay, I guess."

"Are you angry with her, that she's been alive this whole time?"

"She was protecting me and my dad, and I can't fault her for that. I try to think of what I would have done if I were in her shoes. She chose the path that she thought would produce a better life for me and my dad."

"Where is your mother now?" Bill asked.

"Otto killed her."

"Kate, I'm so sorry," he said. "You just found out about her, and now she's gone."

"It's all right. All of these years I believed my mother was dead, so it's been difficult to accept Dr. Randall as my mother. When I think of my mother, I always see that picture of her in the hallway of the bungalow that I stared at so many times. That's all I had, for so long."

The pair was silent for a while. Finally Bill asked, "Where is Otto?"

"I don't know."

Bill shifted uncomfortably. "Why don't you stay at my place for a while, Kate? I don't like that he's still out there."

"I won't allow myself to be afraid, Bill." She gulped, knowing Bill would not be pleased with what she was about to say next. "I'm leaving Washington."

"Where will you go?" he asked.

"I'm moving back to Chicago."

"Will it be painful to live there, with all of those memories?" he asked.

"Perhaps," she said. "Or being there might help me sort out some stuff. My aunt is there, and your parents are still in Chicago, so I'll see you around the holidays, right?"

"Otto can trace you back to Chicago," Bill said. "Please consider staying with me, just until you sort everything out. I can keep you safe."

"I don't need 'safe,' Bill. It's time for me to move on," she said, standing.

"You're back, and now you're gone again," he remarked absently.

They paused together at the front door of her apartment. He gently grabbed her hands in his. "There isn't anything I can say to convince you to stay, is there?" he asked. She forced a smile and shook her head.

He squeezed her hands and kissed her on the cheek. Before she could respond, he turned away quickly, opened the door, and walked down the steps of the apartment, out onto the street.

From her window she watched him get into his car. He sat down, closed the door, and gripped the wheel. She saw his head slump. For the second time this week she felt as if she had just made a huge mistake. She had just willingly severed the connection with the last remaining person of importance in her life.

Why had she sabotaged her relationship with Bill? She would not use him for security or comfort when she knew she could never reciprocate his feelings. She sighed, wondering if she would ever feel the way about anybody like she had felt about Luke.

# Chapter 74

As she prepared a cup of tea, she glanced up at the clock above the kitchen's back door. It was midnight. She had not slept well since her return to Chicago over a month prior. She had gotten herself into a pattern of staying up later and later at night, waiting for exhaustion to usher in sleep. She watched CNN at first out of habit, and now as an addiction, keeping a pulse on developing events in Kosovo.

It was late April, and the NATO air campaign was still in full force. The Secretary and General had assured the world that the bombing campaign would be a brief act of aggression, a small price to pay to bring peace to the region. Her own mother had naively believed that. But Milosevic was holding his ground.

Dottie had printed Kate's story, but it received little attention in mainstream media outlets, overshadowed by the day-to-day events of the war. She had hoped the article would have raised some eyebrows about how information is manipulated by governments, but the message had fallen on deaf ears.

Bill had sent her a note of congratulations after the story was published. She had been glad to hear from him. She wanted to call him, to reconnect with him, but she knew deep down that it was in his best interest to leave him alone, to let him move on. She remained isolated, reminding herself that this was a rehabilitative period, and that the loneliness she felt was temporary. It had to be.

As she stirred sugar into her tea, she told herself that there was nothing else to do but to put Kosovo behind her. The problem was that she hadn't figured out what moving on really meant, and staying connected to the war had become a strange hobby these last few weeks.

She retreated to the living room to turn on CNN for one last fix of news before retiring for the evening. She turned the television on and plopped down on the couch. Nick Nixon was still broadcasting from Kosovo, as he had been doing every day since the war started over a month ago.

Nixon looked much older than he had when the war had first begun. What had aged him, she wondered. Was it was the lack of sleep? Or perhaps it was having to face life-threatening situations on a day-to-day basis? Or maybe it was witnessing firsthand the horrors of war that had erased his innocence? Most likely, it was a combination of all three elements, she surmised.

The video footage she was viewing had been shot earlier in the day, when it was daylight in Kosovo. Kate recognized the location immediately: it was the Trepca Mining Complex in the mountains outside of Kosovska Mitrovica that she had visited on her first Verification Mission patrol.

Trepca reminded her of Otto. She recalled her first patrol of Kosovo with him, when they went to Trepca and spoke with the woman in the coffeehouse.

She shuddered, thinking of Otto. Certainly the CIA could track down anybody they wanted to find. Almost three months had passed, and Kate reassured herself that Otto was most likely dead, killed by one of his own.

Nick Nixon began to speak. "This mine at one time employed over twenty thousand people and produced seventy percent of Yugoslavia's mineral output. Over the last fifteen years the state of the mine has progressively collapsed, as a result of being a poorly managed operation under state control. Although its two smelters are inactive, and the largest part of the mine is flooded, there is great hope here among the locals that after the NATO air campaign ends, and rebuilding begins, that the plants will be decontaminated.

"According to the current mine manager, the mine's reserves are worth the effort. One of my reputable sources tells me that there is at least another fifty years of mining to be had at Trepca. This would revitalize the area, employing many, and boosting the local economy. While most of the stories that I report are about bloodshed or heartache, the Trepca mines are a source of hope here in Kosovo, a real diamond in the rough. This is Nick Nixon, reporting from Kosovo."

Kate stood up. Her heart raced with excitement. She felt a surge of energy, a feeling she had not experienced since she had been in Kosovo.

She knew what she would do next, what she was meant to do. Her mind was spinning. She didn't know where to start, to get to work on this new project that she knew, deep down, would consume her. This was it: she would mine Trepca.

# Chapter 75

The thought popped into her head so quickly, and with such force, that it bewildered her. But once the idea was there, she could think of nothing else. These last few weeks she had been telling herself that she needed to put Kosovo behind her, but for what? What else did she have?

"I will mine Trepca," she said aloud, reinforcing the notion with her voice. This initiative made perfect sense. It was the best future she could have possibly carved out for herself.

Returning to Kosovo to run a profitable business was a good plan. She would do it to help rebuild the local economy, to honor her father, and to make a reasonable living for herself. And she would do it for the adventure.

She knew a lot about mining from her dad. Before he started his business manufacturing mine safety equipment, he had worked as the foreman at one of his father's mines in central Illinois. When Kate's grandfather had asked her dad to take over the family business, he refused, saying he could not take responsibility for miners' lives until the miners were provided with proper safety equipment.

That conversation between her dad and her grandfather had been the impetus behind the birth of her dad's company. Her dad and his college roommate, a fellow engineer, began designing and manufacturing mine safety equipment right around the time when the media had begun to draw attention to the plight of the American miner and to black lung disease. The Bennett Masters Safety Company thrived.

She went to the study to draft up a business plan. As she pulled the leather chair away from the mahogany desk, she thought about how her entire life had changed since she last sat there, when she first discovered Dr. Randall's handwritten map.

She willed herself to remain focused. She began jotting down notes, elements she would need to research before she could begin to compile a business proposal. She would need to solicit the experience of an expert who could evaluate Trepca's potential value before the project even started. And then she would have to figure out how to collect enough capital to purchase and import modern mining equipment from Europe to begin operations.

Bob Masters, her dad's business partner, was the person with whom she needed to speak. Mr. Masters was a mine engineer whom she could trust. He might even be willing to go to Kosovo with her to take a look at the mine, she thought.

She thought it likely that she could also co-opt the brother of the woman she met in the coffeehouse in Stari Trg. The woman had mentioned that her brother was still working to keep the mine operational. A man like that could be a great asset, Kate thought. All this time the brother had dedicated his hard work to keeping the mine functional; his extensive knowledge of and his commitment to the mines was unparalleled. She would ask Mr. Masters to go with her to Trepca, and then the two of them could solicit the assistance of the brother in Stari Trg to help evaluate the mine's potential.

Coming up with money to start the business would be a challenge. She made a mental note to ask Mr. Masters what the value of selling her half of the Bennett Masters Safety Company to Mr. Masters would be. Perhaps the buyout would produce the capital she'd need to get things going.

Another looming challenge would be to get the State Department's permission to undertake this project. With the bombing campaign still in full force, postwar economic recovery was a great unknown. She would have to approach the State Department with her business plan before the war ended to avoid wasting valuable time negotiating a contract among dozens of other interested parties.

That night she had a difficult time going to sleep. Unlike all of the other nights over the last seven weeks, though, this insomnia wasn't precipitated by anxiety. For the first time in a while she felt her heart beat a little faster with excitement, with this new sense of purpose. She lay in bed wishing morning would come quickly so that she could get back to work.

# Chapter 76

She dialed his office number from the phone on the desk in the study.

"Kate, how nice to hear from you." He sounded surprised by her call. "How are you getting along these days?" he asked.

"I'm all right, Mr. Masters, thank you."

"What can I do for you?" he asked.

"What do you know about the Trepca Mining Complex?"

"The Trepca mines of Yugoslavia? They are rumored to be the most spectacular mineral mines in the world, but nobody knows for certain what they're worth. Why do you ask?"

"I want to mine them."

Mr. Masters laughed. "Kate, have you seen the news? There's a war going on in Kosovo. They wouldn't even let you through the front door of the country right now if you tried."

She replied, "I plan on returning to Kosovo as soon as the war ends to lay claim to the mines."

He said, "Kate, I'm sorry to say this, but I think it will be very difficult to get your project underway. You would need a lot of capital— probably at least a few million dollars— to start. It's likely you'd have to invest in all new mining equipment, and the quality of the mines are questionable: they could be polluted and flooded. Without knowing exactly what you'd be getting into, the effort is likely to be a huge waste of money. Finally, how do you know that you would get permission from Washington for such an undertaking? This may sound cynical, but it seems like the U.S. government has its pockets lined by interest groups who would be first in line at an opportunity like this, if the mines indeed turn out to be profitable."

Kate said, "I intend to submit my proposal to the State Department within the next few weeks, before others begin to consider how they might make a profit in Kosovo. I'll need at least a hundred local workers to start mining Trepca. My project would serve the State Department well, the first postwar economic recovery initiative by an American businesswoman investing in the future of Kosovo."

Mr. Masters asked, "What do you want from me, Kate?"

"If I can figure out how to secure the necessary funding to start operations at Trepca, would you be willing to go to Kosovo with me when the war ends to validate the mine's potential?"

Mr. Masters said, "I don't expect we're going to be able to waltz in after the war and investigate, Kate. Somebody will take control of the mine when the war ends, and my guess is that it will be NATO."

Kate said, "That's what I'm banking on, Mr. Masters. I agree with you that it will be NATO who assumes control of the mines, and NATO won't have any idea what to do with the complex other than to stick a small security detail at the gate to ward off trespassers. If I can convince the State Department to allow us to explore the mine, report back its potential, and secure a private contract to begin operations, the State Department could coordinate with NATO to grant us the access we need to start our project."

Mr. Masters said, "I'm not the person for the job, Kate. You need somebody to lead this effort who knows the mine."

Kate said, "I do have somebody in mind to help us out during the exploratory process. If he turns out to be a good miner, then I intend to make him director of operations on the site once we determine the mine is indeed valuable. I would like you to go with me to check out the mine because I trust your opinion."

He asked, "How could you possibly know a miner familiar with Trepca?"

She said, "I was in Kosovo on a short deployment right before the war began. I am confident that we will be able to convince this man to help us, especially if I give him a substantial financial reason to do so."

He laughed. "It sounds like you have it all worked out, Kate. You remind me very much of your father. Back in the late seventies when we first started talking about forming the Bennett Masters Safety Company, I remember having a similar conversation with a very enthusiastic young person. If he were here today, Kate, he'd be very proud of you."

She appreciated Mr. Masters's compliment. "I will have my business proposal on the Secretary of State's desk by the end of the week, with a request for a follow up personal meeting to discuss the project. If I fund your expenses, would you go with me to Kosovo to analyze the mine's potential as soon as the war ends?"

He said, "Kate, if you can get us a golden ticket into Kosovo, I'd be more than happy to help you out. This is an adventure of a lifetime for an old man like me."

"Thank you, Mr. Masters," she said.

"Call me after the war ends, with your business plan in hand and with your government stamps of approval, and then we can go from there," he said.

She felt lighter, more excited, than she felt in a long time. She did though, have one more question to ask, and she wasn't exactly sure how to do it.

"Mr. Masters," she said. "What could I get if I sold my half of the Bennett Masters Safety Company to you? You don't have to give me an estimate right now, but perhaps the next time we speak, you might have an answer for me?"

He said, "Selling your half of the company is not going to provide enough capital to begin mining Trepca, Kate. After you secure government approval for your project, you'll have to find an interested investor to endorse your endeavor.

"I'm sorry I can't loan you the money you need, Kate. Your dad and I have done well with our company, but we knew with our business model that we'd never become billionaires; we just wanted to produce items that improved the quality of life of miners. We wanted to do something worthwhile and profitable, but we never set our goals high enough to incur tremendous wealth. I'm sorry that I can't help you more on that end."

"I'll figure out a way to raise the money necessary to get the project underway. Thank you, Mr. Masters. I'll be in touch."

She sat at the desk for a few minutes, thinking about the work ahead of her. She would learn as much as she could about the Trepca Mining Complex, and about what equipment and manpower she would need to get a mining operation underway. She could worry later about how to secure the money to get the job done.

# Chapter 77

She hopped on the bus to spend the rest of the day— and as many other days as it took— learning about Trepca. As the bus sped south on Lake Shore Drive, she considered the challenge of this difficult project. She reflected upon the excitement she felt when she thought of what she could do, a pure exhilaration devoid of anxiety or fear. She had not felt this alive since... did she dare think it? Since she was in Kosovo, with Luke. As she watched icy Lake Michigan speed by, she thought about how she missed him.

The central branch of the Chicago Public Library on State Avenue lay ahead. She hopped off the bus, her dwindling thoughts of Luke replaced by immediate plans for the work at hand.

She spent hours reading archived mining journals, taking copious notes. Much of the information she found validated Mr. Masters's concern that the facility would need major upgrades. A few information sources speculated that the lead, zinc, silver and bismuth reserves were large enough to offset the start-up costs.

One article discussed the mismanagement of industrial pollution in the area, with concentrations of heavy metals in the soil around Mitrovica. Mr. Masters would want to know about this, Kate thought. He and her father were committed to minimizing emissions and pollution associated with mine production. The article Kate read stated that improvements in emissions itself were projected to cost between fifteen and thirty million dollars.

On the bus ride back to her house that evening, she wondered how, if Mr. Masters did deem the mine to be profitable, she could possibility solicit the money to get this project up and running. If the cost to clean up pollution was estimated to be in the millions, then she was probably looking at an overall project investment in the billions. How could she convince anybody to invest such a large sum of money in this endeavor? She told herself that she was just tired after a long day of research, and that she's figure out everything out over the next few days. She looked out the bus window at the grey waves lapping the rocky shore. She would make this work.

# Chapter 78

As she stood in the kitchen putting away groceries, she thought about how, ever since she had mailed her proposal to the State Department two weeks ago, life felt like a waiting game. Over the last few weeks she had spent her days submitting proposals to nonprofits known for funneling grant money to American entrepreneurs developing overseas business opportunities and to organizations providing grants to female businesswomen. It was difficult to take action, and then to sit and wait for responses. And so far, there were no responses.

That reminded her that she had forgotten to check the mail that afternoon, as had been the custom every day- and sometimes two times a day- these last two weeks.

She stepped onto the porch. A cool breeze flittered across her face, reminding her that it was May, and not yet summer. The sun had set, and it was already dark outside. She flipped on the porch light and peered into the mailbox.

An envelope caught her eye. She spied the familiar crest of the return address, and her heart skipped a beat. She tore the note open without bothering to step back inside the bungalow. There on the porch, she read carefully the text that she had been waiting to receive.

"Dear Ms. Bennett," the note read. "The Secretary of State has agreed to meet with you on Tuesday, May 20 at 2:00 p.m. to discuss your business proposal. If you are unable to make this appointment, please connect with me immediately. Sincerely, Robert Smith, Alice Anderson's personal secretary."

Until the last few days, she had wholly believed that Secretary Anderson would approve her project. Her belief had begun to erode as the days progressed without word. And now here was a note confirming that indeed there was interest in her project, and that there was a chance she would obtain the government approval she would need to move forward with her plans.

It was Thursday. She had only a few more days before the Tuesday meeting in Washington to secure funding. Having at least one grant under her belt would greatly improve her credibility with the Secretary to get her project off the ground. It was time to investigate commercial loans, she decided. Tomorrow she would make appointments with a handful of banks around town to see what they might be able to do for her.

As she stepped back over the threshold, back into the foyer with her letter in hand, the gate buzzer rang. Her heart skipped a beat. Who could possibly be here to see her?

# Chapter 79

She peered out the glass panes of the front door she had just closed, but it was too dark to see who was there. She felt a stab of dread, and then she decided her fear was irrational. Who had ever heard of an assassin ringing his victim's buzzer? No, it could not be Otto seeking his revenge. Just put on shoes, she coaxed herself, and go out on the front porch to see who it is.

She opened the door. It was cool outside, and quiet. She waited a moment on the porch, adjusting her vision to see who was there.

"Hi," was all he said, but she recognized the voice immediately. A wave of relief rushed over her. She pushed the button at the front door to unlock the gate. She watched his frame walk briskly towards her.

She could see his face clearly as he approached. "I missed you," Luke said, smiling, as he climbed the front steps.

"I missed you, too," she said. He embraced her tightly, and then she stepped back to look at him. "Please come in," she offered.

She watched his gaze dance around the porch, and his smile evaporated.

"Would you be willing to go out instead?" he asked. "Perhaps we could walk to a restaurant nearby?"

She said, "Sure. There's a great pub a few blocks from here." She slipped on her coat, and they walked back down the front porch steps together, out through the gate and onto the sidewalk.

As they walked south, the downtown skyscrapers loomed ahead. "Chicago is more beautiful than I imagined," he said.

It felt strange to be strolling Inner Lake Shore Drive with Luke Davis. She had walked this way a million times before, but never before in his presence. She struggled to overcome the awkward feeling with words. "When I was a little girl, I'd run across the street to play out here in Lincoln Park. We'd visit the lions in the zoo a few blocks away almost daily in the summer, and on weekends, my dad and I would ride the bus downtown to explore the most wonderful museums."

She continued, "The view of the city from the restaurant on the ninety-fifth floor of Hancock tower is tremendous. If you're still going to be here tomorrow, we should do that." She noticed she had been speaking too rapidly.

He laughed. "You're a good tour guide, Kate."

She smiled, feeling more at ease. "Did you come to Chicago to sightsee?" she asked laughingly.

They stopped outside of the pub.

He whispered, "Kate, you're in danger. I came to warn you."

Her smile evaporated. "What do you mean?" she asked.

Loud music from the live band billowed outside. It was a Thursday evening, and the pub was packed. "Let's grab a table, and I'll tell you everything," he said.

They seated themselves in a booth near the back, away from the crowd. He leaned in across the table, toward her, speaking softly. "Watson was in Stuttgart a few days ago looking for you. I found him loitering outside my apartment when I got home from work one evening. He thought you were living with me, and he was greatly disturbed when I told him I didn't know where you had gone."

"What did he want?" she asked.

"When Watson found out Otto had murdered Dr. Randall, he fired Otto on the spot. He said he always knew Otto was a loose cannon, but that Otto had crossed a line in killing Dr. Randall. Watson went to Stuttgart to warn you that Otto would not rest until you were dead, as Otto blames you for ruining his career with the CIA."

Kate frowned. "Isn't the CIA doing anything to try to contain him?"

"Did you install that security camera on your front porch?" Luke asked.

"What security camera?" she asked.

"When we were on your front porch, I noticed a high tech security camera mounted on the ceiling of the front porch of the bungalow. It looked new, and very expensive. The red light on it was flashing, and the camera moved a bit while you and I were talking."

Kate thought a moment. "Do you think the CIA installed the camera to protect me?"

Luke shrugged his shoulders. "When I told Watson I thought you were back in Washington, he said he'd make a few calls to his colleagues to track you down. I asked him how he intended to protect you from Otto. He said that as soon as they found you, they'd place a camera and a listening device in your home, and they'd dedicate an agent on call nearby to watch and listen."

"That's good news, then. They're watching and listening. That makes me feel even safer." She sipped her beer.

Luke shook his head. "I don't believe the surveillance equipment was installed to protect you."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"What if the CIA plans to use you as a lure to trap Otto? You're a liability to the Agency, with everything that you know about how the war in Kosovo was precipitated. And I'm sure they didn't appreciate the article that your friend from _The Washington Post_ wrote. They have to know you were the source behind it."

She shook her head. "If I were a liability to the Agency, then they've had plenty of chances to take me out already. I'm not leading a clandestine life, you know."

He said, "Maybe that's true. But what if the CIA leads Otto to you purposely? Let Otto kill you, and then the CIA could trap Otto. The madman takes out the whistle blower, and then the CIA eliminates the serial assassin to cover its tracks in Kosovo. If the CIA is paving the way for Otto to assassinate you, then you have a huge target on your head. It's not safe at your house, Kate."

The waitress returned with their food and another round of beers. Kate used the interruption as an opportunity to change the subject. "How long will you stay in Chicago? I'm surprised they let you take leave to come here, with the war going on."

"I'm not on leave," he said. "I resigned from the Army."

"I didn't think the Army discharged officers so easily, especially during a war," she said.

"After you left Stuttgart, all I could think about was my complicity in an unjust war. A few days ago I requested a meeting with General Willis and asked him for an honorable discharge in exchange for my promise to keep silent about his affair with Secretary Anderson. He readily accepted my resignation. The next day Watson came to my apartment looking for you. I hopped a flight to Chicago this morning."

She said, "You've had an interesting few days."

"You could say that," he said. He smiled. "It's so good to see you, Kate."

She loved the sparkle in his eyes, how it revealed so clearly his zest for life. "I didn't know if I would ever see you again," she said.

The waitress brought their bill. Kate said, "I know you don't think it's a good idea to go back to the bungalow, but where should I go? I can't keep running forever."

"I agree," he said. "But it wouldn't hurt to lay low for a while."

She nodded, staring absentmindedly at the band, feeling the beat of the bass in her eardrums. "Let me grab a few things back at the house, and then we can start our underground life together."

He laughed. "It's not always going to be like this, you know, all action and intrigue. One of these days our lives will be nice and normal and boring."

She smiled. "With you, I can't imagine that will ever be the case."

# Chapter 80

They checked into the Lincoln Park hostel and adjourned to the common room to catch up before turning in for the night. The room reminded her of a dormitory study room: it was sterile, with bright orange cinderblock walls, and moderately comfortable purple and maroon chairs. They were the only two in the entire space.

"Now that you're no longer in the Army, what will you do next?" she asked.

"I'm headed back to Kosovo after the war ends to join the International Red Cross's demining effort. They're taking applicants now for minesweeping operations to commence as soon as a peace agreement is reached."

"When do you think the end of the war will happen?" she asked.

"It's been a few months, and NATO hasn't given Milosevic a reason to capitulate yet. I don't see what will change Milosevic's mind. But at some point one side has to realize that this air campaign cannot continue indefinitely. When that happens, I'll go back to help in the rebuilding effort."

"That sounds like a good plan," she said.

"I spent a lot of time trying to figure out what to do next, after the Army," he said. "The only place that made sense was Washington, where there would be lots of opportunities for jobs for an old Army captain there. But then one day I was thinking about how far back the bombing campaign is going to set Kosovo from an infrastructure perspective, and I felt this fire inside me, like going back there to help rebuild was what I was meant to do.

"Demining is dangerous work, but it's incredibly important. It's the first step to helping people feel safe in their communities. I saw lots of kids in Bosnia with missing legs because of forgotten mines. If I can save one kid's livelihood, it would all be worth it. I'm eager to help rebuild Kosovo, and this opportunity seemed like the right fit."

He looked at her intently. "I know what you're thinking. You think I'll never settle down, and that I'm on to the next adventure, and this is how it's always going to be."

She laughed. "Of course it is, and that's why I like you. I can't imagine you settled down, and I would never want you to change who you are."

He smiled. "That is the nicest thing anybody's ever said to me, Kate. I'm glad we have this time together before I have to leave again."

She grinned widely. "What is it?" he asked.

"You're not going to have to choose between being with me and going back, you know, because I'm returning, too."

"You are?" he asked.

She said, "I have an appointment with Secretary Anderson on Tuesday to discuss my business plan for assuming ownership of the Trepca mines."

Luke looked at her quizzically. "I thought it was just a grandiose Serb rumor that there were riches buried deep in the mines."

"It might be," she admitted. "Or the mines could actually hold potential. My dad's business partner, Tom Masters, agreed to explore the complex with me as soon as the war ends."

"Assuming the mines are profitable, where will you get the seed money to purchase equipment and labor for your operations?" he asked.

"I still have to figure that one out. The only good thing about the war dragging on is that it will buy me some time to come up with a finance plan." She smiled. "With your background as a stock broker, maybe I should give you some money to invest in the stock market for me. Can you double my money?"

"Not anymore," he admitted. He sat back in his chair, his hands interwoven behind his head. "So I'm returning to Kosovo to detonate land mines, and you'll be mining the lands in search of treasure. I don't believe it."

"I was right," she said.

"About what?" he asked.

"That 'nice, normal, and boring' isn't in our future."

"I'll drink to that," he said, as he raised an imaginary glass in salute to her.

# Chapter 81

The chime of CNN's breaking news from the television across the deserted lounge interrupted their conversation. Kate and Luke moved silently toward the TV to see what was happening.

"We interrupt our scheduled program with breaking news in Berlin. We are here with the German Defense Minister, Hans Kleinschmidt, who is about to share some important information about the developing ground situation in Kosovo."

Minister Kleinschmidt cleared his throat. "This morning the German Defense Ministry discovered Serb military plans that have been underway for months to cleanse Kosovo of all ethnic Albanians. This report is the first to implicate the Serbs in a premeditated plan of genocide. It was fortuitous that we were able to uncover this information before the Serbs could begin putting their plan into action."

"I don't believe this," Luke muttered. Kate held her breath, her eyes glued to the TV.

The Minister pointed to a map on the wall behind him. As the TV camera panned in on the map, he said, "This map was confiscated from Serb military headquarters in Kosovo by a German undercover intelligence agent this morning. The Serbs named this plan 'Operation Horseshoe' to describe the horseshoe shape that the military forces would imitate to encircle the Albanians and drive them out of Kosovo into Macedonia and into Albania."

Kate stood up and moved closer to the TV to try to get a better look at the map. It was difficult to see any details, as the Minister's body masked most of the display.

She saw at the top corner of the map in small black block letters the word "potkova." She recognized Pec-23, Podujevo-47, and Urosevac-12.

"Is this Dr. Randall's map?" Luke said.

She nodded. "The map on TV is exactly the same as the handwritten map in every way, except this one is written in Latin instead of Cyrillic script, and the numbers aren't written out as words."

"Nobody will believe this is legitimate intelligence," Luke said confidently. "It's preposterous that the Serbs would create a map outlining a plan for genocide."

"I hope you're right," Kate said. "Certainly the international community realizes that Milosevic would do better to control a low level KLA insurgency than to try to eradicate Kosovo of the ethnic Albanian population."

He sat up straight. "Wait. What was the word at the top of your map?"

"Potkova."

"Do you mean 'potkovica?'" he said.

"No. It was definitely 'potkova.'"

He leaned in closer to her. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm positive," she said. "It was 'potkova', not the diminutive 'potkovica.' It was only seven Cyrillic letters."

"Look, the breaking news report is being rerun. We have a second chance to view the map." He leaned in to the TV closely. His eyes glimmered with excitement.

"Look behind Minister Kleinschmidt. You can clearly see that this map says 'potkova' too," he said.

"So the handwritten map from the bungalow is the same as the map the Germans discovered. Why are you excited about this? Dr. Randall told us that her map was the backup plan, in case the State Department needed additional ammunition to endear public support for the NATO air campaign."

"But Dr. Randall screwed up, and CNN just broadcast her mistake to the entire world."

"Luke, what are you talking about?"

He jumped up excitedly and continued. "If this were a true Serb map, you'd never see the word 'potkova' on it. 'Potkova' is the _Croatian_ word for horseshoe. The Serbs say 'potkovica.' This subtle linguistic difference is all the proof we need that Operation Horseshoe is a hoax."

"Are you sure?" she asked.

He continued, "Most Serbo-Croatian words are shared between Serbs and Croats, but not every word is the same. Words for swearing, games, and specific ethnic traditions are different."

She asked, "How could you possibly know the Serbs have a different word for 'horseshoe' than the Croats?"

He sat back down. "In Bosnia I used to play horseshoes with a bunch of old men in Sarajevo when I was off duty. Some of the men were Serb, and some were Croat, but they had all been friends for many years. They used to say that if the Serbs won the war, then the game of horseshoes would forever more be called 'potkovica,' and if the Croats were victorious, everybody would be forced to refer to the game as 'potkova.'"

She couldn't help herself from interrupting him. "In your free time in Sarajevo you played horseshoes with old men?"

He held up his hands in protest. "It was an intelligence collection opportunity."

She laughed. "So did you get any good info from the old men?"

"No," he said, smiling. "But I always looked forward to heading over to the park to play. It was a good break from reality, to see Serbs and Croats getting along and joking about the war. They made me believe that once the war ended, reconciliation might be possible. Maybe it would have been, if the old men had anything to say about it."

"If what you've just discovered is true," she asked, "then isn't the entire Serb world going to easily protest the map as incredible?"

Luke said, "CNN only showed the illustration for a few seconds, and the minister's body covered up most of the map during the short time it was visible. The minister never verbalized 'potkova'; he kept saying 'horseshoe' in English. I didn't notice any of the details on the map that you knew about, so I'd be surprised if anybody else had a chance to see them, too."

"Why did the CIA resurrect Dr. Randall's map?" she asked. "Why now?"

"Maybe it's because Milosevic isn't capitulating like the architects of the bombing campaign believed. The bombing's been going on for a few months now, and nothing has gotten better; rather, things have gotten much worse, with a growing humanitarian crisis on hand, as refugees flee Kosovo to Macedonia and Albania."

Kate nodded. "People are beginning to question whether the bombing campaign was a good idea after all."

He added, "So let's give the people an indication that the Serbs were planning genocide this entire time. Let's make people believe the dire humanitarian crisis that's taking place now would have also ensued in the absence of NATO."

They were quiet for a few moments. Once again Kate felt helpless to correct a seemingly omnipotent misinformation campaign. "I have an appointment with the Secretary of State on Tuesday morning," she said. "Maybe while I'm in her office, I should ask Alice Anderson why the State Department doesn't have a better Serbo-Croatian linguist proofing the CIA's hoaxes."

"You're not afraid of a fight, are you, Kate Bennett?"

"I suppose not," she said.

# Chapter 82

She sat in the anteroom of Secretary Anderson's office feeling like a stranger, even though she had walked the same halls outside of this reception area so many times before. Her life before, her entire career, felt so foreign to her now.

The Secretary opened her office door. "Ms. Bennett, please come in."

Kate entered the Secretary's office. The Secretary sat down behind her desk. Kate took a seat across the oversized desk.

"Madam Secretary, what I have to propose won't take but a moment of your time. I would like the United States government's support in evaluating the vitality of the Trepca Mining Complex in Stari Trg as soon as the war ends."

Kate noticed the look of shock on the Secretary's face. "What kind of support are you soliciting, Ms. Bennett?"

"I would simply like permission to examine the mines the day after the war ends."

"And why should you be granted this luxury, Ms. Bennett? Why shouldn't you compete for the business like every other contractor does?"

"I do intend to compete for the business, Madam Secretary. But the U.S. government will need a public relations win as soon as the war ends, a promise to the Kosovar Albanians of the economic boon democracy will bring to the region. The State Department doesn't have months to waste waiting for the contracting department to lazily review business proposals at their convenience. As president of KB Mining, I would simply like permission to evaluate the mine's potential as soon as the war ends. You are certainly free to grant any competitors the same courtesy."

The Secretary said, "I'll ask the same question again, Ms. Bennett. Why should I afford you this opportunity?"

Kate handed a binder to the Secretary. "Here is KB Mining's complete business proposal for turning the Trepca Mining Complex into a highly profitable endeavor. The first step in the process is to evaluate the extent and quality of mineral composition present. I have assembled a team ready to perform this action. If the mines are deemed profitable, then we can get to work immediately."

"How do you know anything about mining?" the Secretary asked. Then she added. "Oh, wait, I had forgotten. Your father was a miner before he started his own business manufacturing mine safety equipment. Obviously Alex's influence on you was great."

Kate nodded. "As a child I knew much more than your average adult about the mechanics of mining."

"Where will you get the money for such an endeavor?" the Secretary asked.

"Our estimated project expenses can be found in tab four. I am prepared to cover all expenses up front."

The Secretary flipped through a few pages of the proposal. She looked squarely at Kate.

Kate said nothing. Did the Secretary realize she didn't have the money? Kate looked down at her hands clasped in her lap.

Finally the Secretary said, "Why should I agree to this?"

Kate said, "If the mines are deemed profitable, my operation will provide an excellent opportunity for Kosovo's economy to rebound. I will employ local workers at a fair wage. Our miners will don safety equipment to keep themselves healthy, and our machines will possess all of the latest technology to keep emissions low into the surrounding environment. KB Mining will be the leading business success story of postwar Kosovo. I guarantee it."

Secretary Anderson was quiet for a moment. "If I agree to allow you to do this, what do I get out of it?"

Kate said, "You should agree to my proposal simply because when my mining operation succeeds, then your foreign policy succeeds. That's it."

"I can't do it, Kate. The mining lobbyists would have a field day if they knew I had permitted somebody to meet with me to discuss a mining opportunity in Kosovo before our preferred business partners had a chance to consider the opportunity. I'm sorry."

Kate nodded, and stood up. Quietly she said, "If you sign this agreement allowing KB Mining to explore Trepca as soon as a cease fire agreement between NATO and Milosevic is reached, I will refrain from going to the media about Operation Horseshoe being a hoax."

The Secretary stood up. "That's a grave accusation, Ms. Bennett."

"Indeed it is, but it's true. In my possession is the handwritten prototype of Operation Horseshoe that Dr. Randall drafted in December."

"How is that possible that you have a copy of the map?"

"Dr. Randall accidentally dropped it in my father's study when she was searching for evidence of whether his death was intentional."

"So you have a handwritten version of the Operation Horseshoe map that Minister Kleinschmidt revealed on CNN a few days ago? You could have worked it up yourself. That's not proof that Kleinschmidt's map is a hoax."

"You're right, Madam Secretary. There is no way to prove that the map in my possession is the CIA's prototype. But Dr. Randall made a serious error on the prototype, which wasn't corrected in the final form, and which aired on CNN last Thursday evening."

"What error?"

"Dr. Randall used the Croatian word for horseshoe, 'potkova,' instead of the Serbian word, 'potkovica.' CNN only showed Minister Kleinschmidt's map for a brief moment, but it was long enough for me to spot the error. It's documented CNN footage."

The Secretary drummed her fingertips on her desk. She said nothing for a few moments. "Very well, Ms. Bennett. I shall sign your agreement."

Secretary Anderson sat back down at her desk to review the contract. She picked up her pen. Kate realized her heart was beating a mile a minute.

As the Secretary signed her name on the agreement, she said, "Tomorrow morning the International Tribunal Court will indict Milosevic for war crimes. The threat of going to jail should be enough pressure for Milosevic to call for an end to the war. But if that's not enough to force our favorite egomaniac to capitulate, NATO is going to begin bombing targets in downtown Belgrade in two days. Dropping bombs in Belgrade means blackouts disruptions to Serbs' daily lives, which should create enough domestic pressure on Milosevic to end the war." Secretary Anderson looked squarely at Kate. "You'd better get your mining team ready and on the sidelines, Ms. Bennett. The war's end is near."

Kate reminded herself that she was here for a business meeting with the Secretary of State, that the Secretary had signed her agreement, and that it was in her best interest to keep her cool. She tried not to think about the fact that the U.S. was considering decimating Belgrade as a desperate effort to strong arm Milosevic into capitulating.

The Secretary seemed to sense Kate's reaction to the news. "I know what you're thinking, Ms. Bennett. You believe we fabricated Racak and Operation Horseshoe to hurry along the war in Kosovo. Perhaps you agree with others that the NATO bombing campaign facilitated a massive humanitarian catastrophe, as hundreds of thousands of civilians fled the province to escape the bombs. Perhaps you also believe the NATO air campaign was a failure, because it wasn't over in a few days like we all had expected, and now we're having to resort to bombing Belgrade because we've run out of targets in Kosovo. Think what you want, Ms. Bennett. The truth is that this war would have happened no matter what. We just pushed it along a little, to save lives in the end."

"'An Expedited War,'" Kate mused. "That would be a good title for your memoirs."

The grin faded from the Secretary's countenance. "You'd better have your scouting team and your financing in order, Ms. Bennett. You'll have a very small window of time to prove yourself, you know."

# Chapter 83

She stepped off the plane at O'Hare International Airport, eager to get back to the hostel to share with Luke the good news about her gaining approval to scout out Trepca.

She hopped on the blue line at the terminal in the airport and chose a window seat in a car near the back of the train. As the El lunged out of the tunnel, she spied the lights of the city around her. It felt good to be back home.

She watched the scenes as they whizzed by. "You look like a child who's riding a train for the first time," the man sitting next to her commented.

When had he appeared? Kate realized she was so deep in thought that she had not noticed him sitting next to her. She looked around the car. There were no other passengers, just she and the white haired man. Suddenly she felt nervous. Why had he chosen to sit by her? She berated herself for not being more attentive, and for not sitting closer to the front of the train, near the driver.

Kate turned to look at the man. She noticed his black suit and bow tie, his spectacles, and the neat trim of his white hair. She didn't recognize him, but he seemed to be taking a special interest in her. He didn't appear to be a vagrant. What did he want?

He said, "When I had heard that Otto had killed your mother, I started to worry that perhaps he might come after you, to finish the job."

Kate's eyes widened. Here she was, stuck on a moving train with somebody who knew her and who knew Otto. This was no chance occurrence.

The man continued. "I convinced Headquarters to keep tabs on you. We can't be too careful, with a madman like that."

"Who are you?" Kate asked.

"I was a colleague of your mother's. My name is Tom Marshall." Kate recalled the name: Tom Marshall was Dr. Randall's supervisor.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"To reassure you that you are safe in your home. There are security cameras canvassing the entire perimeter of your property. The camera feeds are monitored by an agent a few blocks away who, upon noticing anything suspicious, could be at your house in three minutes."

Kate said nothing. She thought about Luke's theory: that the CIA was banking on Kate as bait to lure Otto in so that they could get him back under wraps.

"You can go home, Kate. We will get him before he gets to you." Marshall said.

"I'm all right on my own, thanks," she said.

"I found you tonight. He can find you anywhere, too," he said.

She looked at Marshall. His expression was devoid of emotion. He was so matter-of-fact about everything, so calm and in control. She recalled Dr. Randall's story of having phoned Marshall to help her discard the Russian assassin's body over twenty years ago. He looked almost grandfatherly now, but given the little she knew about Tom Marshall, she knew he could still be dangerous.

"How did you know I was at the airport?" she asked.

"You met with the Secretary of State today," he said tonelessly.

"How could you possibly know that?" she asked, her pulse quickening.

"The surveillance is for your own protection, Kate. The more we know about what you're up to, the easier it is to protect you from Otto."

She didn't like the idea of being watched around the clock. She wondered when the cameras had been installed. She thought back to the last few weeks in the bungalow, and how they had been watching everything she did. She had nothing to hide, but she felt uneasy about this breach of privacy.

"I know you don't trust me," he said flatly. "I came here to personally assure you that we'll keep you safe until Otto is contained."

"Why would you go to such lengths, Mr. Marshall?"

"I owe your mother that courtesy," he said.

The Addison stop was approaching. This stop was as good as any, she thought, to make a run for it. "I have to go," she said suddenly.

She spotted a Chicago Transit Authority agent in the brightly lit ticket booth at the Addison station.

"If you get off this train with me," she warned, "I will tell that woman in the booth you're after me. I know you don't want any attention from the police, Mr. Marshall." She spoke forcefully, hoping her threat would convince him to leave her alone.

She fled through the open train doors at the Addison stop, and he did not follow. She looked back and saw him watching her from inside the train. She stood on the platform, watching him, too, until the train moved into a tunnel, and he was out of sight.

Maybe Marshall was telling the truth, and that he was there to protect her. But she was unsettled by the surveillance. He tracked her down at the airport and followed her into the train she had planned to take directly back to the hostel.

Kate ran across the platform and up the steps, out onto Addison Street, as fast as she could. She would have at least three minutes before the blue line train pulled into the Belmont stop, when Marshall could disembark next. She saw the Addison bus approaching the train station. When it came to a stop in front of her, she climbed on and grabbed a seat near the door.

She looked out the window, watching the Roscoe Village row homes pass by, and then the glitz of Clark Street, and giant Wrigley Field, supplanted right there in the middle of the city. She rode the bus all the way to the end of Addison Street.

She walked south, down Inner Lake Shore Drive, to Diversey Avenue, where the hostel was located, and where Luke would be waiting for her. She took a deep breath to try to calm herself. Marshall had rattled her nerves. How had he known about her meeting with the Secretary of State? She had coordinated none of her travel plans from the bungalow. So how had he known?

# Chapter 84

"How was your business trip?" he asked, putting down his book as she entered the room.

"Secretary Anderson signed the contract," she said.

He noticed the look on her face. "What's wrong?" he asked.

She sat down on the edge of the bed.

"What happened?" he asked.

"I met an associate of Dr. Randall's on the train ride from the airport," she said. "He knew I was returning from a meeting with the Secretary. How could he have known that?"

"I don't know," Luke said, shaking his head. "What else did he say?"

"He said the CIA installed surveillance equipment at the bungalow for my security, and that Otto was a threat, and that he owed it to Dr. Randall to protect me."

"Do you trust him?"

"No," she admitted. "I think your theory that the Agency is using me as bait to trap Otto is the more plausible explanation."

"I'm sorry, Kate. This is no way to live," he said.

"I thought about that on the way back here," she said. "It's time to leave Chicago. There's nothing left for us here except the threat of Otto reappearing, which in itself is a good enough reason to leave. I'm going back to the bungalow to collect my things. My best chances of raising money for the Trepca project are in Washington anyway."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I think I may need to relinquish full control of my project to partner with another mining company on Trepca. Secretary Anderson said there's a strong mining industry lobby in Washington. I'll nose around and try to find out which mining companies might be interested in Trepca, and then I'll approach them with a business proposal."

"It's settled, then," he said. "You'll return to Washington to secure funding for the mining project, and I'll start training with the International Red Cross in Sarajevo."

"And eventually we meet back in Kosovo," she said.

"Can you believe it?" he asked. "That we're headed back again so soon?"

"Not really," she admitted. She kept to herself her worry that if she could not secure funding, she would not be returning at all.

# Chapter 85

From Diversey they walked south on Inner Lake Shore Drive. She never grew tired walking this way, towards the city, the light so tall and bright.

"Congratulations on getting approval from Secretary Anderson to mine Trepca," Luke said, "We should figure out a way to celebrate your victory, overcoming the first hurdle in your efforts to start your new career. Well done, Kate."

"I don't feel much like celebrating," she admitted. "I made a deal with the devil to get it done."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Secretary Anderson was resistant to signing my contract. I told her that I would refrain from going to the media with evidence that Operation Horseshoe was a hoax. She signed the agreement immediately."

"So what's the problem?" he said.

"I'm a hypocrite, Luke. I risked my life over Racak, and now I'm willing to cover up Operation Horseshoe to benefit myself."

"That's not true, Kate. Telling the truth about Racak was about trying to stop the war from happening. It's happening now, and there's nothing we can do. Exposing Operation Horseshoe as a hoax will bring embarrassment to the U.S. government, but it's unlikely to usher an immediate end of the air campaign. You used information to further your own good cause, the rebuilding of Kosovo after the war. You did what you had to do."

She frowned. "Maybe. It didn't feel right, though, wheeling and dealing like that."

"You did what you had to do to get the ball rolling, that's all."

She appreciated his words of encouragement, even though she still felt as if she had compromised her values. She shook off the feeling. What was done could not be undone, and she had no choice but to move on.

She spied the bungalow about a quarter mile ahead. Luke asked, "Is this return to your house necessary, Kate?" he asked. "You know the Agency will be watching. Maybe we should just hail a taxi back to the airport."

She shook her head. "I left some of my notes on Trepca in the study that I will need in Kosovo. From Washington I'll leave straight for Kosovo as soon as the war ends, so this is my last chance in a while to grab a few things. Who knows when I'll be able to get back?"

"Marshall and his agents will see us tonight when we return," he said. "And they're going to know something is up, if they see you throwing clothing and papers into a suitcase."

"We'll be quick," she said. "We'll get in, grab my things, and then we can be out again within five minutes. They may see us, but we won't give them enough time to get somebody there on the ground while we're there. Then when we get back out, we can hail a cab back to the hostel to make airline arrangements for tomorrow morning."

She was not looking forward to being back to the bungalow. She didn't want to be watched again. But what choice did they have, if they were leaving Chicago for good? The bungalow was in sight.

He grabbed her hand. "It's going to be okay, Kate."

"I know," she said. She didn't really know, but she hoped that it would be.

# Chapter 86

She opened the gate door quickly, and they ran up the steps, to the front door. Her hand was trembling. She fit the key into the keyhole, and pushed open the door.

"We're in," she whispered. "The study is through the family room, on your left. I will..."

"Kate!" she heard him yell.

She whirled around. She saw Luke's body hit the wooden floor. Standing behind Luke's crumpled body was Otto, with a bat in hand.

"It ends here," Otto said. "You evaded me at the farmhouse, and you escaped death at Racak, but it's over now,"

She mustered the courage to speak, hoping that perhaps she could stall him long enough for Luke to wake up, or for the CIA agent on surveillance duty to arrive.

As she spoke, her mind raced, thinking of possible exit strategies. "Your career as an assassin is over, Otto," she said. "The CIA never commissioned you to kill me. You went rogue, which means that when they find my body, they'll know you did it, and they'll imprison you for murder."

A maniacal grin spread across Otto's face. He said, "Your faulty logic, Ms. Bennett, is that you think they'll find me. They won't. And the CIA isn't the only gig in town. There are plenty of terrorist groups that would be happy to employ me, with all of my corporate experience. My new life begins as yours ends."

She lunged at him, intending to pierce his eyes and thrash at his neck with her hands, her only weapon. She was no physical match for Otto, but she had to distract him for a few seconds to try to escape through the back door in the kitchen. He pushed her down violently on the hard wood floor.

She watched him pull a handgun with a silencer out of a holster on his hip. She didn't want this to be the end. If she kept moving, then perhaps she could evade a few bullets. She would struggle as long as she could.

She looked over at Luke, desperately hoping he would regain consciousness soon, and that he would save her life yet again. But Luke still lay there on the floor, exactly where he had fallen. And where was the CIA agent on duty commissioned to protect her? Hadn't it been at least three minutes?

Otto noticed Kate's gaze. He turned to look back at Luke.

This was her chance- probably her only chance- to escape. Her hip hurt from Otto's shove, but she knew she had to move if she wanted to survive. She jumped to her feet and darted out of the foyer. Her feet felt like bricks, her movements too slow, as she hustled through the dining room and through the kitchen, to the back door. She knew it was unlikely that she would be able to unlock the door and get outside before Otto shot her, but she had to try.

She had one advantage over Otto: she could navigate in this house- her house- in the dark. She circumvented the kitchen table, and her right hand grasped the deadbolt. _Turn, turn_ , she thought. She willed her fingers to turn the deadbolt. _Now turn the knob_ , she told her left hand. _Fling open that door_.

The first bullet grazed her ear, shattering the windowpane in front of her. _Get out_ , she screamed to herself. _Hurry, hurry_. She felt her heart pumping. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion.

Her hand slipped from the knob. _Don't screw up now_ , she coached herself. The second bullet grazed her right shoulder. She didn't feel the pain at first, just the impact of her shoulder hitting the door from the tremendous power of the bullet.

_Keep going_ , she told herself. _If you can just get outside, you can run and scream for help. You're in Chicago, and someone will help you, if you can just get out to the street._

She grabbed the knob again. Her hand was wet and slippery. Was it blood, she wondered? Why was she having so much trouble opening the door?

She suddenly noticed the absence of bullets flying around her. What had changed? Otto intended to kill her, and he was a good shot, so why hadn't it happened yet?

She garnered the courage to turn around. She turned and peered into the kitchen, but she didn't see Otto. The pain in her shoulder was growing, and she felt dizzy. She lumbered back away from the door and around the kitchen table, back into the dining room.

In the dining room she saw Luke and Otto struggling on the carpet. Otto was straddled over Luke, clutching Luke's neck.

Kate searched frantically for Otto's gun. She didn't see it at first, but then she caught a glimmer of the metal near the china cabinet. She lunged for the gun. If she could at least secure the weapon, perhaps it would give Otto a reason to ease up on Luke.

Kate picked up the gun. Thank goodness she was left handed, she thought, as the pain of the wound in her right shoulder radiated down the right side of her body. Her arm shook as she raised the gun and aimed it at Otto's head.

She had seen plenty of action movies to know how this scene was supposed to go. The heroine would make a final statement to the villain about how crime never pays, and how the good guys always win. But no words came to her. She willed herself, instead, to act.

Otto looked up at her holding his gun in her hand. He smiled smugly, as if he believed she would never be able to do what she was about to do. She pulled the trigger. The bullet hit Otto's skull, and his body toppled over Luke's. She heard Luke gasp, air rushing into his lungs as he struggled to breathe.

She pushed Otto's large, limp body off Luke. Luke looked up at her, and then over at Otto's body. A pool of blood had begun to form where the bullet had exited Otto's brain.

She sat down on the dining room rug beside Luke, holding her right shoulder.

He sat up. "Are you all right?" he whispered.

She nodded. "How did you do it?" she asked. "How did you stop him from killing me?"

He cleared his throat and spoke softly. "I was regaining consciousness when you were trying to scratch his eyes out. When he chased you into the kitchen, I bludgeoned him with his bat. The blow knocked the gun out of his hands, but it didn't hurt him enough to stop him from almost strangling me to death."

"Thanks for saving my life. For the third time," she said.

He said, "I guess I have to suffer two more near death experiences until we're even."

The roar of the ambulance siren signaled the near term approach of police and medics.

"Let's just call it a draw," she offered.

# Chapter 87

"I'm surprised you were still conscious when you arrived, given the large amount of blood you lost as a result of your gunshot wound, Ms. Bennett," the emergency room doctor advised her as he tended to her injury. As soon as I'm done stitching you up, I'm admitting you into the hospital for an overnight stay."

"I feel fine, Dr. Gordon, honest," Kate said. "The bullet only grazed my shoulder."

"That may be true, but it's hospital policy to admit emergency room patients who've suffered trauma to the extent your body has experienced. We'll observe you over the next twelve hours, just to ensure you're fine, before we set you free." Dr. Gordon finished the stitches. "I'll get the paperwork moving to have you resettled upstairs shortly."

Dr. Gordon left the cordoned area. A few minutes later, Luke popped his head around the curtain.

"Hi," he said. "I heard the doctor say you're being admitted. How are you feeling?"

"I'm completely fine," she said. "This is really unnecessary."

"That might be true, but spending the night here is preferable to being back at the bungalow, which is probably an extensive crime scene by now."

"Have you spoken to the police yet?"

He nodded. "I told them everything. The officer who interviewed me is waiting in the reception area to speak to you when you're ready to talk."

"Who called the police?" she asked.

"They said the call came in from your neighbor, who heard gunshots."

"The CIA didn't come to our rescue," she said. "You were right, Luke. They weren't trying to protect me."

The emergency room nurse took Kate upstairs to get settled in her room for the night. Luke and the police officer followed. Kate answered all of the police officer's questions as completely as she could. Toward the end of the session, she started to feel a little weak, and her shoulder began to throb with a dull pain.

"Would you like us to station an officer outside of your room tonight for security?" the police officer asked.

"No, but thank you," she said. "It's over."

Luke turned to address the police officer. "Do you think you could get me permission from the nurse to stay the night?" Luke asked. "If there's not going to be an armed police officer here, I'd feel better staying." The police officer nodded and left the room.

Luke sat down on the chair next to her bed. He asked quietly, "Do you really feel confident that it's over, Kate? Otto is dead, but what about Marshall? Do you think Marshall might order a hit on you, to tie up loose ends?"

She was too tired to consider that the nightmare might not be over. She sighed. "I doubt it. I told Dottie everything I knew, and she published it. It's not like I have any other secrets that the CIA could be worried I might disclose."

"What about Operation Horseshoe?"

"I made a deal with Secretary Anderson. She knows my word is good. I'm no threat to anybody any longer."

"I hope you're right," he said.

"I don't know what I would do without you," she said wearily. She felt him squeeze her arm, and then she drifted off into sleep.

# Chapter 88

Standing in the foyer of the bungalow, not even twenty-four hours after Otto had attacked them there, felt strange. The scene was too fresh in her mind. Otto was dead, but she couldn't help feel unnerved by what had happened here last night. She shivered.

Luke seemed to read her mind. "Are you all right?" he asked.

She nodded. The police officer from the night before had escorted them back to the house to ask a few final questions of them at the crime scene.

Kate said to Luke, "The first thing I want to do is call an electrician to get those security cameras removed so that we can start to put all of this behind us."

The police officer looked up. "Security cameras?" he asked.

"The CIA installed security cameras at the front and rear doors," she said.

"Ms. Bennett," the officer said, "we looked for cameras on the premises last night, hoping to find video footage to confirm when and how Otto entered your residence, but we found none." He frowned. "Now that you mention it, I did notice that on your front and back porch, there are camera mounting plates installed. But no cameras. I had forgotten to ask you about that last night at the hospital."

Luke said, "Otto probably disabled the cameras before he entered the bungalow."

Kate was puzzled. "Where are the devices now, though? If Otto had gone to the trouble of not only disengaging but also removing the cameras, then shouldn't they be here on the premises somewhere?"

Luke said, "Unless somebody else was here last night, too."

"Who?" the officer asked.

Kate explained. "Let's assume that Marshall and his team were successful in leading Otto to Chicago to trap him here. My guess is that last night Marshall either saw Otto on the bungalow's security camera feed, or Otto disabled the cameras, which tipped off Marshall and his team that the assassin was here."

Luke asked, "But why wouldn't Marshall and his team have subdued Otto before we arrived?

"Either we got here first and disrupted their operation,.."

Luke finished the sentence for her. "Or they intended to allow Otto to take you out first, and then they planned on eliminating Otto."

"Marshall would have had enough time to recover the cameras before the police arrived."

"We'll keep a security detail here to watch over you for a few days, Ms. Bennett," the officer suggested.

She shook her head. "Once you're done here, I'll lock up the place. I won't be returning here for a long time."

"Where are you going?" the officer asked.

"Back to Europe, eventually. In the meantime, I'll be in Washington, awaiting the end of the war."

The police officer nodded. "Let's wrap it up, guys," he said to his team. To Kate, he said, "Take care of that shoulder, Ms. Bennett."

# Chapter 89

Sitting at the kitchen table, Luke said, "Now that Otto's dead, you could stay here for a while, you know. You don't have to run anymore."

She shook her head. "Someday I'll gladly return to this old house. But right now I need to get back to work on securing money for Trepca."

"I wish I didn't have to be back in Sarajevo in three days. I wish I could go with you to Washington."

"We'll see each other again soon," she said.

"Will you stay with Bill while you're in Washington?" he asked.

She looked at him curiously. "I hadn't thought about it," she admitted. "Probably not. I've put him through enough."

He clasped her hands. "I'll miss you."

"As soon as the war is over, we'll be together again. That's two great things to look forward to: the end of the madness of war, and also our reunion."

They stopped on her front steps. "Are you sure you're okay here, with everything that's happened?" he asked.

"I'll be gone tomorrow," she said. "I just want to pack up a few things and seal up the house, and then I'll be on my way, too."

"Okay," he said. "Look me up with you get to Kosovo."

"You can count on it," she said, smiling. She watched him descend the steps and exit the gate. He turned back to look at her, and gave her a final wave before flagging down a taxi to the airport.

She stood there for an extra moment, thinking about all of the things she liked about Luke Davis. The end of the war couldn't come soon enough.

# Chapter 90

Back in the study Kate gathered her Trepca notes and a photo of her father. Her heart ached when she thought about how much she missed her dad. She stood in awe, considering how much her life had radically changed over the course of only a few months.

She stood at the desk, pausing a moment to think. What if she went to Washington and was unsuccessful shoring up money to mine Trepca? What would she do then? She wanted so badly for this project to work out, and now, alone in the study, she permitted herself to consider that the success of the Trepca mines was a long shot.

A familiar feeling rose from the pit of her stomach, the same feeling she felt the first day of kindergarten, and the first day of college, and the first day at the State Department, the feeling of not knowing how things will turn out, and not knowing if she had the courage to withstand whatever would happen.

The feeling was intense but also brief. It was a moment of weakness, before she came to realize that she was just as capable as every other kindergartner and every other freshman in college and every other new employee to make things work. She would figure out a way to make Trepca work, too, she resolved.

She needed to run, to clear her head. She changed into running gear and sprinted across the street into Lincoln Park. Her breathing became more relaxed and rhythmic as her limbs lengthened, and she let her body go. She felt as if she were almost flying through Lincoln Park, past the zoo and the arboretum and out toward the rocky shores of Lake Michigan. The air was crisp and cool. Although the sun shone dimly through a hazy sky, everything appeared clear to her.

She ran towards a patch of mature trees, a place that had always brought her great pain in the past. Without meaning to do it, she stopped running and stood there, off the running path, peering through the leaves of the trees bristling in the gentle wind. She walked closer to the spot.

In the past she had only done this once, and the gesture had frightened her so badly that as quickly as she had entered the ring of trees, she had backed out and run away just as fast. Today, all of her feelings of fear were replaced with a sense that for way too long, nothing was what it had seemed. It was at this place where for so many years she believed the young woman in the picture- the woman she always thought of as her mother- had died.

It was difficult for her to consider Dr. Randall as the woman in the old photos. In her mind, and all throughout childhood, her mother was gone forever. For a brief moment Kate felt angry, betrayed by the lie that her mother had indeed been alive all of these years. She understood fully the logic of Dr. Randall's decision to leave, to protect Kate and her father. But what if there had been some other way to make it work, so that Kate and her mother and her father could have somehow remained together?

She sat down on a rock, at the edge of the trees. The wind blew gently, chilling her. She reminded herself that there were an infinite number of ways the story of their lives might have been told, and that there was no point to wishing things had turned out differently. There was nothing left but right now, and what was to come. She inhaled deeply, feeling for the first time at peace with this place, a space that before had brought her only fear and sadness and longing.

"What are you doing here?" a voice asked gruffly, breathlessly, interrupting the silence.

She stood up and turned towards the man, incredulous that it could be him. He was winded. With this encounter she felt no trepidation, only annoyance that the moment had been interrupted by his presence.

"What could you possibly still want from me?" Kate asked.

# Chapter 91

"I asked you what you were doing here. Shouldn't you be putting plans in order for the great excavation of the Trepca Mines?" Marshall asked.

She slumped back down on a rock. She didn't care anymore that he seemed to know everything about her business. She just wanted to be left alone. "Why do you care?" she asked, suddenly tired.

Marshall was irritated. "Secretary Anderson phoned me after your meeting with her on Tuesday."

"Why?"

"Your little announcement about Operation Horseshoe convinced the Secretary that you were too great a political liability to keep around. She ordered me to have you silenced. But I wasn't about to do that."

"Why not?" she asked wearily.

"The Secretary said you had requested the meeting with her to gain government approval to explore the Trepca mines postwar. Coincidentally, I had been working on a plan back at the Agency to co-opt an American company to do the exact same thing. I convinced Secretary Anderson that you were an asset, and that you would keep your promise to stay silent about Operation Horseshoe. You would become our great American entrepreneur to spearhead this endeavor.

"We installed security cameras and listening devices in your home to protect you from Otto, in the event he did choose to come after you. We watched Otto enter your home, and then we sprang into action. Unfortunately, you and Captain Davis returned to the house at the most inopportune moment. We were on your doorstep when you fired the final shot that killed Otto. We could see that you and Captain Davis were fine, so we took the security cameras and called 911."

"Why did you track me down here to tell me all of this?" she asked. "Why don't you just leave me alone?"

"You are alive, Kate, and Otto is dead, and nothing is standing in your way of making plans to excavate Trepca. What are you doing out here for a jog, when you have work to do?"

Kate looked at Marshall. "Look around you, Mr. Marshall. Does this place look familiar to you?"

Marshall frowned. He sat down on the large boulder next to hers. "Of course it does. It hasn't changed at all in twenty years, except the trees are taller, fuller."

"I used to hate this spot. I used to think that it represented pure evil. Now I realize it never really meant anything, because it was all a deception."

"There was no other way, Kate. It had to be this way, to protect you and Alex Bennett," he said matter-of-factly.

Kate thought a moment. She asked, "How did the KGB find Dr. Randall here in Chicago in the first place?"

He said, "When Eleanor was stationed in Yugoslavia, she was staunchly opposed to grooming Milosevic for a position of power. She was vocal in her belief that Milosevic was a megalomaniac. The CIA saw this personality defect as an asset to be exploited. When Eleanor refused to work with Milosevic, the Agency sent Eleanor back to Chicago, and I was sent to Belgrade to serve as Eleanor's replacement.

"Milosevic had just returned to Belgrade after having finished his studies at the University of Sarajevo. In Belgrade, instead of pretending to be Soviet, the plan was for me to come clean with Milosevic about who I was. I promised Milosevic unlimited funds if he would work with the CIA to overthrow Tito.

"I was desperate to win Milosevic. I tried to gain his trust by telling him a little more of the truth: that Eleanor was CIA, that she didn't recommend Milosevic as a candidate, and that I was there in Eleanor's place because I had full faith in his leadership. I promised Milosevic I would get him the money he needed to make his political future a reality. I told him everything he wanted to hear.

"I thought everything was working out well, but I never realized how angry Milosevic was about having been duped by Eleanor. Unbeknownst to us at the time, Milosevic told the Soviets about Eleanor, and also about me. Milosevic pretended to be committed to our mission, and he had gotten about three million dollars from the Agency before the KGB made its first attempt on my life.

"I had no idea that the assassination attempt was coming my way. I was badly wounded but survived. The Agency smuggled me out of Belgrade and severed all ties with Milosevic, who had proven to us once and for all that he could not be trusted. Eleanor had been right about him the whole time.

"My wounds rendered me unfit for field duty, so I was assigned station chief of the Chicago office. I worked for about half a year in Chicago as Eleanor's boss. The assignment was easy, until that horrible day when she called asking for my help in disposing the body of the Soviet assassin who had come to kill her.

"It was my suggestion to Eleanor that we fake her death in order to protect you and Alex. At first she vehemently resisted the idea of living a life without you, but she knew that I was right. The Soviets had found her in Chicago, and we knew that they would stop at nothing until she was killed. So we fabricated the murder scene, and the ruse worked. Our intelligence traffic revealed the KGB really did believe Eleanor was dead. With her out of the picture, you and Alex Bennett were no longer of interest to the KGB.

"A few months later Eleanor confided in me that she believed it had been Milosevic who had sold her out to the Soviets, but that she did not know how he could have found out that she was CIA. She said only Marko Tomic knew the truth, and that she had plans to return to Yugoslavia to confront Tomic about this. I never had the courage to speak up and admit that it was my fault."

Kate said nothing.

"You can- and should- blame me, Kate, for losing your mother when you were a child. The KGB came after her because of my misstep with Milosevic. The only regret that I have in all of the things that I've done in my career is how my actions ripped apart your family."

Kate said nothing. She wished Tom Marshall would just go away, to give her time to herself to think.

Marshall continued, "What you choose to do will have a profound impact on more than just yourself. There's no time to waste, Kate. You have the means and the ambition to make Trepca happen, so stop thinking about it, and go do it."

He had pushed her too far. She stood up. "I don't work for you, Marshall. You see me only as a pawn, a cog in your machine to increase American influence and wealth. Please leave me alone."

"You have to do this," he asserted. "Not only for you, to keep moving forward. But for everybody. This is a great thing."

Regaining control, she admitted softly, "I have the ambition, but I don't have the means."

His brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I'm headed back to Washington to raise money for the project," she said.

Marshall frowned. "What about your inheritance?"

"Selling my dad's half of his company to his partner isn't going to be enough. And I'm guessing the CIA's survivor benefits don't add up to the tune of a few million dollars. I will find another way."

"What about the Croatian money?" he asked.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said.

Marshall scratched his head. "Alice led me to believe that the financing for your project was in place. I assumed you already had the Croatian money in your possession, and that you were ready to work out the logistics of your operation. You're not as far ahead in this process as I had thought."

"Forget my progress. What does Croatia have to do with anything?"

He looked at her. "I thought you knew."

"Knew what?"

"You are entitled to an inheritance that will more than adequately cover your project expenses."

"I still don't understand."

"The esteemed Croatian poet, Marko Tomic, is your biological father, Kate. His estate is worth millions, and it's all yours."

# Chapter 92

She shook her head. Marshall was manipulating her, lying to her. All of her life people had told her that she resembled Alex Bennett so closely. What was Marshall's motive?

"You're mistaken, Mr. Marshall," she said simply.

Marshall shook his head. "Marko Tomic was your biological father. When Eleanor told the CIA she was pregnant, they ordered her back to the United States immediately. They gave her two options: to either have an abortion, or to get married quickly.

"She wasn't about to give you up. Eleanor returned to Chicago and reunited with Alex Bennett, an old childhood friend. She told Alex she was CIA, and that the organization was pressuring her to get married and build a cover as an international banking businesswoman. She trusted Alex, and after giving it a few days of thought, he agreed to the arrangement. You were born eight months after Alex and Eleanor were married. Everybody chalked up your early arrival to a premature birth."

"Did my dad, er, Alex, know that he wasn't my biological father?" Kate asked.

"No. Eleanor didn't want to take the chance that he might not agree to marry her if he knew she was pregnant. I was one of three people in the CIA who knew the truth. She knew Alex would be a great dad. She described him to me as patient, intelligent and kind."

Kate stared at Marshall in disbelief. She felt nauseated.

"The Tomic estate is worth millions, and there is nobody but you to claim it. Tomic had no other children and no other immediate surviving family members. It's all yours, Kate."

Kate looked around. Here she was at the circle of trees, which for so many years was a place of pain, the location associated with her mother's murder. She thought bitterly how this spot now represented a web of deceit. She wanted to run away from this here and away from Marshall for good.

"Alex Bennett loved you, Kate. It wouldn't have mattered to him whether you shared his DNA or not; you were his daughter through and through. Don't second guess you father's love because of your biology."

She looked at Marshall, wondering how somebody like him, who could craft and maintain lies so easily, would dare to speak as if he were an authority on human relationships, much less a relationship as important as the one she and Alex Bennett shared.

Marshall interrupted her thoughts. "The only thing that matters now is that you keep your eye on the prize. You've always had the ambition, and now, with Tomic's inheritance, you have the means. Go to Dubrovnik and speak with the U.S. consul there. The consul can coordinate a meeting for you with the executor of Tomic's estate."

Kate said quietly, "It's so simple for you, Mr. Marshall, isn't it? It's not that way for everybody else, you know."

"That's not true, Kate," Marshall said. "Life is ridiculously complicated. You just have to stay focused and keep moving forward. Mining Trepca is of great national importance. You must make Trepca work, Kate. For all of us. Don't let this war have been a waste."

"A waste?" she spat. "The war doesn't matter to you at all, does it? Facilitating a grave humanitarian crisis and decimating an infrastructure to advance our interests is acceptable to you, isn't it?"

Marshall looked angry. "Yes, if it means we improve things in Kosovo in the long term. Don't lecture me on politics, Kate. Your mother wanted the war in Kosovo to seek revenge on Milosevic, but I wanted the war to give the United States a much-needed political and economic boost in Europe. Which aim is more valiant?"

Kate stood up, her eyes meeting Marshall's. "Which aim is more 'valiant?' The answer is 'neither."

He continued, "Trepca is a good thing, Kate. Be part of something important, something meaningful. If you believe the war effort was wrong, then help to make the outcome right."

"I won't be manipulated, Mr. Marshall," she said, as she turned away from him, starting the walk back home.

He yelled after her, "Don't be a fool, Ms. Bennett. Go to Dubrovnik. Do the right thing, for all of us."

# Chapter 93

She wasn't used to people telling her what to do, and she certainly wasn't willing to be manipulated by a professional liar. But part of her knew that Marshall was right, that this funding opportunity had presented itself at the exact moment when she needed it, and maybe there was something to that.

Another voice in her head reminded her that claiming the Tomic fortune meant betrayal of her dad, Alex Bennett, the person with whom she was closest.

Marshall had suggested her project was for the good of Kosovo's future. She genuinely believed that, and she thought Marshall did, too, but was she just as bad as the rest of them, allowing the end to justify the means?

She wished her dad or Bill or Luke were here, a trusted resource to either encourage her to pursue this solution, or to advise her against this course of action. She was on her own, the decision solely hers to make.

# Chapter 94

She smoothed her dress slacks and, at the advice of Josip Stolar's receptionist, took a seat in the waiting room. She was here in Dubrovnik, still unsure about whether claiming Tomic's inheritance was the right thing to do. The alternative was to go to Washington and fish for leads that were unlikely to be profitable, so she convinced herself that flying to Croatia seemed like the better option.

A part of her still felt that by being here in Dubrovnik, she was betraying the man who had raised her. Other doubts ran through her head as she sat in the anteroom of the attorney's office, too. Perhaps she was no better than Secretary Anderson, justifying the means by the end. Her "end" was Trepca, and whatever it took to get back to Kosovo to start the operation was all that mattered right now.

Claiming Tomic's estate was her decision alone, a choice she had made that she would have to either accept or feel ashamed about the rest of her days. She wasn't accustomed to feeling ashamed, so she decided in Stolar's anteroom that she would find the courage to shoulder the burden of her decision.

She looked around the waiting room. Her eyes danced over framed accolades on the wall and a plant with pink flowering buds on the receptionist's desk. Kate's gaze met the receptionist's, a young woman with bright eyes who quickly looked back down at her paperwork after having been caught stealing a glimpse at Kate.

A thin woman in her forties with platinum hair and steel blue eyes entered the reception area from the back office area. She carried a tray in her hand, a pasted smile on her face. In English she said, "tea, please," pouring Kate a small porcelain cup of tea from the tray.

"Hvala," Kate offered, a simple word of thanks in Croatian. Kate noticed the receptionist watching the transaction. Was she nervous, Kate wondered? Perhaps it was the receptionist's place to offer tea, and she had been caught by the older woman neglecting a social grace?

The platinum haired woman retreated to back offices through a hallway, and the receptionist seemed to be only pretending to work. Five minutes passed, and then another five minutes passed. Kate wondered what was keeping Josip Stolar.

A warm feeling began to creep over her body. She felt dizzy and a bit nauseous. Was she coming down with the flu, she wondered?

"Are you all right?" the worried receptionist asked in Croatian, the last words Kate heard in her ringing ears before she passed out.

# Chapter 95

She opened her eyes and noticed first that her head was throbbing, as if she were experiencing a terrible hangover.

The second thing she noticed was that she was lying on a plush white couch. It was only when she tried to move her hands to massage her throbbing temples that she realized her wrists were bound.

She looked around. Windows flanked one entire wall of the room, the sunlight streaming in. The walls were white, interrupted by colorful bright art. Books and delicate pottery adorned a few pieces of dark wooden furniture across from the couch where she lay. She thought about what a stark contrast this room was to the dark, dank basement of the desolate farmhouse in Kosovo, the last place she found herself bound. She must be in one of the back offices of Josip Stolar's office, she reasoned.

"Good, you're awake," the platinum haired woman with the cold blue eyes announced in flawless English, approaching Kate on the couch.

"Who are you?" Kate asked groggily.

"Don't worry, Ms. Bennett. We don't intend to hurt you."

"How do you know my name?" Kate asked.

The woman perched herself on an ottoman near the couch. "Josip Stolar contacted us shortly after he heard word from the U.S. consul that a young American woman planned to claim the Tomic fortune. Mr. Stolar asked us to do a background check on you."

"For whom do you work?"

"The HIS," the platinum haired woman replied. Kate knew the HIS: it was Croatia's intelligence agency.

"If you have doubts about my relationship to Marko Tomic, why didn't you simply ask for a blood test?" Kate asked.

"We drew a vial of your blood about an hour ago," the woman said. Kate spied the bandage and gauze on her left arm.

"I would have complied, if you had simply asked," Kate said. "May I leave now, please?"

"Not yet, but soon," the woman said, untying Kate's arms. The woman helped Kate sit up.

"Where are we?" Kate asked.

"This is Marko Tomic's mansion," the woman said.

A man entered the living room with a plate of cheese and crackers and an unopened can of Coke. He placed the food and drink on the coffee table next to Kate.

"How do I know you're not planning on poisoning me again?" Kate asked.

"The tea contained a mild sedative so that we could transport you here to test your blood and ask you some questions. This food and drink will make you feel better," the woman said.

Kate opened the can of Coke. "I would have answered your questions willingly," she said. "You didn't have to poison me."

The woman tilted her head and looked closely at Kate. "Perhaps," she said. "Now for the questions. First, what was your mother's relationship to Marko Tomic?"

"She lived with him here, in this villa, for many years. They met at the University of Sarajevo in the seventies."

The woman showed Kate a picture of Dr. Randall with a man. "Is this your mother?" the woman asked.

"Yes," Kate said. "Is the man Marko Tomic?"

The woman nodded. "Why are you coming forward now to claim Mr. Tomic's estate?" she asked.

"I found out only recently that Tomic was my biological father."

"Did your mother tell you?"

"No," Kate said. "My mother is dead."

"Are you certain?" The woman leaned forward. She seemed very interested in this news about Dr. Randall.

"She was killed in Kosovo in January," Kate said.

"What was she doing in Kosovo?"

"She was a government worker."

The woman scoffed, "A government worker? Don't you mean CIA?"

Kate shrugged her shoulders. "She was killed by a CIA assassin in Kosovo. I saw it before my very own eyes. Why the acute interest in my mother, anyway?"

The woman said, "We've been looking for her. She mysteriously disappeared after Tomic was found shot at this villa."

"Why are you looking for her?" asked Kate.

"She is the key suspect in the murder of Marko Tomic," the woman said.

Kate shook her head. "She didn't kill Tomic. Before she died, she told me she thought Milosevic had ordered the hit on Tomic."

"Why would Milosevic want Tomic dead?" the woman asked.

"My mother said Tomic had gone to Belgrade to try to broker a peace deal with Milosevic. She ascertained that Milosevic had no choice but to murder Tomic, rather than make it look to his Serb cronies as if he were collaborating with a Croat."

The woman shook her head. "Milosevic agreed to Tomic's deal. Why would he agree to the deal, and then have him killed?"

"How do you know Milosevic and Tomic agreed to end the war together?" Kate asked incredulously.

"We inserted one of our agents into Milosevic's inner circle six months before Tomic met with Milosevic. After the reunion, Milosevic revealed to his trusted advisors that he was considering forging a partnership with Tomic to end the war in Bosnia. He told his confidants that with Tomic's help, he would remain in power in Belgrade for many decades to come, just like Tito.

"Milosevic needed Tomic, Ms. Bennett. He didn't kill him."

# Chapter 96

"Who did, then?" Kate asked.

"Our best guess is that it was your mother and her comrades in the CIA. Our theory is that the CIA was irate when they discovered Milosevic was planning on partnering with Tomic to end the war, as this partnership would have undone the international community's plans to segment Bosnia into three ethnic enclaves. We think the CIA ordered the hit on Tomic, the one man with enough influence to rally the Croats into partnering with the Serbs to end the Bosnian conflict."

Kate shook her head. "My mother firmly believed Milosevic was behind Tomic's assassination. She said she and Tomic had been out for a walk, and when they returned to the villa, they were fired upon. She said she fell off the path and down the cliff, and she was rescued by CIA cronies who came looking for her as soon as they had heard that Tomic had been assassinated. She revered Marko Tomic, and she hated Milosevic for killing him."

Kate's heart was beating fast. The platinum haired woman made a good point about how the CIA would have been eager to stop Milosevic and Tomic from reuniting Yugoslavia. She knew Dr. Randall had loved Tomic and could not have played a part in the assassination, but Kate didn't put it past the CIA to have had something to do with Tomic's death.

"I have to go," Kate said suddenly.

"What's the hurry?" the woman asked curiously.

"I need to figure a few things out," she said.

"We'll have your blood results later today," the woman said. "If your DNA is a match to Marko Tomic's, I will send word to Josip to proceed with the inheritance paperwork, but only on one condition."

"What is it?" Kate asked.

"Bring us proof that your mother had nothing to do with the assassination."

"And if I can't?" Kate asked. "You admitted you've been looking for my mother ever since Tomic was killed. If Croatian intelligence has been unable to track her down all of these years, how do you expect me to prove to you that your number one murder suspect did not commit this crime?"

"Figure out a way, or you don't get your precious inheritance," the woman said. "Marko Tomic's bounty will not be bequeathed to the daughter of a murderer."

# Chapter 97

Kate looked out the window of the Hotel Dubrovnik, down at the people traversing the cobblestone street. The phone had rung eight times, without answer. With the receiver still to her ear, Kate examined the phone number scrawled on the piece of paper, wondering if perhaps she had dialed the number incorrectly. Just as she was about to hang up, a woman answered.

"Tom Marshall, please," said Kate.

"May I ask who's calling, please?" the cheerful voice asked.

"Kate Bennett."

"Thank you, Ms. Bennett. One moment, please."

Kate looked back out the window again to pass the time while she waited. The people she watched below her on the street all appeared purposeful. She wondered where they were going.

"Kate, hello," Marshall said. "What can I do for you?"

"Who killed Marko Tomic?" Kate asked.

"Whoa, hold on a second. What's going on?"

"Who killed Marko Tomic, Mr. Marshall? I need to know," she said.

"We can't discuss this over the phone. Let's meet."

"I don't have time to wait for you, Mr. Marshall. I need answers now."

"I could meet you within the hour."

"You're here in Dubrovnik?" she asked. "For what purpose?"

"It's not important. I'll meet you in the hotel restaurant in thirty minutes, at fourteen hundred hours."

She heard the click of the disconnected line and replaced the receiver in the telephone cradle. She sat down on her bed for a moment to think.

Marshall had not asked her the name of the hotel in which she was staying, yet he planned to meet her in the lobby in thirty minutes. How did he know where she was staying?

She exhaled deeply and lay down on her bed, her legs dangling off the side. A sense of privacy was a luxury of her past, she realized.

# Chapter 98

He entered the restaurant promptly at two o'clock, bypassing the maître d'.

"So nice to see you again, Ms. Bennett," he said, unsmiling, offering her a peck on the cheek before settling down in the seat across the table from her.

Kate took a sip of her sparkling water. "A Croatian intelligence officer drugged me this morning while I was waiting to see Josip Stolar. They took me to Marko Tomic's villa, drew my blood for a DNA test while I was unconscious, and then they notified me that my mother was their number one murder suspect in the Tomic murder case."

"What did you tell them?" he asked.

"I told them my mother didn't kill Tomic, and that she thought Milosevic was behind the murder. They said that was unlikely, as Milosevic had agreed to Tomic's peace agreement, much to the disappointment of the CIA. They said they believed the CIA was behind Tomic's murder."

Marshall scoffed, "That's baloney, Kate."

Kate's eyes narrowed. "Until the Croatian intelligence agency is able to solve the mystery of who killed their beloved poet laureate, they're holding Tomic's estate in escrow."

"What do you mean?" Marshall asked.

"Until I provide them with proof that my mother did not murder Tomic, his estate goes untouched."

"They can't do that," said Marshall flatly.

"They drugged me to obtain a blood sample," she said. "If they're willing to do that, I don't see why they wouldn't extend themselves beyond the law to hold up an inheritance issue until they get what they want."

Marshall sighed.

"This lawlessness," Kate said, "is your business, isn't it, Mr. Marshall? Citizens hold onto the illusion that there is order, but those in control act without regard for rules. Inheritances gain contingencies, and people are murdered when they pose a threat to somebody's master plan."

Marshall said nothing.

Kate continued, "The only problem with the way you operate, Mr. Marshall, is that it works against you when you want something, and you're not in a position to get it."

Marshall was silent for a moment, and then said, "If I want your mining operations to commence, then you need me to provide the proof that Eleanor didn't kill Tomic. It looks like we're partners."

"We're not partners, Mr. Marshall," Kate said. "I'm simply the go-between in this situation. I will deliver your evidence to the Croatians as soon as you are able to produce it."

"Very well," he said, standing. "I'll need a few days to pull things together. I'll bring you the evidence at eight o'clock on Monday morning. We'll meet back here again. Adieu, Ms. Bennett," he said, unsmiling, with a wave of his hand.

# Chapter 99

Back in her hotel room, she turned on CNN. The President was on television, conducting a live press briefing. He cleared his throat and began to speak. "The NATO air campaign is producing the results we seek. Many weeks ago Slobodan Milosevic unleashed his army on the people of Kosovo. NATO refused to sit by and watch Milosevic's ruthless ethnic cleansing, a brutal campaign that drove almost a million people from their homes.

"Thanks to General John Willis and all of the men and women who are working around the clock to restore order in Kosovo, democracy will prevail, because freedom is the future of Kosovo." The President paused to wipe his brow. "I will now entertain a handful of questions."

She listened to the journalists' questions, and the formless rhetoric that addressed nothing. Nobody questioned the President's premise that the air campaign was a reaction to an ethnic cleansing campaign orchestrated by Milosevic. No one challenged the President on the destabilizing effect of the bombing campaign. The number of people killed by Serb police forces a year leading up to the air campaign was miniscule compared to the number of people killed during the NATO operation. Nobody thought to ask the President about that.

# Chapter 100

Eight o'clock on Monday morning finally arrived. Kate had spent the last few days touring Dubrovnik, acting as if she were a casual visitor enjoying the historic sites and remarkable cafes of a walled medieval city in early June.

She saw Tom Marshall through the glass doors of the restaurant. He sat at a table reading- or perhaps pretending to read- a Croatian newspaper as he sipped his tea.

He stood as she approached. "Good morning, Ms. Bennett." He handed her a manila envelope. "Here is the information you requested."

"May I open it now?" she asked.

He nodded. She sat down at the table and unclasped the envelope. She pulled out a photograph and a small videotape.

"What is this?" she asked.

"This first item is a photograph of the Tomic crime scene, courtesy of Croatian intelligence."

"Where did you get this?"

"Does it matter?" he said, smiling.

"How is a photograph the HIS already has in its possession helpful?"

"Look at the photo, Kate. It's easy to see by the way Tomic's body lay crumpled on the path from the beach that his assassin was on higher ground than he was. This is consistent with Eleanor's story that Marko's limp body hit hers, and she was knocked off the cliff."

"Ok, so what? This picture illustrates that the assassin was up high, on this part of the cliff, but it doesn't exonerate Eleanor."

"No, but the villa's security footage does, which is the videotape you have in your hand. HIS does not already have this." Marshall paused to sip his tea. Whispering, he said, "On the videotape, Marko and Eleanor are seen leaving the villa at 8:12 a.m. A camera out front catches the couple walking back up the beach trail at 9:52. At 9:55 the camera catches Marko's body ricocheting into Eleanor's, and then Eleanor falls off the cliff."

"Why doesn't HIS have a copy of this security footage?" Kate asked.

Marshall sighed. "A few of our agents arrived at the villa shortly after Tomic's death to look for Eleanor. One of our agents confiscated the tape to avoid compromising the identities of our agents."

Kate nodded. "This tape, then, should prove to the Croatians that Eleanor was innocent."

"Good," Marshall said, standing. He left twenty Croatian _kunas_ on the table to cover the cost of his tea.

"Mr. Marshall," Kate said. "I have just one more question."

"What is it, Ms. Bennett?" Marshall asked.

"Who killed Marko Tomic?" Kate asked.

Marshall paused for a moment. "We think he was a radical Croatian nationalist."

She sensed Marshall was lying. He was a career liar, she thought. If the CIA killed Tomic, Marshall was not about to let on to this.

"Thank you, Mr. Marshall."

"No problem," he said. She watched him leave the restaurant. For a moment she considered following him, to see where he would go. But she remained seated, realizing that along with being a serial liar, he was probably an expert at going unseen.

# Chapter 101

The taxi dropped her off in the circle driveway of the Tomic villa. As she paid the cab fare, the platinum haired woman opened the solid oak door to meet Kate on the stone porch.

"I was wondering when you would return," the woman said, a smile on her face. "My name is Salena, by the way. I'm glad you chose to assist us in this investigation."

"What choice did I have?" Kate asked. "I only get what I want when you get what you want."

"That's true," Salena said. "But Marko Tomic's murder has been a cold case for too long. When you showed up in Dubrovnik claiming to be Tomic's daughter, we felt hope for the first time in a while that we might be able to find the killer. You have to understand that we've been desperate to close this case. We couldn't afford another dead end."

"I don't know that I can help you find the killer," Kate said, "but I do have evidence that crosses off my mother from your list of suspects."

"What do you have?" Salena asked.

"A crime scene photograph and the villa security camera footage from the day Tomic was murdered," Kate said.

"Where did you get these items?" Salena asked.

"From my mother's supervisor at the CIA, a man who goes by the name Tom Marshall."

"Why did he agree to help you?" Salena asked, ushering Kate into the atrium of the villa.

"His interests and mine align," Kate said. "I don't agree with his practices or methods, but it seems nowadays that the only way to get things done is to make a deal."

"That's the way it works, Ms. Bennett. The sooner you accept this, the easier it is to take care of business. Now let's have a look at your evidence," Salena suggested, guiding Kate to a large dark wooden table flanked by two benches near the wall of glass windows.

"Would you like something to drink?" Salena asked.

"No, thanks," Kate said.

Salena poured herself a glass of water from a carafe on the table while Kate peered out the windows. She noticed the sparkling blue-green Adriatic Sea dancing in the sunlight straight below the villa, the foamy waves lapping the craggy shore. This was a remarkable home, Kate thought, with a stunning view.

Kate pulled the photograph out of the manila envelope.

"How did Marshall get this?" Salena asked, sitting next to Kate on the bench.

"I don't know," Kate said. "Does it matter?"

"This is evidence from the crime scene. This photograph is classified."

"Look, here," said Kate, "at the way Tomic's body is positioned on the gravel path. The shooter must have been up here, above the villa, behind those rocks. The sniper shot Tomic in the chest, rendering him immediately lifeless. You can tell by the way Tomic is lying on the path that the power from the bullet projected him towards the cliff, which means the shooter must have been up there."

"Perhaps," Salena said. But that doesn't rule out the possibility that your mother was the shooter on the cliff."

"My mother said Tomic's lifeless body hit hers, knocking her off the cliff. She said she hit a bunch of rocks and was rendered unconscious. This photo corroborates my mother's account of what happened. Let's play the security tape, which, according to Tom Marshall, depicts my mother and Tomic walking together up the gravel path from the beach."

"Where did you get this tape?" Salena asked.

"When the CIA heard that Tomic had been assassinated, a handful of agents came looking for my mother immediately. They found her unconscious on a large rock near the bottom of the cliff. According to Marshall, one of the agents was worried that the agents' faces had been captured on the security cameras, so that agent scaled back up to the villa to confiscate the security tapes."

"When exactly were the agents at the villa looking for your mother? The police were here for days."

"I don't know the answer to that question," said Kate, "but my guess is that they must have been here only hours after Tomic's death, and maybe before the police arrived, in order to grab the tapes before the Croatian police themselves had a chance to sequester and review them for clues to the identity of Tomic's killer."

"How could the CIA beat the police to the crime scene?" Salena asked. "Their presence here before the police suggests they had something to do with the murder."

"Marshall told me that the CIA wasn't sure who killed Tomic, but that they suspected it was a radical Croatian nationalist. Do you have anybody like that on your radar?"

Salena laughed. "We have too many people like that on our radar."

"How did the police find out about the crime?" Kate asked.

"An off-duty police officer was down on the beach fishing when he thought he saw a woman falling down the side of the cliff," Salena said. "He rushed back to his car to call in the emergency. When the police arrived, they didn't find the woman's body. The off-duty cop was a bit inebriated, so the police chalked it up to him thinking he saw a woman fall, but that it had not really happened. He swore he knew what he saw."

Salena continued, "A few cops climbed out on the rocks and found blood spatter, but no body. We weren't sure if the blood had anything to do with Marko's murder. We guessed that either your mother had fallen to her death and the waves had swept her body away, or that she was still alive. The missing woman has been our number one suspect in the Tomic murder case until today."

# Chapter 102

The women sat in silence, considering the situation. Salena suggested, "Let's watch the security tape footage. Maybe there is something on the tape that explains what happened the morning Tomic died."

Salena placed the small tape into a standard VCR receptacle so that the tape could be played through the VCR on a television in the room. The women sat on the floor, near the television, to get a good look at the tape.

Salena pressed the "play" button. For a while the screen was black with night. They fast-forwarded the tape until shortly after dawn, when they spotted not only light, but also movement.

The women watched the tape intently. "There's Tomic and your mother walking down to the beach," Salena said.

Kate saw movement on the cliff. "Up there," Kate exclaimed. "Somebody is up there, on the rocky cliffs above the villa."

Salena paused the tape. "Yes, I see it, too. There is a man up there, on the top of the cliff. But he's too far away from the camera to provide us with any clues about his identity."

"He's a large man, tall and strong," Salena observed. "This does seem to prove your mother's innocence," she added.

The camera panned to the path. Kate pointed at the screen. "Look," she said, "here comes my mother and Tomic, back up the path."

The couple was visible on the camera. Moments later, Kate and Salena watched Tomic collapse into Eleanor, knocking her off the cliff.

"This was just as my mother had explained it," Kate said.

Salena paused the tape, her face drained of color. "I don't believe I just saw Marko Tomic die," she said quietly. "I've been investigating his murder for years, but to see the moment when it happened, when he was shot..." She sat back on her arms, her eyes brimming with tears.

Salena caught Kate looking at her. "He did not deserve to die, Kate. He was a remarkable man, and his death was a tragedy for all of Croatia."

Kate was silent. While she had not known Tomic, she suspected Salena was right, and that if Tomic had been alive today, perhaps a multiethnic Bosnia would have been possible, rippling a radically different path for Kosovo's future.

She found herself wishing she could have met this great man before his untimely end. If Tomic were alive today, she was sure the war in Kosovo would never have happened.

# Chapter 103

"Let's keep watching the tape, Salena. Maybe we'll observe a clue of whom the killer is."

"Okay," she said, composing herself. She reached over to push the "play" button on the VCR.

The camera panned away from Tomic's body, and then back. "There he is!" Kate cried. "Pause the tape, Salena." The women peered closely at the screen. "It looks like he's checking Tomic's pulse," Kate said, "but we still can't see his face."

Salena hit "play" again so they could continue to look for clues. "It looks like he's speaking to somebody on a mobile phone," Salena remarked.

Just then, the camera captured the face of the killer perfectly. Salena paused the tape.

"We got him," Salena said quietly. "We have his face on film. Finally we know who killed Marko Tomic."

Kate gulped. She peered at the screen. _It couldn't be._

Salena's smile widened. "I recognize this man, Kate. I know who he is."

"I do, too," Kate said quietly.

"You know Miroslav Jenko?"

Confused, Kate looked at Salena.

"Your guy Marshall was right," Salena said. "It was indeed a radical Croatian nationalist who killed Tomic. Miroslav Jenko popped up on our radar right after Tomic's death. He was arrested in Dubrovnik on a minor charge, but before we were able to question him, he disappeared."

Kate said quietly, "He's not a Croatian nationalist, Salena, and his name is not Jenko,"

"What do you mean? How do you know this man?" Salena asked.

Kate said quietly. "He's a CIA assassin."

"I don't believe it."

"That is Jakob Otto," Kate said flatly.

"That's not possible," Salena said, shaking her head. "Jenko is a documented criminal in our database. It's Miroslav Jenko," Salena asserted.

Kate considered why Otto might have posed as Jenko. "Jenko cropped up on your radar after Tomic's death," Kate said. "Perhaps the CIA created Jenko to throw you onto the path of thinking a Croatian nationalist- rather than a CIA operative- was responsible for Tomic's death."

"But why would Marshall have given you this evidence?" Salena asked. "Marshall knows you would be able to identify Otto on the security tape."

"Marshall must have assumed I'd simply be delivering the evidence to you, and that I would not have had an opportunity to watch the video. He knew this security video footage was the evidence you needed to validate my mother's innocence, and to send you on a wild goose chase seeking the elusive Miroslav Jenko," Kate said.

"What do you mean by 'goose chase?'" Salena asked. "We will find this guy. We'll dedicate all of our intelligence and police resources to this cause, if we need to."

Kate shook her head. "Otto is dead."

"You can't be certain. The CIA has ways of making it appear as if people have died, when they haven't," Salena said.

"I shot and killed Otto."

"I don't believe it," Salena said quietly, wide-eyed. "You're not a killer."

"Otto broke into my home in Chicago. I killed him in self-defense," Kate said.

Salena's eyes widened. She said nothing.

Kate muttered, "I shot the man who independently killed both of my parents."

Salena shook her head. "Unbelievable," she muttered.

# Chapter 104

"Assuming the DNA tests come back indicating Marko Tomic is my father..."

Salena interrupted, "Your blood checks out."

_So that it was it_ , she thought. Since she left Chicago she had been wrestling with the news of Alex Bennett not being her father, but until now it was all conjecture. She felt her stomach drop.

It was done. She thought wistfully about how everything she thought about herself, and about her family, had changed in the course of only a few months.

"Go see Josip Stolar," Salena offered. "You've earned your inheritance. I'll call you a taxi." Salena used the phone in the atrium and then waited with Kate on the front porch.

A smile crept across Kate's face. She asked, "Shouldn't I be the one bidding you adieu at the door? I mean, this villa does belong to me now, you know."

Salena grinned "We'll vacate the premises shortly so that you can get settled in. Here are the keys to the front door."

"Thank you," Kate said, wrapping her fist around three small metal keys. She ran the pad of her thumb across the angled metal of one of the keys, thinking about how the key represented her newfound wealth.

Salena asked, "What will you do, Ms. Bennett, now that you are a billionaire?"

"I'm headed to Kosovo, as soon as the war ends," Kate said.

Salena laughed. "Well, when you're ready for something other than chaos, the villa will be here for you."

"I'll keep that in mind," she said, shaking Salena's hand as the taxi approached the drive.

# Chapter 105

She ran a finger down the side of the glass, noticing the lack of condensation. She smiled, thinking that she seemed to be acclimating well to Europe, for she no longer minded tepid beer.

She had visited Josip Stolar a few days prior. During their meeting he had provided draft paperwork for her review, and she had signed Stolar's documents on the spot. Stolar expected access to the Tomic fortune would be hers within the week.

She stared for a moment at her glass, considering the events that had changed her life so dramatically over the last six months. When she thought of her dad, Alex Bennett, her heart still ached. She pushed the pain out of her mind, reminding herself that soon she would be embarking upon a tremendous endeavor, a pursuit that would have been unthinkable had she not been the daughter of a miner. She reminded herself that if she ran operations properly, Trepca could be the economic boon Kosovo desperately needed, and this was all that mattered.

She tried to keep thoughts of Otto, Dr. Randall, the Racak massacre and Operation Horseshoe out of her mind, but admittedly the deceit and the violence bothered her still. At times she found herself wondering if she had not done enough to stop the CIA's misinformation campaign leading up to start of NATO's air campaign. She knew these thoughts were poisonous, and that in order to move on, she would have to put this part of the past behind her.

When these ideas plagued her, she forced herself to think of Luke. She could hardly wait for their reunion. Being around him made her feel strong, as if anything were possible. She wished for a moment he could be here with her in Dubrovnik while she waited out the end of the war.

She glanced at the television screen above the bar. The Serbo-Croatian headline was bold and simple: "NATO bombs Belgrade."

Her heartbeat quickened. She looked around the bar, but nobody seemed to notice the television screen. Perhaps they had not realized that NATO was moving its efforts out of Kosovo and into Belgrade? Or perhaps for these Croatians, years of watching war and destruction happening all around them gave them the sense that any madness was possible, and that there was nothing at all strange or severe about bombs falling on the capital of the Former Republic of Yugoslavia.

She sat up straight, realizing this new development could mean the end of the war was near. Certainly Milosevic's supporters would hasten to demand an end to the Kosovo conflict before NATO had a chance to destroy their own treasured city. Milosevic's constituency might be fine with the decimation of Kosovo, she surmised, but they wouldn't be so keen on having their homes bombed.

She paid her bill and walked up the cobblestone street back to the Hotel Dubrovnik. As soon as Stolar's paperwork was complete and Milosevic had signed a truce with NATO, she'd be driving across the Croatian and Montenegrin borders into Kosovo. She felt butterflies in her stomach as she contemplated the notion that the war might end soon.

# Chapter 106

She took in the moment, appreciating how well the Fiat performed through the Montenegrin mountains. The little car managed the steep curves well, shifting effortlessly up and down with changes in altitude. It was a sunny June day. For a moment she pretended that she was on vacation, exploring a beautiful new country.

She wished that Luke were here with her now, so that she'd have this experience to share with another person. She wondered if he and his International Red Cross team was already in Kosovo. If they weren't there yet, she thought, they would be there quite soon.

The day prior Kate watched Milosevic sign NATO's Military Technical Agreement on CNN. The Agreement dictated the terms of Serb withdrawal from the province of Kosovo. As Milosevic signed away Kosovo, Kate thought about how that defining moment- Milosevic's pen and ink to NATO paper- was what her mother had sought ever since Tomic had been killed. Posthumously, Dr. Randall's wish had come true.

It wasn't until an hour later, as the mountains winded down into rolling hills, that Kate was reminded of what she was about to do. She had been looking for signs indicating a pass from Montenegro into Kosovo, but she had seen none. She knew she would be nearing the border as the mountains tapered, but there was not even the slightest announcement of Kosovo ahead.

She peered ahead and spotted a sign. She slowed to look at the large wooden board, adorned with thick Serbo-Croatian letters painted neatly in black paint.

She had expected the sign to provide direction, but instead it carried a warning. It read: "War zone: enter at your own risk." Who had bothered to construct the sign at this deserted location? And whom was the messenger warning?

She could see a town in the distance, which she surmised was Pec. Until stumbling upon the warning sign, she admitted to herself that she had failed to fully consider what it would be like to work in a place torn apart first by ethnic unrest and then by bombs. She hoped NATO had a plan to implement security soon.

# Chapter 107

She drove on, toward Pec, permitting herself only a moment to accept that driving back to Pristina on her own might not have been the best plan. She pushed out of her mind the prospect of land mines, of what desperate people might do to an unaccompanied American woman in an operable vehicle, or of the possibility that, at some point, a prewar road might not exist any longer.

Farmhouses dotted the flat, dry landscape. She rolled down her window to experience the warm June air. So far she had encountered no people; in fact, no sign of life, which admittedly was a relief.

As she neared Pec, she noticed that about every fifth farmhouse seemed to have suffered damage from the bombing campaign. She wondered how farms had made it onto NATO's target list. Sure, there wasn't a lot of infrastructure in Kosovo to hit with bombs in the first place, but what good did bombing farms do?

Was NATO compelled to drop munitions for the simple reason of taking action, even if an important target did not exist? No, she thought, that seemed too purposeless to be possible. She surmised that some of the farms must have been known Serb military strongholds.

She wondered if she were giving NATO more credit than what was deserved. She thought back to her first afternoon in the former Yugoslavia, those moments preceding the Blackhawk ride to Pristina Airfield. She remembered Secretary Anderson and General Willis speaking about Kosovo as an opportunity for NATO to cement its utility in a post-Cold War world. She did not want to consider the possibility that NATO, having run out of proper military targets, had begun to drop bombs less discriminately, maintaining an air campaign designed for the sole purpose of bringing Milosevic down. She did not like to think that a situation like this could be possible.

Passing through Pec was surprisingly uneventful. Aside from an absence of people on the streets, Kate wondered how prewar Pec might have differed from what she was seeing now. Almost everything appeared intact; it was only the eeriness of an abandoned town that left Kate feeling unsettled.

She saw Pristina miles ahead. Although the bombing campaign had ceased a week prior, black smoke still billowed upward, hovering over the city. As she neared the city center, she applauded the Fiat for managing the pocked road so well. Kate skillfully maneuvered around blasted pavement and abandoned vehicles, but the debris was becoming more and more of a hindrance to her road travel.

She was only a few blocks from the former observer mission headquarters when she could go no further: an overturned truck obstructed her path. Other cars nearby were flattened and blackened, destroyed by bombs, their metal parts littering the street.

The vista reminded her of movie scenes, when heroes traverse annihilated landscapes, searching for signs of life, or searching for villains. It seemed surreal. The streets were eerily quiet, with no trace of human voices, or automobiles, or whizzing mopeds like the last time she was in this place.

She had paid for the Fiat in cash in Dubrovnik, and she had hoped she might be able to use it to get around Kosovo for a while, but at that moment, she sensed that if she left the car here at the overturned truck, that when the road was finally passable, her Fiat would likely be gone. An operable automobile in a desperate place would be a prize too good to pass up. She grabbed her backpack and locked the car doors, a naive gesture that seemed to reflect the unfounded hope she held about the possibilities this forlorn place held for the future.

# Chapter 108

She felt as if she were the first human being to return to this destroyed city. Some buildings remained intact, while the facades of others had crumbled entirely into rubble as a result of the explosions. She noticed that within these buildings, one could look right into apartment living rooms and bedrooms and blown apart kitchens. It was like peering into people's homes, except there appeared to be no people left at all.

She walked a few extra blocks to the Hotel Ambassador, numbed by the absence of humanity and the sight of concrete and debris littered everywhere. She and Luke had planned to meet at the Ambassador as soon as the war was over. She had not contemplated that their meeting place might not still be standing.

She looked up and smiled. There it was: the Hotel Ambassador sign, just as it hung on her first night in Kosovo, the night Luke had given her a ride here. She entered the front doors, noticing with relief how very little had changed in the lobby since she had last set foot there. Everything else outside had changed, and yet in this exact same place that she had been before the war, this particular space felt the same.

The desk clerk looked up and smiled. "You're the first person I've seen since I arrived in Pristina," Kate said laughingly.

"And you're the first guest we've had in a while," he returned, in perfect English.

"I have my pick of the rooms, then?" she asked.

"For now," the clerk said, "but with the end of the war comes journalists, diplomats and businesspeople like yourself. Within a few days we will be booked to capacity once again," he said.

Kate looked closer at the clerk, a middle aged and overweight man with greying hair at his temples.

"How do you know I'm a businesswoman?" Kate asked.

"Your walk gives you away," the clerk explained. "You're full of purpose, and you are sure of yourself. You have a plan."

"And journalists and diplomats do not?" she asked.

"Journalists and diplomats react to events, whereas businesspeople make them," the clerk said.

Kate's smile widened "You own this hotel, don't you?"

"How did you know?" he asked, still smiling.

"These are the ideas businesspeople consider," she offered. She looked around, noticing she and the owner appeared to be the only two people in the hotel. "Where is your help?"

His smile evaporated. "They're all gone," he said. They fled a few days after the bombing campaign started. They were headed for Albania, but who knows if any of them ever made it?"

She frowned. "So it's just you and me, here in a ravaged land?"

"Right now it seems that way," he said. He pointed over at the television in the lobby. "But there are reports that the people are coming back, and they're returning quickly. The refugees have already started flooding back in from Albania and Macedonia. The first groups could be back here in Pristina by evening."

"Over half a million people were displaced by the war. How many of them will come back? There's not much left here for which to return."

"It's our land," said the hotel owner. "And they will all return. Before the war we had things, but we didn't have our freedom. Our people will return to this ravaged place, because finally they can live without fear. The only people who have to worry about anything are the Serbs. They'd better leave, you know, to avoid any trouble."

Kate forced a smile. "Certainly freedom is desirable, but the notion is useless in a lawless state." She hoped the tables wouldn't turn, and that the Kosovar Albanians would drive the Serbs from Kosovo in retribution, as the owner had intimated.

"Temporary lawlessness is better than permanent oppression," the owner stated emphatically.

Kate hoped lawlessness would not prevail, because if that were the case, then fear and violence would run rampant in postwar Kosovo, this time not only along ethnic lines, but also along economic ones.

"Hopefully Kosovo's leaders can effectively work with NATO to provide ample security until a civilian police force could be trained," she offered, wondering silently who Kosovo's postwar leaders would be.

The most viable candidate was undoubtedly Hashim Tanem, but did Tanem's experience running a violent insurgency translate into the ability to lead a nation? It was a much easier to rally support against an enemy than to try to pick up the pieces and create a state based on little more than a fierce collective desire for freedom from the Serbs. Freedom would be had, but what would be next? She kept her thoughts to herself, knowing they were impolite to share aloud.

She noticed the owner examining her countenance, as if he were trying to discern what she was thinking.

He handed her a room key. "Welcome to postwar Kosovo," he said.

# Chapter 109

He was uniformed, and he wore a helmet, but she still immediately recognized him by his stance and his gait. She called his name and started toward him.

He looked at her. She had expected him to be happy to see her; instead, he looked terrified. She stopped in her tracks.

"We haven't cleared this area yet," Luke yelled. "Please don't move!"

She stepped back onto the path and stood very still. He walked toward her cautiously, his eyes studying the ground, swinging in front of his feet what appeared to be a fancy metal detector.

She watched his face, noticing that familiar look of concentration in his gaze as his steps walked in concert with the giant metal detector. He stopped at her feet. He was sweating, and he looked tired, and older.

"You look terrible," she whispered.

He laughed. It was a hearty, unanticipated response, so robust and honest and contagious that she could not help smiling.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked.

"I didn't want to wait at the hotel."

"Until the landmines are cleared, it's too dangerous, Kate."

"I'm not afraid of death. I wanted to see you again."

"I've missed you," he whispered, his gaze softening, his face close to hers.

They stood on a path in the middle of what had been a city park. Debris surrounded them. Kate panned the area, spotting a bench under a large walnut tree, surprisingly undamaged and litter-free.

"Let's sit there for a moment," she suggested. As they walked slowly together, she inhaled, her lungs heavy. She wondered when- or if- the dust would ever settle.

When they reached the bench, he removed his helmet and wiped the sweat from his brow. He exhaled deeply.

"How are you doing?" she asked.

"I'm conscious of each step, and how the next could be my last. If the blast doesn't kill me, and, say, only blows off my leg, I wonder how I would manage a debilitating disability the rest of my life. I'm a fool to be here."

"You're not a fool," she asserted. "This is what heroes do. Think about the kids who will someday play in this park again without having to worry about accidentally stepping on landmines because of the work you're doing."

"There's too much to do," he said, leaning forward, his hands cradling his head, "and landmines pose only one threat. Unexploded cluster bombs are a serious concern, and we IRC personnel are not trained to deal with those. Cluster bombs aren't triggered by pressure like landmines; rather, they explode at any moment, for no reason at all. A handful of my colleagues today submitted requests to return home, citing mental anguish over the unpredictable environment here."

"That's too bad," Kate said. "The IRC's work is so critical for Kosovo's security. Hundreds of thousands of people are making their way back now; they could be here within the next few days. The IRC is literally laying a safe path for all of the returning refugees to follow."

"We're trying to stay ahead of the refugees," he said. "It'll be devastating enough for them to see the destruction to their homes without also having to battle a daily threat of being killed by unexploded ordnance."

He shook his head, still frowning. "To be the first back here, to witness the destruction caused by our very own air campaign, and to be tasked to be working to undo it. It's all so senseless. Look at this place, Kate. It's difficult to imagine that where we're sitting, right here, is a place where kids used to play.

She said nothing. He continued to speak. "You hold such hope for your mining operation's profitability, but is capitalism possible in a lawless place? If NATO relinquishes political control to the KLA, Kosovo's rebuilding will be hampered by mafia-like politics, replete with nepotism and blackmail and bribery. Are all of our postwar plans for development a colossal waste of effort? Won't the investment be pointless, when the looters take over?

"You see everything through such rose-colored glasses, Luke," she joked. Her smile fading, she said, "You might be right, but I hope with all of my being that we're missing some important information, or some plan, that will propel Kosovo down an entirely different path."

"I don't think so, Kate" he said wearily.

"If it's a bust, then it's on to the next endeavor, I suppose. What else can we do?"

He said nothing.

"Do you want to leave?" she asked.

"I'm not a quitter," he said.

He removed his left glove and took her hand in his. She exhaled, wondering how it was possible that such a simple, innocent gesture could make her feel calm amidst such chaos. His hand was sweaty, but she didn't mind. She rested her head on his shoulder, appreciating the warmth of his body close to hers.

He took a deep breath. She lifted her head from his shoulder to meet his gaze. His cool green eyes appeared brighter than she had remembered, the emerald color a stark contrast from the brown-black dust that encircled them in the park.

"I can't protect you here, Kate," he said quietly.

"I haven't asked you to."

He smiled. "I know, but I can't stand the thought of something bad happening to you, and there are a million things that could go wrong here. You could easily be kidnapped for ransom, or you could be shot, or you could step on landmine..."

Kate interrupted him. "Bad things might happen to us here, but what's the alternative? What else can we do? Where else can we go?"

"We could go anywhere," he said. "I love you, that's all." He squeezed her hand tightly.

"Thanks," she said.

Thanks?" he asked. "I just told you I loved you, and you said 'thanks'."

She chuckled. "I mean, thanks for caring about me. I feel the same about you. We're going to be okay, you know." She kissed him as a gesture of their solidarity.

The roar of gunfire reverberated against the buildings surrounded the park. Kate looked up nervously. "It's been happening all day," he said. "It's just Kosovar Albanians returning to the city. Shooting their pistols into the air is their way of commemorating the end of the bombing campaign."

Celebratory gunfire unsettled her. It reminded her that this was the first of what would likely be many things to make her feel uncomfortable and unsafe in postwar Kosovo. They had important work to do here, and she would not permit herself to be saddled by fear. She would be brave.

"We did the right thing, you know, coming back here," she said.

"I know," he replied softly. He ran his left hand gently through her hair, and down the side of her face. "We'll never be normal, will we?" he asked her.

She grinned. "Why would we want to?"

THE END
