Chapter 10
"Fasten your seat belts, please."
Here we go! Dana thought excitedly. She looked over at Benn Albertson and Wally Newman. Benn Albertson, Dana's producer, was a hyperkinetic bearded man in his forties. He had produced some of the top-rated news shows in television and was highly respected. Wally Newman, the cameraman, was in his early fifties. He was talented and enthusiastic, and eagerly looking forward to his new assignment.
Dana thought about the adventure that lay ahead. They would land in Paris and then fly to Zagreb, Croatia, and finally to Sarajevo.
During her last week in Washington, Dana had been briefed by Shelley McGuire, the foreign editor. "You'll need a truck in Sarajevo to transmit your stories to the satellite," McGuire told her. "We don't own one there so we'll rent a truck and buy time from the Yugoslav company that owns the satellite. If things go well, we'll get our own truck later. You'll be operating on two different levels. Some stories you'll cover live, but most of them will be taped. Benn Albertson will tell you what he wants, and you'll shoot the footage and then do a sound track in a local studio. I've given you the best producer and cameraman in the business. You shouldn't have any problem."
Dana was to remember those optimistic words later.
The day before Dana left, Matt Baker had telephoned. "Get over to my office." His voice was gruff.
"I'll be right there." Dana had hung up with a feeling of apprehension. He's changed his mind about approving my transfer and he's not going to let me go. How could he do this to me? Well, she thought determinedly, I'm going to fight him.
Ten minutes later, Dana was marching into Matt Baker's office.
"I know what you're going to say," she began, "but it won't do you any good. I'm going! I've dreamed about this since I was a little girl. I think I can do some good over there. You've got to give me a chance to try." She took a deep breath. "All right," Dana said defiantly. "What did you want to say?"
Matt Baker looked at her and said mildly, "Bon voyage."
Dana blinked. "What?"
"Bon voyage. It means 'good journey.' "
"I know what it means. I - didn't you send for me to - ?"
"I sent for you because I've spoken to a few of our foreign correspondents. They gave me some advice to pass on to you."
This gruff bear of a man had taken the time and trouble to talk to some foreign correspondents so that he could help her! "I - I don't know how to - "
"Then don't," he grunted. "You're going into a shooting war. There's no guarantee you can protect yourself a hundred percent, because bullets don't give a damn who they kill. But when you're in the middle of action, the adrenaline starts to flow. It can make you reckless, and you do stupid things you wouldn't ordinarily do. You have to control that. Always play it safe. Don't wander around the streets alone. No news story is worth your life. Another thing..."
The lecture had gone on for almost an hour. Finally, he said, "Well, that's it. Take care of yourself. If you let anything happen to you, I'm going to be damned mad."
Dana had leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.
"Don't ever do that again," he snapped. He stood up. "It's going to be rough over there, Dana. If you should change your mind when you get there and want to come home, just let me know, and I'll arrange it."
"I won't change my mind," Dana said confidently.
As it turned out, she was wrong.
The flight to Paris was uneventful. They landed at Charles de Gaulle Airport and the trio took an airport minibus to Croatia Airlines. There was a three-hour delay.
At ten o'clock that night, the Croatia Airlines plane landed at Butmir Airport in Sarajevo. The passengers were herded into a security building, where their passports were checked by uniformed guards and they were waved on. As Dana moved toward the exit, a short, unpleasant-looking man in civilian clothes stepped in front of her, blocking her way. "Passport."
"I showed them my - "
"I am Colonel Gordan Divjak. Your passport."
Dana handed her passport to him, along with her press credentials.
He flipped through it. "A journalist?" He looked at her sharply. "Whose side are you on?"
"I'm not on anyone's side," Dana said evenly.
"Just be careful what you report," Colonel Divjak warned. "We do not treat espionage lightly."
Welcome to Sarajevo.
A bulletproof Land Rover was at the airport to meet them. The driver was a swarthy-looking man in his early twenties. "I am Jovan Tolj, for your pleasure. I will be your driver in Sarajevo."
Jovan drove fast, swerving around corners and racing through deserted streets as though they were being pursued.
"Excuse me," Dana said nervously. "Is there any special hurry?"
"Yes, if you want to get there alive."
"But - "
In the distance, Dana heard the sound of rumbling thunder, and it seemed to be coming closer.
What she was hearing was not thunder.
In the darkness, Dana could make out buildings with shattered fronts, apartments without roofs, stores without windows. Ahead, she could see the Holiday Inn, where they were staying. The front of the hotel was badly pockmarked, and a deep hole had been gouged in the driveway. The car sped past it.
"Wait! This is our hotel," Dana cried. "Where are you going?"
"The front entrance is too dangerous." Jovan said. He turned the corner and raced into an alley. "Everyone uses the back entrance."
Dana's mouth was suddenly dry. "Oh."
The lobby of the Holiday Inn was filled with people milling about and chatting. An attractive young Frenchman approached Dana. "Ah, we have been expecting you. You are Dana Evans?"
"Yes."
"Jean Paul Hubert, M6, Metropole Television."
"I'm happy to meet you. This is Benn Albertson and Wally Newman." The men shook hands.
"Welcome to what's left of our rapidly disappearing city."
Others were approaching the group to welcome them. One by one, they stepped up and introduced themselves.
"Steffan Mueller, Kabel Network."
"Roderick Munn, BBC 2."
"Marco Benelli, Italia I."
"Akihiro Ishihara, TV Tokyo."
"Juan Santos, Channel 6, Guadalajara."
"Chun Qian, Shanghai Television."
It seemed to Dana that every country in the world had a journalist there. The introductions seemed to go on forever. The last one was a burly Russian with a gleaming gold front tooth. "Nikolai Petrovich, Gorizont 22."
"How many reporters are here?" Dana asked Jean Paul.
"Over two hundred and fifty. We don't see many wars as colorful as this one. Is this your first?"
He made it sound as though it were some kind of tennis match. "Yes."
Jean Paul said, "If I can be of any help, please let me know."
"Thank you." She hesitated. "Who is Colonel Gordan Divjak?"
"You don't want to know. We all think he is with the Serbian equivalent of the Gestapo, but we're not sure. I would suggest you stay out of his way."
"I'll remember."
Later, as Dana got into her bed, there was a sudden loud explosion from across the street, and then another, and the room began to shake. It was terrifying, and at the same time exhilarating. It seemed unreal, something out of a movie. Dana lay awake all night, listening to the sounds of the terrible killing machines and watching the flashes of light reflected in the grimy hotel windows.
In the morning, Dana got dressed - jeans, boots, flak jacket. She felt self-conscious, and yet: "Always play it safe... No news story is worth your life."
Dana, Benn, and Wally were in the lobby restaurant, talking about their families.
" I forgot to tell you the good news," Wally said. "I'm going to have a grandson next month."
"That's great!" And Dana thought: Will I ever have a child and a grandchild? Que serd sera.
"I have an idea," Benn said. "Let's do a general story first on what's happening here and how the people's lives have been affected. I'll go with Wally and scout locations. Why don't you get us some satellite time, Dana?"
"Fine."
Jovan Tolj was in the alley, in the Land Rover. "Dobro jutro. Good morning."
"Good morning, Jovan. I want to go to the place where they rent satellite time."
As they drove, Dana was able to get a clear look at Sarajevo for the first time. It seemed to her that there was not a building that had been untouched. The sound of gunfire was continuous.
"Don't they ever stop?" Dana asked.