Chapter 12
It had been six months since Dana's Land Rover had been blown up. She escaped with nothing worse than a concussion, a cracked rib, a broken wrist, and painful bruises. Jovan suffered a fractured leg and scrapes and bruises. Matt Baker had telephoned Dana that night and ordered her to return to Washington, but the incident had made Dana more determined than ever to stay.
"These people are desperate," Dana told him. "I can't just walk away from this. If you order me home, then I quit."
"Are you blackmailing me?"
"Yes."
"That's what I thought," Matt snapped. "I don't let anyone blackmail me. Do you understand?"
Dana waited.
"What about a leave of absence?" he asked.
"I don't need a leave of absence." She could hear his sigh over the phone.
"All right. Stay there. But, Dana - "
"Yes?"
"Promise me that you'll be careful."
From outside the hotel, Dana could hear the sound of machine-gun fire. "Right."
The city had been under heavy attack all night. Dana had been unable to sleep. Each explosion of a mortar landing meant another building destroyed, another family homeless, or worse, dead.
Early in the morning, Dana and her crew were out on the street, ready to shoot. Benn Albertson waited for the thunder of a mortar to fade away, then nodded to Dana. "Ten seconds."
"Ready," Dana said.
Benn pointed a finger, and Dana turned away from the ruins behind her and faced the television camera.
"This is a city that is slowly disappearing from the face of the earth. With its electricity cut off, its eyes have been put out... Its television and radio stations have been shut down, and it has no ears. ...All public transportation has come to a halt, so it has lost its legs..."
The camera panned to show a deserted, bombed-out playground, with the rusty skeletons of swings and slides.
"In another life, children played here, and the sound of their laughter filled the air."
Mortar fire could be heard again in the near distance. An air raid alarm suddenly sounded. The people walking the streets behind Dana continued as though they had heard nothing.
"The sound you're hearing is another air raid alarm. It's the signal for people to run and hide. But the citizens of Sarajevo have found that there is no place to hide, so they walk on in their own silence. Those who can, flee the country, and give up their apartments and all their possessions. Too many who stay, die. It's a cruel choice. There are rumors of peace. Too many rumors, too little peace. Will it come? And when? Will the children come out of their cellars and use this playground again one day? Nobody knows. They can only hope. This is Dana Evans reporting from Sarajevo for WTE."
The red light on the camera blinked off. "Let's get out of here," Benn said.
Andy Casarez, the new cameraman, hurriedly started to pack up his gear.
A young boy was standing on the sidewalk, watching Dana. He was a street urchin, dressed in filthy, ragged clothes and torn shoes. Intense brown eyes flashed out of a face streaked with dirt. His right arm was missing.
Dana watched the boy studying her. Dana smiled. "Hello."
There was no reply. Dana shrugged and turned to Benn.
"Let's go."
A few minutes later, they were on their way back to the Holiday Inn.
The Holiday Inn was filled with newspaper, radio, and television reporters, and they formed a disparate family. They were rivals, but because of the dangerous circumstances they found themselves in, they were always ready to help one another. They covered breaking stories together:
There was a riot in Montenegro...
There was a bombing in Vukovar...
A hospital had been shelled in Petrovo Selo...
Jean Paul Hubert was gone. He had been given another assignment, and Dana missed him terribly.
As Dana was leaving the hotel one morning, the little boy she had seen on the street was standing in the alley.
Jovan opened the door of the replacement Land Rover for Dana. "Good morning, madam."
"Good morning." The boy stood there, staring at Dana. She walked over to him. "Good morning."
There was no reply. Dana said to Jovan, "How do you say 'good morning' in Slovene?"
The little boy answered, "Dobro jutro."
Dana turned to him. "So you understand English."
"Maybe."
"What's your name?"
"Kemal."
"How old are you, Kemal?"
He turned and walked away.
"He's frightened of strangers," Jovan said.
Dana looked after the boy. "I don't blame him. So am I."
Four hours later, when the Land Rover returned to the alley in back of the Holiday Inn, Kemal was waiting near the entrance.
As Dana got out of the car, Kemal said, "Twelve."
"What?" Then Dana remembered. "Oh." He was small for his age. She looked at his empty right shirtsleeve and started to ask him a question, then stopped herself. "Where do you live, Kemal? Can we take you home?" She watched him turn and walk away.
Jovan said, "He has no manners."
Dana said quietly, "Maybe he lost them when he lost his arm."
That evening in the hotel dining room, the reporters were talking about the new rumors of an imminent peace. "The UN has finally gotten involved," Gabriella Orsi declared.
"It's about time."
"If you ask me, it's too late."
"It's never too late," Dana said quietly.
The following morning, two news stories came over the wires. The first one was about a peace agreement brokered by the United States and the United Nations. The second story was that Oslobodjenje, Sarajevo's newspaper, had been bombed out of existence.
"Our Washington bureaus are covering the peace agreement," Dana told Benn. "Let's do a story on Oslobodjenje."
Dana was standing in front of the demolished building that had once housed Oslobodjenje. The camera's red light was on.
"People die here every day," Dana said into the lens, "and buildings are destroyed. But this building was murdered. It housed the only free newspaper in Sarajevo, Oslobodjenje. It was a newspaper that dared to tell the truth. When it was bombed out of its headquarters, it was moved into the basement, to keep the presses alive. When there were no more newsstands to sell the papers from, its reporters went out on the streets to peddle them themselves. They were selling more than newspapers. They were selling freedom. With the death of Oslobodjenje, another piece of freedom has died here."
In his office, Matt Baker was watching the news broadcast. "Dammit, she's good!" He turned to his assistant. "I want her to have her own satellite truck. Move on it."
"Yes, sir."
When Dana returned to her room, there was a visitor waiting for her. Colonel Gordan Divjak was lounging in a chair when Dana walked in.
She stopped, startled. "They didn't tell me I had a visitor."
"This is not a social visit." His beady black eyes focused on her. "I watched your broadcast about Oslobodjenje."
Dana studied him warily. "Yes?"
"You were permitted to come into our country to report, not to make judgments."
"I didn't make any - "
"Do not interrupt me. Your idea of freedom is not necessarily our idea of freedom. Do you understand me?"
"No. I'm afraid I - "
"Then let me explain it to you, Miss Evans. You are a guest in my country. Perhaps you are a spy for your government."
"I am not a - "
"Do not interrupt me. I warned you at the airport. We are not playing games. We are at war. Anyone involved in espionage will be executed." His words were all the more chilling because they were spoken softly.
He got to his feet. "This is your last warning."
Dana watched him leave. I'm not going to let him frighten me, she thought defiantly.
She was frightened.
A care package arrived from Matt Baker. It was an enormous box filled with candy, granola bars, canned foods, and a dozen other nonperishable items. Dana took it into the lobby to share it with the other reporters. They were delighted.
"Now, that's what I call a boss," Satomi Asaka said.
"How do I get a job with the Washington Tribune?" Juan Santos joked.
Kemal was waiting in the alley again. The frayed, thin jacket he had on looked as though it was about to fall apart.
"Good morning, Kemal."
He stood there, silent, watching her from under half-closed lids.
"I'm going shopping. Would you like to go with me?"
No answer.
"Let me put it another way," Dana said, exasperated. She opened the back door of the vehicle. "Get in the car. Now!"
The boy stood there a moment, shocked, then slowly moved toward the car.