“I know Kajevic isn’t going to town for prayer meetings,” Goos said.
Ferenc nodded. The actual purpose of the visits, they believed, was to see a Serbian doctor, a radiologist. He relayed messages to and from Kajevic, who still regarded himself as the leader of a nation and remained in control of a large network of supporters. To NATO, the importance of the hospital visits was that they provided an ideal opportunity to bring down Kajevic outside the monastery walls.
“Zere are tactical problems,” Captain Ferenc added. His grammar was perfect but his accent was strong. He explained that the two men who were accompanying Kajevic each day were not monks either, but rather bodyguards with automatic weapons concealed under their cassocks. I was intrigued by the technology that had allowed NATO to identify the concealed firearms from a distance, but even going back to my days as US Attorney metal-finding infrared scanners existed, although employing them on US soil for random searches of the civilian population was barred by the Fourth Amendment.
“In hospital, vee know,” said Ferenc, “zere is one man, perhaps more, who vould fight for our subject’s freedom.”
An expectant silence fell over the room, which seemed to signal that it was the general’s turn to speak again.
“In order to avoid a repetition of what happened in Doboj eleven years ago,” she said, “we need a substantial force at the hospital. We continue to believe that one reason the subject has remained at the monastery is due to the vantage it affords, allowing them to detect any large-scale movement into town. We can infiltrate some soldiers appearing to be tourists with backpacks or guidebooks, but Madovic doesn’t ordinarily see more than a few such visitors each week, so a large presence—say a tour bus, which we thought of originally—might prove alarming. Also, troops posing as tourists can hide only pistols. So in order to get a force of combat-ready soldiers into that town, we need to ask for your assistance.”
“Merde,” said Goos.
With the bad news delivered, the captain spoke again.
“Vee have been able to monitor communications. Zey are vatching you. Very helpful.”
“For us or you?” Goos asked. No smile. He was prickly.
The general, however, grinned politely.
“Both actually. As we expected, the people we have overheard are not surprised that you now have protection, which they regard as an unfortunate consequence of their overrreaction on Tuesday. But they remain nervous that sooner or later you will correctly guess their true motivations. We take it from the chatter that they successfully encouraged the gentleman you had gone to Vo Selo to visit to leave the area.”
“So we understand,” I said.
“They hope you will be departing once you learn he is gone.”
“Wish is my command,” said Goos.
The general again smiled at Goos’s venting.
“Here are our thoughts,” she said. “We would like to use the situation they created on Tuesday night to ensnare them. Given what followed your last visit to Vo Selo and your witness’s response to you, it would be understandable—especially to those who know little about your Court—if you returned to Vo Selo, accompanied, say, by a full squad in combat gear as a way to express your repugnance at this fellow’s intimidation.”
“And why won’t Kajevic bash off as soon as they see NATO troops?” Goos asked.
General Moen nodded. “We have access to Bosnian Army uniforms. I would describe the arrangement as Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell. At any rate, these ‘Bosnian’ troops will be there to help you enter the premises and to ensure that your reluctant witness does not use the same measures as last time.”
“But he’s gone,” I said.
“Exactly,” said the general. “You will find the house empty. Just as you are about to leave, however, one of you will suffer a serious injury.”
“What kind of injury?” asked Goos.
“Feigned of course. Although we must make it convincing. However, because of this mishap, you and your military escort will rush to the nearest hospital—in Madovic.”
I got it, naturally.
“This injury in Vo Selo,” continued the general, “will take place just as the three monks have departed from the hospital, around 13:30. Traveling at top speed, you should be in Madovic in roughly ten minutes. The monks’ procession back to the monastery usually takes half an hour, although it would be better to apprehend them in the first fifteen minutes, when they are farther away and less likely to receive any efforts at aid from the mountaintop. Four ‘tourists’ will cut them off from the rear. If all goes well, the subject can be extracted in a matter of seconds.
“He will be taken back to The Hague, but I assume you would rather travel independently, which you can do on your own or with an escort, as you prefer.”
Goos’s face was still.
“Why can’t one of the soldiers be the injured party?”
The intelligence officer answered. “He vould go to military hospital.”
Goos still had a snarling look. “They’ll know, you realize. Kajevic’s people? They’ll know it wasn’t a coincidence we were there when he was bailed up.”
“If you like,” said General Moen, “you can proceed to the hospital for medical treatment. We’ll have someone in place. Or we can have a medic on the scene bandage you up as a smoke screen.”
Goos was shaking his head, and I interrupted.
“General,” I said, “we need to talk about this. I’m sure you understand. And even if we choose to go along, we probably need to inform our superiors.”
“Please let me know. I’m sure we can help with that.”
“And when would this take place?” I asked.
She stopped to consider how to deliver the next piece.
“Given the realities, the sooner the better. We are preparing for an operation tomorrow.”
Again, no one spoke for some seconds.
“You must understand,” she said, “how reluctant we are to ask the assistance of civilians in a matter of this nature, especially given your recent experiences. Unfortunately, you are essential.”
Goos left the room without a word. Andersen and a soldier named Greer were at the front doors of the hotel to escort us to the car.
“Look, Goos,” I said quietly, when we were in the backseat again, “I’m going to be asking myself only one thing: Do they really need us?”
He replied in a low growl, “You don’t have to talk me into this, mate.”
“I wasn’t going to try.” I bowed my head toward the two soldiers in the front seat, but Goos was unconcerned about speaking in front of them. “I just want to think it through.”
“They already have,” Goos answered. “It’s as she said: They don’t want to be using civilians for a military operation any more than we care to be used. But they need numbers to do this quickly and to keep anyone from getting killed.”
He was surprising me, as usual.
“I still need to think,” I answered.
“That you should, buddy,” he said. “Because there’s a lot that can come a gutser.”
After another minute without words, Goos said, “You can skip this one, Boom. They only need one of us and I signed up for this sort of thing a long time ago.”
To be precise, neither of us had really signed up. But he meant that when he took his oath in law enforcement he knew he was accepting a measure of physical risk. For lawyers, that was not in the job description. Early in my career as an Assistant US Attorney, I had, for kicks, gone along with the DEA to watch when they arrested Gaucho Hinjosa, a local drug kingpin. My boss, Stan Sennett, reamed me out afterward. ‘You want a badge and a gun, then go apply to be a policeman. Would you let an agent give a closing argument? We each have our jobs and an obligation not to get in each other’s way.’
Perhaps if Goos were better off physically, I might have been willing to send him on his own. But he didn’t seem to be in condition to be falling down in a heap to play a part, or to do whatever else might be required to pass himself off as seriously injured.