Colonel Divjak stepped away from her and nodded toward the firing squad. "Ready, aim - "
"Stop that screaming!"
Rough hands were shaking her. Dana opened her eyes, her heart pounding. She was lying on the cot in her small, dark cell. Colonel Divjak was standing over her.
Dana sat up, panicky, trying to blink away the nightmare. "What - what are you going to do to me?"
Colonel Divjak said coldly, "If there were justice, you would be shot. Unfortunately, I have been given orders to release you."
Dana's heart skipped a beat.
"You will be put on the first plane out of here." Colonel Divjak looked into her eyes and said, "Don't ever come back."
It had taken all the pressure that the State Department and the president could muster to get Dana Evans released. When Peter Tager heard about the arrest, he had gone in to see the president.
"I just got a call from the State Department. Dana Evans has been arrested on charges of espionage. They're threatening to execute her."
"Jesus! That's terrible. We can't let that happen.
"Right. I'd like permission to use your name."
"You've got it. Do whatever has to be done."
"I'll work with the State Department. If we can pull this off, maybe the Tribune will go a little easier on you."
Oliver shook his head. "I wouldn't count on it. Let's just get her the hell out of there."
Dozens of frantic telephone calls later, with pressure from the Oval Office, the secretary of state, and the secretary-general of the United Nations, Dana's captors reluctantly agreed to release her.
When the news came, Peter Tager hurried in to tell Oliver. "She's free. She's on her way home."
"Great."
He thought about Dana Evans on his way to a meeting that morning. I'm glad we were able to save her.
He had no idea that that action was going to cost him his life.
When Dana's plane landed at Dulles International Airport, Matt Baker and two dozen reporters from newspapers and television and radio stations were waiting to greet her.
Dana looked at the crowd in disbelief. "What's - ?"
"This way, Dana. Smile!"
"How were you treated? Was there any brutality?"
"How does it feel to be back home?"
"Let's have a picture."
"Do you have any plans to go back?"
They were all talking at once. Dana stood there, overwhelmed.
Matt Baker hustled Dana into a waiting limousine, and they sped away.
"What's - what's going on?" Dana asked.
"You're a celebrity."
She shook her head. "I don't need this, Matt." She closed her eyes for a moment. "Thanks for getting me out."
"You can thank the president and Peter Tager. They pushed all the buttons. You also have Leshe Stewart to thank."
When Matt told Leshe the news, she had said, "Those bastards! They can't do that to the Tribune. I want you to see that they free her. Pull every string you can and get her out of there."
Dana looked out the window of the limousine. People were walking along the street, talking and laughing. There was no sound of gunfire or mortar shells. It was eerie.
"Our real estate editor found an apartment for you. I'm taking you there now. I want you to have some time off - as much as you like. When you're ready, we'll put you back to work." He took a closer look at Dana. "Are you feeling all right? If you want to see a doctor, I'll arrange - "
"I'm fine. Our bureau took me to a doctor in Paris."
The apartment was on Calvert Street, an attractively furnished place with one bedroom, living room, kitchen, bath, and small study.
"Will this do?" Matt asked.
"This is perfect. Thank you, Matt."
"I've had the refrigerator stocked for you. You'll probably want to go shopping for clothes tomorrow, after you get some rest. Charge everything to the paper."
"Thanks, Matt. Thank you for everything."
"You're going to be debriefed later. I'll set it up for you."
She was on a bridge, listening to the gunfire and watching bloated bodies float by, and she woke up, sobbing. It had been so real. It was a dream, but it was happening. At that moment, innocent victims - men, women, and children - were being senselessly and brutally slaughtered. She thought of Professor Staka's words. "This war in Bosnia and Herzegovina is beyond understanding." What was incredible to her was that the rest of the world didn't seem to care. She was afraid to go back to sleep, afraid of the nightmares that filled her brain. She got up and walked over to the window and looked out at the city. It was quiet - no guns, no people running down the street, screaming. It seemed unnatural. She wondered how Kemal was, and whether she would ever see him again. He's probably forgotten me by now.
Dana spent part of the morning shopping for clothes. Wherever she went, people stopped to stare at her. She heard whispers: "That's Dana Evans!" The sales clerks all recognized her. She was famous. She hated it.
Dana had had no breakfast and no lunch. She was hungry, but she was unable to eat. She was too tense. It was as though she were waiting for some disaster to strike. When she walked down the street, she avoided the eyes of strangers. She was suspicious of everyone. She kept listening for the sound of gunfire. I can't go on like this, Dana thought.
At noon, she walked into Matt Baker's office.
"What are you doing here? You're supposed to be on vacation."
"I need to go back to work, Matt."
He looked at her and thought about the young girl who had come to him a few years earlier. "I'm here for a job. Of course, I already have a job here. It's more like a transfer, isn't it?...I can start right away...." And she had more than fulfilled her promise. If I ever had a daughter...