VANGUARD(66)

“This is not Orlisia. This is Soviet territory.” Jaros’ eyes flashed with rage, his lips pulling back from his teeth.

The smile on Michael’s face vanished, and he leaned forward.

“Not in the eyes of the United Nations, Commandant,” he whispered in Orlisian. He saw Jaros’ hand go up to signal his guards. Michael moved his American passport forward so it caught the Commandant’s eye.

“Ah-ah, my friend.” Michael reverted to his flat American accent. “You don’t want to shoot me. I’m too well connected to be disposed of quietly.”

“I do not know who you are,” the older man snarled, “but it will not take me long to find out. And all you have accomplished is to provide me with advance warning as to the United Nations’ intentions. I can return to Moscow before any subpoena is issued. The UN cannot invade the Soviet Republic to retrieve me; that is far beyond the mandate of any peacekeeping mission.”

Last card.

“But what if your government does not protect you, Commandant Jaros?” He kept his voice soft, persuasive. “Your efforts to lay claim to the young men in this camp were done without sanction of your superior officers. On seeing the evidence of your war crimes, the Soviet ambassador to the United Nations is right now considering his options. One of which is surrendering you to the tribunal directly. Perhaps your country does not wish to be caught harboring 2014’s answer to Heinrich Himmler.”

Jaros’ eyes bugged at the mention of the former Nazi commander who had died at his own hand rather than face justice for engineering the death camps of World War II.

“Perhaps more detail will be shared at the press conference,” Michael suggested. “Have you the facilities to watch it here?”

The Commandant composed himself and took a laptop from a shelf beside him. After several long minutes, CNN appeared on the screen, and shortly thereafter, the press conference began. The spokesperson for UN Secretary-General opened, and Michael prayed that his father’s information had been good.

Major General Cecil Wilder was introduced as the leader of the Orlisian peacekeeping operation, and he took the podium to answer selected questions about the mission. He handed off to the UN High Commissioner for Refugees himself, who spoke at length about the Parnaas camp.

Jaros watched the screen impassively. So far all of Michael’s information had checked out, but nothing truly classified had been shared yet. The spokesperson for the Secretary-General began talking again, and Michael saw the Commandant’s body posture stiffen.

“Following a request by the UN Security Council, International Criminal Court Prosecutor Yejida Matunga will begin a joint investigation into allegations of war crimes stemming from evidence and eyewitness accounts at the Parnaas Refugee Camp near the Orlisian border.” Matunga took the podium, gave a brief statement, and began accepting questions. Two or three reporters asked about the situation. Michael tensed when the spokesperson called on the world affairs reporter from the Washington Post.

Please tell me Father got to her in time…

“It is my understanding that many of these eyewitness accounts are from the Refugee Crisis Coalition, currently working in the Parnaas camp. How much consideration will be given to the coalition and in particular the testimony of coalition leader, Sophie Swenda?”

Jaros didn’t move as the reporter took her seat and the prosecutor said that the Refugee Crisis Coalition would indeed be called upon for testimony and that their records would be subpoenaed by the Office of the Prosecutor.

“Anyone with information germane to the investigation could be called upon to testify. We expect that list to include Ms. Swenda and other members of the coalition executive committee, especially those with firsthand contact with the refugees who are alleged to have had war crimes visited upon them,” she concluded, and the spokesperson called for the next question. Jaros closed the computer and turned to face Michael, his face impassive.

“Sophie Swenda.” The Commandant tapped his pen on the desk. “How is my dear Sophie?”

“Lying in the infirmary, suffering from dysentery.” At least that much was true.

Jaros’ face clouded over. “I am distressed to hear this. You will convey my good wishes for recovery to her?”

He nodded. Just the sound of Sophie’s name on this madman’s lips made him want to commit an atrocity of his own.

“It appears that Sophie holds a great deal of influence over my fate,” Jaros said with a twisted smile.