"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.
"They will stop when they run out of ammunition," Jovan said bitterly. "And they will never run out of ammunition."
The streets were deserted, except for a few pedestrians, and all the cafes were closed. Pavements were pockmarked with shell craters. They passed the Oslobodjenje building.
"That is our newspaper," Jovan said proudly. "The Serbs keep trying to destroy it, but they cannot."
A few minutes later, they reached the satellite offices. "I will wait for you," Jovan said.
Behind a desk in the lobby, there was a receptionist who appeared to be in his eighties.
"Do you speak English?" Dana asked.
He looked at her wearily. "I speak nine languages, madam. What do you wish?"
"I'm with WTE. I want to book some satellite time and arrange - "
"Third floor."
The sign on the door read: YUGOSLAVIA SATELLITE DIVISION. The reception room was filled with men seated on wooden benches lined against the walls.