Free Avenger by Frederick Forsyth Page B

hostel for the mainly British Press. It was on a street known as TV Alley, just outside the army compound but safe enough if things turned nasty.
    Knowing what most army men think of the Press, he did not bother with his 'freelance journalist' cover story, but sought a meeting with the colonel commanding on the basis of what he was, ex-Special Services.
    The colonel had a brother in the Paras. Common background, common interests. Not a problem, anything he could do to help?
    Yes, he had heard about the missing American boy. Bad show. His patrols had kept a look out, but nothing. He listened to the Tracker's offer of a substantial donation to the Army Benevolent Fund. A reconnaissance exercise was mounted, a light aircraft from the Artillery people. The Tracker went with the pilot. They flew the mountains and ravines for over an hour. Not a sign.
    "I think you're going to have to look at foul play," said the colonel over dinner.
    "Mujahedin?"
    "Possibly. Weird swine, you know. They will kill you as soon as look at you if you're not a Muslim, or even if you are but not fundamentalist enough. May fifteenth? We'd only been here for two weeks. Still getting the hang of the terrain. But I've checked the Incident Log. There were none in the area. You could try the ECMM sitreps. Pretty useless stuff, but I've got a stack in the office. Should cover May fifteenth."
    The European Community Monitoring Mission was the attempt of the European Union based in Brussels to horn in on an act that they could influence in no way at all. Bosnia was a UN affair until finally, in exasperation, taken over and resolved by the USA. But Brussels wanted a role, so a team of observers was created to give them one. This was the ECMM. The Tracker went through the stack of reports the next day.
    The EU monitors were mainly armed forces officers loaned by the EU defence ministries with nothing better to do. They were scattered through Bosnia where they had an office, a flat, a car and a living allowance. Some of the situation reports, or sitreps, read more like a social diary. The Tracker concentrated on anything filed 15 May or the three days following. There was one from Banja Luka dated 16 May that caught his eye.
    Banja Luka was a fiercely Serbian stronghold well to the north of Travnik and across the Vlasic mountain chain. The ECMM officer there was a Danish major, Lasse Bjerregaard. He said that the previous evening, i.e. 15 May, he had been taking a drink in the bar of the Bosna Hotel when he witnessed a blazing row between two Serbs in camouflage uniform. One had clearly been in a rage at the other and was screaming abuse at him in Serbian. He slapped the face of the junior man several times, but the offending party did not answer back, indicating the clear superiority of the slapper.
    When it was over the major tried to seek an explanation from the barman, who spoke halting English which the Dane spoke fluently, but the barman shrugged and walked away in a very rude manner which was unlike him. The next morning the uniformed men were gone and the major never saw them again.
    The Tracker thought it was the longest shot of his life but he called the ECMM office in Banja Luka. Another change of posting; a Greek came on the line. Yes, the Dane had returned home the previous week. The Tracker called London suggesting they ask the Danish Defence Ministry. London came back in three hours. Fortunately the name was not so common. Jensen would have been a problem. Major Bjerregaard was on furlough and his number was in Odense.
    The Tracker caught him that evening when he returned from a day on the water with his family in the summer heatwave. Major Bjerregaard was as helpful as he could be. He remembered the evening of 15 May quite clearly. There was, after all, precious little for a Dane to do in Banja Luka; it had been a very lonely and boring posting.
    As each evening, he had gone to the bar around 7.30 for a pre-dinner beer. About half an hour later a