The Birthday Girl Read Free Page A

be thirteen years old the following day.
    As soon as she came down the stairs the next day, carrying a plate of bread and cheese, Freeman wished her a happy birthday in her own language, trying to pronounce it exactly as Stjepan had told him. She showed no reaction as she put the tin plate on the floor and pushed it towards him with her foot, covering him all the time with the Kalashnikov. Switching back to English, he told her that he had wanted to get her a present but that he hadn't been able to get to the shops. Her face remained impassive, but at least she was listening to him and her finger remained outside the trigger guard. Freeman began to sing 'Happy Birthday' to her, his voice echoing off the walls of his prison. She looked at him in disbelief, a worried frown on her face as if she feared that he'd gone crazy, then she realised what he was doing. When THE BIRTHDAY GIRL 11 she smiled it was as if the sun had come streaming into the basement.
    Maury Anderson's office was like the man himself - showy, pretentious even, and definitely built for comfort. Katherine walked across the plush green carpet and sat down on the imported sofa which curved around one corner of the room. It was the best office in the building, with its view of the woods and fields, and no expense had been spared on its furnishings. It was the office that the company used to impress its clients. Her husband's office was in stark contrast, a small cubicle overlooking the car park with a threadbare carpet, cheap teak veneered furniture and one sagging couch.
    Katherine studied Anderson as she lit a Virginia Slim. He was pacing up and down in front of his massive eighteenth-century desk, rubbing his hands together. He was dressed as if he were going to a funeral: a black suit, starched white shirt, sombre tie and gleaming black shoes. 'You said you'd heard from the kidnappers,' Katherine said, crossing her legs.
    'Uh-huh,' Anderson grunted. 'It arrived by Federal Express an hour ago.'
    Katherine looked across at the large-screen television and video recorder which was normally used to show the firm's promotional films to clients. 'A video?'
    Anderson stopped pacing. Katherine had never seen him so tense. She wondered how bad it could be. 'Canlgetyouadrink?' he asked.
    Katherine shook her head. 'Just show me the video, Maury,' she said. She took a long drag on the cigarette and blew the smoke out through tightly pursed lips.
    'You'd better prepare yourself, Katherine. He doesn't look too good.'
    Katherine nodded curtly and Anderson pressed the 'play' button. The screen flickered and then Tony was there, sitting on a stool and holding a sheet of paper that looked as if it had 12 STEPHEN LEATHER been torn from a child's exercise book. He was staring at the camera, then he jumped at a whispered command. He began to read from the note.
    'I am held by Bosnian forces who are struggling against invaders from Serbia. The Serbs are killing our country like Hitler in Europe.' Tony grimaced at the unwieldy English and looked off-screen. A harsh whisper told him to go on. 'Anyone who trades with the Serbian invaders is an enemy of the people of Bosnia and will be treated so. If I am to be released, you must agree not to sell your weapon to the Serbs.'
    'Weapon?' Katherine said. Anderson held up a hand telling her to keep quiet until the end of the message.
    'As compensation for breaking the United Nations embargo, you will give the Bosnian forces fifty of the equipment.' Tony broke off from reading and looked at the camera. 'They mean fifty of the MIDAS systems, Maury. They'll want the complete kits.' The man standing behind the camera told Tony to keep to the script, but Tony insisted that he had to explain what was meant so that there'd be no misunderstanding. The off-screen voice grudgingly agreed. 'They also want a quarter of a million dollars in cash, Maury. When it and the equipment is delivered to our contact in Rome, I'll be released,' Tony continued. His