The TRIBUNAL by Peter B. Robinson Read Free Book Online Page B

Mommy picked me up and took me to get some school clothes. I like Nordstrom better.”
        “Now, what did you do today?” she asked, fluffing up her pillow.
        “I didn’t exactly have the greatest day,” Kevin said, wearily plopping on the edge of the bed. He told Ellen about his efforts to help his new friend, Nihudian, and his encounter with prosecutor Bradford Stone.
        “What are you going to do?” she asked, as if hearing an exciting bedtime tale.
        “I don’t know.”
        “Dad, that guy Stone is nothing more than a big bully.”
        “Ellen, you’re absolutely right.”
        “You tell me not to let bullies boss me around.”
        “I do.”
        “Then just forget about the creep.”
        Kevin smiled at the utter simplicity of the sound advice he’d just gotten. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.” He rose from her bed. “Now go to sleep, my angel.”
        Ellen was yawning, but continued stretching out her bedtime. “The song. You have to sing me the song.”
        Kevin started singing their new favorite bedtime song called “Butterfly Kisses,” and soon heard Ellen’s rhythmic breathing.
        The next day, Kevin rode the second-hand bike he’d bought from a neighbor to the American Book Center in The Hague. There, he picked up the latest adventures of Harry Potter. Then, he met Nihudian. He wanted to go over the testimony Nihudian would be giving in court. If he was going to be his lawyer, he was going to do it right.
        “Come on,” Nihudian said when they met near the bookstore. “I’m going to take you for another Dutch delight.”
        He led Kevin through the Binnenhof, an old, walled enclosure of stone buildings that housed the Dutch Parliament. They walked under an old brick arch. Nihudian pointed to part of the building shaped like a cylinder with a turret-like roof. “That’s where the Prime Minister of the Netherlands has his office.” Behind the building was a huge fountain of water in the large pond that bordered the Binnenhof.
        “Look at this,” Nihudian said, pointing like a tour guide to the church-like building in the center. “That’s Knights’ Hall, the oldest building in The Hague. It dates back to the Medieval Era of the 13 th century, when it was built by the Count of Holland as a hunting lodge. Once a year, Queen Beatrix rides her golden carriage here from her palace and opens the session of the Dutch Parliament.”
        “That is ancient,” Kevin agreed. “In California, a building from the 1800s is considered old.”
        They walked through the arch on the opposite side.
        “Now, for lunch,” Nihudian said. He led Kevin to another food stand just outside the Binnenhof, near a green statue of a Dutch monarch on a horse. A white seagull was perched on top of the statue’s head.
        Nihudian took care of the ordering. “Two orders of kibbeling with fish sauce.”
        The man behind the counter handed them two plastic containers full of fried fish pieces. Nihudian and Kevin carried their lunch over to some white plastic chairs overlooking the Binnenhof pond.
        Kevin dipped a piece of kibbeling in the sauce, and immediately proclaimed it delicious. “You sure know your Dutch food, Nihudian.”
        As they sat and watched the fountain spewing water high into the pond, Kevin quizzed Nihudian about his role in intercepting the conversations and about the notebooks. Nihudian’s testimony seemed to Kevin to be routine.
        “I decided I am going to tell my boss at the Bosnian Embassy about having to testify,” Nihudian said after they had finished their lunch and were strolling past small shops lining the street toward the tram stop in the center of The Hague.
        “Do you think you’ll lose your job?”
        “I might. The people who work in the diplomatic area are very sensitive. But I could get in more trouble