John Nance - Headwind

Deputy Prime Minister Anthony Sheffield entered suddenly with two aides and shook Jay’s hand warmly before sitting in a chair across the table.

“Let me get right to the point, Mr. Reinhart. Her Majesty’s government is aware of your mission to defend Mr. Harris from the international arrest warrant issued by Peru. We’re aware he’s at this moment in Sicily and the circumstances of that presence. We understand the Italian government’s stance, and we’re aware that you’ve been making inquiries about our official attitude toward the Peruvian warrant if Mr. Harris should arrive on these shores.”

Jay nodded. “That’s all quite correct.”

“Very well. While we will need several hours to give you a formal answer, as a lawyer I’m sure you understand fully that, whatever our point of view, it is in no way controlling. I know you’re aware that our courts are independent, as are yours in the States. This matter will be decided by judges.”

“Well, sir, unless something has changed drastically in the last few weeks, the Secretary of State still has final authority.”

“Yes, but only after the judiciary.”

“Has the warrant already been presented to a magistrate court, Mr. Sheffield?”

“I really don’t know,” Sheffield replied. “But I should think we would be wise to expect that step at any moment.”

“I do believe that the government’s attitude, and your degree of interest, will very likely weigh in the thinking of any judges who get this case.”

“Again, I firmly doubt that,” Sheffield replied. “Let me ask, is your plan to fly President Harris here this afternoon?”

“Yes,” Jay said cautiously, “provided…”

“Provided our position is not interpreted by you as a threat?”

“Yes.”

“I can guarantee nothing, you understand, and I cannot even give you an idea until the PM has had time to consider the situation. We have been in touch with the White House, of course.”

“I thought you might.”

“And we are, as you might guess, very distressed to hear a legal process under a treaty to which we are a party, and to which we have unavoidable obligations, has been initiated against an American ex-President.”

Jay studied Sheffield’s eyes, looking for the deeper meaning behind his chillingly phrased words.

“As you can imagine, President Harris was equally distressed,” Jay replied. “Mr. Sheffield, let me emphasize that this… this warrant is a ridiculous and fraudulent instrument in essence, and one that will ultimately be quashed for lack of credible charges. But… in the meantime, we need to ask that there be no government support for any short-circuiting or speedup of the extradition process. That is your governmental province, and the Secretary of State is certainly a member of your government.”

“I understand.”

“May I tell the President he can count on that?”

“No, Mr. Reinhart, you may not. Only the PM can decide what, if anything, we can do from this level, and what, if anything, should be communicated to the Secretary, whose obligation is primarily legal, and not political. Now, how may I contact you later this afternoon?”

Jay hesitated a few seconds, slowly accepting the reality that nothing more of substance was going to be said. He was already alarmed by the distance Sheffield had placed between John Harris and the British leadership.

“I have a rented cell phone,” Jay said at last.

“Splendid,” the Deputy PM said, motioning to one of his aides to write down the number Jay repeated.

“Where are you staying, Mr. Reinhart?”

“I… don’t have a hotel yet. I came straight from the airport.”

“Well, I shall be happy to arrange one for you, and transportation to the hotel as well.” Sheffield got to his feet. “I’ll ring you in a few hours.” He began to turn.

“Excuse me, Mr. Sheffield.”

“Yes?” Sheffield turned back, balancing himself with one hand on the table as he waited for the verbal postscript.

“You…indicated you would answer my question when I got here… how did the PM’s office know to expect my call?”

Sheffield laughed. “Oh, that! Well, Mr. Reinhart, let’s just say that we had some advance information that President Harris had retained you, we knew you arrived this morning at Heathrow, and no lawyer in your position would fail to contact Her Majesty’s government. So…”

Jay met the man’s gaze, feeling a small chill run up his back at the obvious sidestep.

“Who told you, sir?”

There was a telling hesitation and a frozen smile.

“I’m not really at liberty to say, Mr. Reinhart. But it really doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, now does it? Good day, Mr. Reinhart.”

He turned and left before Jay could reply.

“Mr. President?”

John Harris stirred in the first-class seat and opened his right eye, focusing instantly on Sherry Lincoln’s face hovering over him.

“Yes, Sherry?”

“I hate to wake you.”

He sat up and stretched. “I’m not sure I was really asleep. What time is it?”

She sat down next to him. “After three P.M. I just spoke with Jay Reinhart, and he’s waiting for the British Prime Minister’s office to ring him. In a nutshell, he says that based on what the Italian foreign minister told Captain Swanson, we’re safe here until tomorrow, and he’s worried about what the British may decide to do. So he wants us to wait until morning before flying to London.”

“Oh wonderful! Another night at the Boeing Arms Hotel.”

She laughed and rolled her eyes. “I know it! And I can’t find a working shower on the entire plane.”

“Swanson is okay with this?”

“That’s another reason to wake you, sir,” she replied. “Captain Swanson is coming across the ramp as we speak. He called ten minutes ago and told us to wake the pilots and stand by. He wouldn’t say why.”

Craig Dayton met Captain Swanson at the top of the airstairs and escorted him to the President immediately.

“We’ve got to get you out of here, sir,” Swanson announced. “Apparently, Mr. Campbell has convinced a judge to declare this ramp under exclusive Italian control. There’s nothing to stop them now.”

“There wasn’t supposed to be a ruling until tomorrow! Why did the judge issue the order early?”

“I don’t know, Mr. President, but I was told the judge has probably already signed the order, or whatever they do here in Italy. When my commander and the Pentagon get the word, I fully expect I’ll be ordered to stand aside and let them come aboard and arrest you.”

“Captain,” the President said, “who relayed all this to you?”

“An assistant to the Italian foreign minister. I’m afraid I’ve forgotten the name, but it’s back in my office.”

“That’s okay,” Harris said, rubbing his chin in thought, then looking squarely at Glen Swanson. “You feel the call was authentic?”

“Yes, sir. He seemed to know everything I would expect him to know in that position. He knew about my earlier call from Mr. Anselmo.”

“All right.”

“And I know he was calling from Rome because of the operator.”

“How long do we have?” Harris asked.

“I don’t know, but I would expect them to move rapidly. Having to leave empty-handed yesterday was an affront to the local Carabinieri commander.”

Craig Dayton had been standing behind Swanson and taking in every word.

“We can go, then?” Craig asked, turning and gesturing to the President. “If you’re ready, that is, sir.”

“You can depart anytime,” Swanson said. “We did fuel the airplane, right?”