John Nance - Headwind

Craig nodded. “Yes. Late last night. But, Captain, I need to know whether I’m going to have problems getting an air traffic control clearance to London. I mean, the clearance will come from Euro Control, which is in Brussels, but Rome Control could ask them to block us.”

“I doubt that will happen,” Swanson said, “but I wouldn’t advise you to wait and test Rome’s resolve. And there’s another reason I think you need to go immediately. This is Sicily, and… quite frankly, Rome is only marginally in control here. When the Carabinieri are thwarted at something, the results can be unpredictable.”

“I don’t understand,” the President said.

“Remember, sir, that we’re still subject to their jurisdiction. I’d just rather get you out of here as soon as possible.”

Craig looked at John Harris, Sherry Lincoln, and Matt Ward, then back at the President.

“Mr. President?” he asked, waiting for the response.

John Harris sat deeply in thought, his chin resting on his hands. After a few moments he took a deep breath and looked up at Craig. “Okay, I’m ready. Even if Jay’s concerns are right about London, I’d rather take a chance on them than stay in Italy. The one loose end is getting another plane chartered to take the veterans and their families back to Rome.”

“I’ll handle that, sir,” Swanson said.

The President turned to Swanson. “Captain, if you think it’s safe to do so, I want to walk into the terminal and talk to General Glueck and his group.”

“I’ll make sure we seal the doors, sir. It will be safe.” He raised his handheld radio and gave the appropriate orders before escorting the President into the terminal and placing the PA microphone in his hand.

Folks, may I have your attention?

John Harris’s voice carried through the large passenger lounge as he stood by one of the doors to the ramp and held the microphone. Most of the forty-four members of the group had been picking through a buffet table set up at the far end of the terminal. They turned now and moved toward the President as he waited for them to gather.

I wanted to come in personally and talk to you. I have decided to head for London and battle this fraudulent Peruvian legal action from there. I know you all volunteered to come with me, but that’s not necessary now, thanks to what you’ve already accomplished.

We’re arranging another charter flight to get you to Rome this evening, but I want to tell you again how deeply I appreciate your loyalty to the office I once held, to your country, and by association, to me personally. Your decision to forgo that flight back to Rome and stand with me here has made a critical difference, and I’m more than humbled that you would massively impact this marvelous once-in-a-lifetime tour of yours to stand with me in an hour of need.

There was an immediate murmur of approval followed by applause, which John Harris waved down gently.

Please… let me finish. I know that… there was considerable concern that the White House was abandoning me, but that’s not so. President Cavanaugh had a difficult decision to make, and he made it for the good of our nation, and I applaud him for that. It would have been easier to fly off with that C-17, but he felt that both the United States, and this particular former President, would be viewed as cynically evading an international process we, ourselves, helped to create. He’s right.

Harris spotted General Glueck and nodded to him.

Before I leave here, I want to shake the hand of each and every one of you, and I especially want to thank General Glueck for leading this heartwarming show of support. I want you to know that this is not just me personally you’ve been defending, but the ability of every former president to travel the world without fear of arrest on trumped-up charges. And… being a veteran myself from a slightly younger generation, I want you to know how much I honor your service and sacrifices, and that goes equally for all you twenty-two men and our one female Marine veteran, Virginia MacCabe, over there, plus the spouses and lovers who’ve stood by you, and the three children and one grandchild who’ve come along on this trip.

He replaced the microphone to applause as General Glueck approached. “You’re certain you don’t need us to come along, sir? I’ve polled everyone. We’re ready.”

John Harris put a hand on the general’s shoulder. “No, I’ll be fine from here.”

“Go home, Mr. President, as fast as possible. Please.”

Harris nodded. “I want to, believe me.” He shook Glueck’s hand and turned to the others, greeting each in turn and hugging several of the older vets before turning to the Navy commander who escorted him through the door and onto the ramp.

“Thank you so very much, Captain,” John Harris said, shaking his hand. “I’d better get moving.”

“Yes, sir, but I think we’ve got things under control. It could be a premonition, but for some reason I predict we’re going to have a little maintenance problem with the outside phone lines into the base. Too bad, too, because we just won’t be able to receive any phone calls from Rome until it’s fixed.”

“Why, that could take hours,” Harris said, smiling.

“Yes, sir, it sure could,” Swanson replied.

“Thank you, Captain,” John Harris said. The naval officer turned and started up the aisle before stopping and turning around.

“Ah, Mr. President. A personal note?”

“Yes?”

“When you left office like you did… honoring your dedication to the idea of a six-year term… it made me feel ashamed, because…”

“I’m truly sorry to have disappointed you, Captain,” Harris replied, interrupting him.

Swanson’s eyebrows shot up in alarm as he raised his hand in a stop gesture. “No, no! Not ashamed of you , sir. I was ashamed of me … because I didn’t vote for you. Your refusal to run again was the most inspiring thing I ever saw a President do.”

In normal circumstances, the plush surroundings of the multi-room hotel suite provided by the Deputy Prime Minister’s office would have riveted Jay Reinhart’s attention for at least an hour. His love of antiques and fine furniture usually dictated a happy search for the pedigree of each piece in a well-furnished room. Instead, fatigue and the surreal nature of the mission had already numbed him to the luxurious surroundings.

Jay dropped his roll-on bag in the entryway and went to the bedroom to plop down on the king-size bed in deep thought.

So now what, Kemosabe?

Sherry Lincoln had called him when he was in the car on the way to the hotel to report their imminent departure.

“I’m nervous,” he’d told her, “about bringing the President to London until I’m sure what this government is thinking, but I agree you’d better get out of there.”

“We’re starting engines now,” Sherry said, falling silent for a few seconds as the whine of jet engines rose in the background. “Can you tell me exactly what you’re afraid of, Jay?”

“Well…” he began, gauging how much of the swirling doubt to share with her. “I’m not afraid that London would send him to Lima as fast as Italy might have done, but… there’s a lot of discretion in the British extradition process and it scares me. If this government for some reason decided they wanted or needed to extradite him, they might just succeed. I just don’t know their attitude, and I can’t risk guessing.”

“You sound tired, Jay,” she said suddenly. “Are you okay?”

“I’m… ah…” he started to reply.