John Nance - Headwind

The Secretary stared momentarily at McLaughlin. “Really?”

“Yes. And, by the way, the thing that wrecked his judgeship was falling in lust with a female defendant, whom, I might add, he later married.”

“Well, your oversexed and knowledgeable international legal scholar just blasted into Number Ten Downing a few hours back and essentially put the British Government in a corner, demanding to know what they were prepared to do.”

“That, I take it, was not the right approach?” McLaughlin asked.

“Are you kidding?” the Secretary asked with a smile.

“I’m a lawyer, Mr. Secretary, not a diplomat. I’m sure Mr. Reinhart and I share a propensity for finding the shortest distance between two points. Not to defend him, of course.”

“Of course.” The Secretary of State rolled his eyes and glanced around at the others again. “Defend Mr. Reinhart if you must, but just get him the hell out of my way. Understood? Send him on a tour, take him to din-din, buy him a cookie, get him drunk… whatever. Just get him out of my hair. This is a ‘No Amateurs’ zone.”

Everyone nodded without comment.

“Good,” Byer said. “We’re on a mission from God in the Oval, and that mission is to contain this situation until the Peruvians give up and die of old age. No extradition, no release, just a long, laborious, boring, and essentially useful submersion of this into triviality.”

“And what if the PM and the British Secretary of State won’t go along with that?” McLaughlin asked.

The American Secretary of State looked him in the eye. “You’re just a barrel of fun tonight, aren’t you, Mr. Assistant Attorney General?”

“Just wondering, Mr. Secretary, what we’re planning to do if the British judiciary claps the cuffs on our ex-Pres and has him carted off to a waiting Peruvian plane with the blessing of the PM?”

“Never happen.”

“You’re sure? What about the rule of law? Britain understands that concept. Heck, we got it from them in the first place.”

“Never happen, Alex. First of all, you yourself briefed me about the extradition procedure. It takes time. And I know this Prime Minister is a bit of a rogue, but the Court of St. James is still far too interested in American cooperation diplomatically and militarily to buck us on something like this. Extradition isn’t a worry. This Reinhart character is.”

Giuseppe Anselmo replaced the receiver and held it in place for less than ten seconds before turning to his secretary and bellowing in Italian.

“Get the head of Rome Air Traffic Control on the line. Quickly, please!”

There was a flurry of activity in the outer office and several lighted trunk lines glowing on his desk phone before the intercom line rang.

“He’s on three, sir.” She passed the name and the title of the man and Anselmo stabbed at the button with a pudgy index finger, identifying himself with the subtlety of a gunshot.

“Why are your people holding up the clearance of that EuroAir flight in Sigonella?”

There was a confused response on the other end and a request to hold.

“Ah… I thought, Minister Anselmo, that we were not supposed to release him. That is why the clearance has been… delayed.”

“ Who thought that?” Anselmo demanded.

“I… ah, Minister, your staff told me your office did not want us to let him go.”

“ My staff? Who on my staff?”

“Rufolo Rossini, your deputy. He didn’t tell me to do this, but from what he said, I assumed that you would want us to act, since it made sense.”

“You assumed ? Has Air Traffic Control now taken on foreign and domestic policy decisions as well?”

“No, Minister, I…”

“Release that flight at once. Get him out of Italian airspace as fast as you can. Rossini had no authority to give you that order.”

“But, Minister, Italy was trying to arrest the occupant of that aircraft, no?”

“Since you’re intent on making national policy, let me tell you what the President, and I, want. We want that EuroAir flight and the former American President on it out of Italy as fast as possible! The last thing in the world Italy needs is a worldwide media circus focusing on whether we’re doing the right thing with respect to President Harris. If we hold him, we lose. If we extradite him, we lose. If we try him, we lose. But if he flies away on his own to escape the warrant, we at least come out diplomatically intact. Where does he want to go?”

“London.”

“Wonderful. Let the English battle this one. Get him out of here!”

“I’m very sorry, sir. If you’ll let me go, now, we’ll release the clearance.”

“See to it! And don’t you ever dare make an assumption like that on your own again.”

The man rang off and Anselmo slammed the receiver back into place with enough force to startle his secretary, who peered around the corner of the office to make sure he was all right.

“Sir?”

“Find Rossini and get him in here immediately! I must find out who else he’s been manipulating behind my back.”

Nigel White had briefed both Geoffrey Wallace and Jay Reinhart about the probable futility of any attempt to quash the Interpol warrant in the setting of a magistrate court.

“Basically, all we can do is listen and grumble a bit, unless you’ve got evidence that the warrant is truly bogus,” White advised.

Sir William Stuart Campbell’s presentation of the Peruvian warrant was predictable, but the image of Nigel White suddenly rising to his feet was not.

“Judge, may it please the court,” Nigel said, watching carefully as the magistrate peered over the half-glasses he was wearing.

“Mr. White? What say you in this matter?”

Stuart Campbell turned in slight surprise.

“On behalf of Mr. John Harris, former President of the United States of America, I pray the court consent to hear important evidence that the offered warrant, while authentic in its issuance by Peru, states its cause fraudulently, not only under British law, but under Peruvian law as well.”

The magistrate frowned and leaned forward. “Mr. White, in the court’s view, this is not the forum for contesting the validity of those charges. In addition, I might add that you yourself just testified to the validity of the warrant’s origin, which is all I’m concerned with at the moment.”

“What better forum exists, sir? Should we wait for the injustice of an actual arrest of a former head of state of the most powerful nation on earth before discovering that this warrant is essentially a lie, alleging a crime that in no way could have been committed by Mr. Harris? This does not constitute the application of justice.”

“Perhaps not, Mr. White, but it constitutes the application of the laws of Great Britain in the matter of arrest and extradition, in the order in which they are to be applied. Now sit down please.”

“No, sir, I will not sit. I stand to beg you to permit Mr. Harris’s American attorney, Mr. Jayson Reinhart, to speak to this matter.”

The magistrate shook his head in mild disgust and pointed his gavel at Stuart Campbell, who had been standing at his respective table with a bemused expression.

“Mr. White, unless you can convince Sir William Campbell here to permit such a useless debate, and one which in no way will affect my ruling, I require you to SIT DOWN, sir!”

Stuart Campbell turned to the judge and raised a finger. “Sir, if you please.”

“Sir William? Surely you’re not prepared to say such argument is acceptable to your client?”

“On the contrary. However, the government of Peru also has no wish to engage in even the appearance of intransigence when it comes to presenting a full and complete evidentiary record. Regardless of the legal immateriality of it, I would be pleased to listen to Mr. Reinhart of America, if this court would consent to hear him.”