John Nance - Headwind

“Sit down, Mr. Garrity, you have no credibility before this court! You shall not speak.”

“Then perhaps you’ll hear me , judge.”

Even though Mr. Justice O’Connell had seen Jay Reinhart get to his feet, the fact that someone not a member of the bar had dared address his court momentarily stopped him.

“What?”

“Your honor… I’m sorry, My Lord…”

“You have no standing to address this court, Mr. Reinhart.”

“Judge, if you have disqualified our barrister, and the defendant is not here to speak for himself, then I am the only voice left.”

“SIT DOWN, SIR!”

“No, My Lord…”

“YOU DO NOT CALL ME ‘MY LORD’! You are not a barrister before this bar!”

“True, but I am a lawyer, sworn to the law, and able to speak for my client if no one else can. And I will call you whatever you deem appropriate, Mr. Justice O’Connell.”

The judge sat back heavily in his chair, his eyes flickering to Campbell, then back to Jay.

“What, exactly, do you have to say, Mr. Reinhart?”

“Just this, Judge. It was I who conceived the idea of fabricating the new sound track, merely to demonstrate clearly the point Michael Garrity made, that either sound track could have been fabricated. Never was there any intention to mislead this court. Quite the contrary. There was no way, I felt, to properly demonstrate this point by merely stating it. We had to show you it could be done. We had to show you that a good imitator could do a convincing version of John Harris’s very distinctive voice. And we established that. We also demonstrated that a talented mimic could even fabricate Mr. Reynolds’s voice. No matter how angry you may be, sir, at the tactic, it did, in fact, make that critical point. Without the supporting evidence that his tape’s sound track is real… and clearly Mr. Campbell simply cannot provide such evidence today in this forum… there is no way for him, for us, or for this court to know the truth. Absent that truth, his tape cannot be used as prima facie support of the charges against John Harris.”

“Are you through, sir?” O’Connell said in an acidic tone.

“Yes, Judge. Thank you.” Jay sat down.

“The recorder will strike that entire speech from the record,” the judge directed. “Nothing in it has in any way changed my opinion of the circus you’ve tried to make of my court, Mr. Garrity, although… I am constrained to consider this anew. We’ll take a fifteen-minute recess, and then I shall rule on both the warrant and the order of extradition.”

The sudden ringing of the satellite phone caused both pilots to jump slightly, so intense was their concentration on the unfolding battle between remaining fuel and remaining distance.

Alastair answered, almost not recognizing Jay Reinhart’s strained voice.

“I just got Sherry’s message that you’ve turned around! Tell me it’s not so.”

“It is, I’m afraid,” Alastair said. “In fact, it appears we’re going to have to land in Galway for fuel because we’re a bit short.”

“Galway?”

“Yes.”

“Could you… refuel there and try it again?”

Alastair shook his head no without even glancing at Craig. “No way. The winds have gone to hades in a handbasket.”

There was a brief pause on the other end. “I see. Ah, I need to speak to Sherry.”

Craig picked up the PA microphone and paged her to the cockpit, and she responded within ten seconds.

“It’s Jay, Sherry. I told him we were returning to Ireland,” Alastair said, handing her the phone.

“Jay! You heard we’re coming back.”

“It’s all backfired, Sherry. Everything we’ve tried. This judge is hellbent to send John packing to Lima, and he’s off on a recess right now trying to figure out if he can bypass the normal appeals and slam him on a plane immediately.”

“Oh my Lord.”

“Your returning here couldn’t come at a worse time.”

“So what do we do, Jay?”

His voice was dejected but the instructions he gave were firm. “Just get yourselves safely on the ground wherever and call me. Leave a message if I don’t answer immediately, then sit tight. I… think I’m out of options here, but until I’m sure, I’d rather keep you aboard.”

“I understand. Good luck.”

More than forty minutes had elapsed when Mr. Justice O’Connell reentered his court.

“My Lord,” Stuart Campbell said, rising slowly.

O’Connell looked slightly startled.

“Yes, Mr. Campbell?”

“Before you rule in this matter, My Lord, there is one additional point I need to make regarding our videotape.”

Mr. Justice O’Connell hesitated, then let out a slightly exasperated sigh.

“Is this truly necessary, Mr. Campbell? You’ll be gilding the lily.”

“It is necessary for the record, My Lord.”

“Very well. Proceed.”

Jay had selected the vibrate function on his GSM phone before walking into the courtroom hours before, but he’d forgotten it through the proceedings. The insistent vibrations now coursing through his coat pocket finally reached his conscious mind, and he pulled the phone out and triggered the “on” button as he quietly got to his feet to step outside the courtroom.

“Mr. Reinhart?” a familiar voice asked. “This is Secretary Byer.”

“Yes, sir,” Jay replied.

“I’m going to patch you back to Washington, Mr. Reinhart, where one of my people has an answer for you. We’ll be there in a half hour, but you may need to hear this now. In a nutshell, you were right.”

When Secretary Byer had finished, Jay stopped him from disconnecting.

“I have a question, Mr. Secretary. You’re intimately familiar with the Oval Office. Would you describe for me what’s outside the door on the western wall? I need to check my memory, and trust me, this is very important.”

In the courtroom, Campbell had hit the “play” button on his camera, starting the tape toward the end of the sequence when the President and Reynolds were apparently leaning over a map discussing the impending raid.

Campbell pressed the “pause” button then and turned to O’Connell.

“My Lord, as to the authenticity of this recording, I call your attention to the small item visible on the desk. You see there the Great Seal of the United States in the form of a medallion encased in what appears to be lucite, and just to the right you can see several papers bearing John Harris’s signature.”

Campbell returned to his table and selected a piece of paper that he handed to the clerk before handing a copy to Michael Garrity.

“I would enter into evidence at this time a personal item from my own collection of mementos, a letter from John Harris dated in 1985, which bears his signature. You can see that his signature on those letters on the screen, and the one in this exhibit, are identical.”

Michael thought of objecting on the grounds that it wasn’t the opinion of a graphology expert, but the gesture would be futile at best.

“I’ll admit that, Mr. Campbell.”

Jay had returned and was sliding back into his chair as Stuart Campbell turned the camera off. Jay began whispering urgently to Michael Garrity.

“Mr. Garrity?” the judge asked. “Do you rest, sir?”

“Just a second, My Lord,” Michael answered, ignoring the scowl on the judge’s face. In a few moments he stood up and gestured toward Jay.

“My Lord, we have received additional evidence that is extremely material to this case, and I ask you to permit Mr. Reinhart to recite it as he has just recited it to me.”

“No.”

“My Lord…”

“If you’ve something to say, Mr. Garrity, you will say it. You are the barrister before this court.”