“You have no need to know, sir,” Jay replied, “until the President’s aircraft has landed. There are no advance preparations necessary, and in fact, advance notice could be detrimental if the destination leaked. Do I need to remind you that people are chasing this man with an international warrant?”
“Hardly, but you’re too late in any event. We already know he’s headed to Malta. We’re contacting Maltese authorities as we speak.”
Jay chuckled out loud. “If you’re convinced it’s Malta, then by all means, go right ahead. Meanwhile, what I need to know is whether the Air Force has any long-range transport aircraft in the mid-Mediterranean area. Something that could drop in, get the President out, and make it nonstop back to the U.S. mainland?”
“What do you mean, ‘If I’m convinced’?” Baker asked suddenly. “Is he going to Malta or not?”
“I’m not playing games, Secretary Baker, but you’re going to have to trust me on this for about an hour, for his good as well as for your own plausible deniability.”
“I see. That response essentially means that you do believe he’s going somewhere else. Let me tell you something, Mr. Reinhart. You’re way out of your league! You’re going to mess around with this like some dilettante and get Harris in real jeopardy.”
“That’s the last thing I’m going to do.”
“Well, if you’ve put him up to going to Morocco, you’re making a huge mistake. Same thing with any attempt to get to Gibraltar, Spain, Portugal, Egypt, or just about anywhere else within range. The legal complications in any of those nations will make Italy seem like Vermont by contrast, and you have no idea what you’re doing diplomatically.”
“Relax, Mr. Baker. He’s not going to any of those countries, and if I weren’t aware that I’m an amateur at international diplomacy, I wouldn’t have called you in the first place. I do need your help, but the immediate question is whether we can get the President evacuated by the Air Force or Navy when he lands.”
“What do you mean, evacuated? How can I answer that if I don’t know what sovereign state he’s to be evacuated from?”
“All right, let’s assume for the sake of argument that we’ve managed to get past whatever diplomatic problems might arise from landing him where he’s going to land…”
A short, derisive laugh on the other end cut him off. “Find me a place on this planet, Mr. Reinhart… other than the U.S., that is… where the diplomatic aspects are not a problem. We’re talking about an international warrant for his arrest and prosecution, for heaven’s sake. Wherever he lands, someone’s going to be waiting with a copy of that warrant and he will be arrested and detained. Give up the idea that you can protect him from being arrested. The real fight will be the extradition attempt, and that will require a galaxy of experienced attorneys and deep research and…”
“Sir, that’s enough!” Jay snapped. “Like it or not, I’m his lawyer. For the record, though, I tried to turn him down and he wouldn’t let me, so kindly drop the lectures. You can snarl at the President himself later for his employment indiscretion, but for now, would you please focus on the most important question we’ve got before us? We are not going to let him get arrested, because at that point we’ve truly lost control. Now. Can the Air Force or Navy pick him up or not?”
At last there was silence on the other end as Baker thought through the question. “I don’t know. That’s a question the Pentagon must answer first, and then we’d have to get to the diplomatic and political complications. It might well be that he’ll end up in a country that won’t permit such a rescue. I mean, we’re talking about sovereign states. It could be considered an act of aggression for the Air Force to pop in and extricate a former president. I will find out about the military availability, however.”
“Good.”
“But what you need to understand, Mr. Reinhart, is that only President Cavanaugh can approve that sort of rescue.”
“I realize that, but given the threat to any ex-president ever traveling abroad again and the clear consequences of not acting, how on earth could he refuse?”
There was no answer.
The summoned members of the government had first been ushered into the Cabinet Room, but at the President’s relayed request, they were escorted to the Oval Office by the Deputy Chief of Staff. Under the watchful eye of the President’s secretary, Alex McLaughlin from Justice, Rudy Baker from State, the Deputy Director of the CIA, the National Security Advisor, and an Air Force lieutenant general had milled about for the previous ten minutes before the President swept into the room and pulled up a chair in front of his desk.
“Sit, everyone. Where are we on President Harris’s dilemma?”
The Deputy Director of the CIA started to respond, but the President stopped him.
“First, I should tell you I know he’s headed to Malta, and that somehow the commercial aircrew he’s flying with has decided to be his protector, which is rather strange for a German airline.”
“Not strange at all, sir,” the general interjected. “We’ve got an Air Force reserve officer in the captain’s seat of that airliner. He’s not under our orders or anything, but he’s definitely one of ours. An expatriate commercial pilot who lives in Frankfurt.”
“Really?” the President responded. “That’s fortunate.”
“Mr. President,” Rudy Baker interjected, “I have reason to believe Malta may not be the destination.” He described his conversation with Jay Reinhart.
“When was that call, Rudy?” the President asked.
“Just before we left the Cabinet Room, sir. About twenty-five minutes ago.”
The President nodded and raised his hand for silence. “Okay, and what the heck is this about some defrocked Texas judge playing attorney for Harris? What’s up with that?”
Alex McLaughlin began relating Reinhart’s history, but the President cut him off. “Okay, okay. I get the picture. For some unknowable reason, Harris has hired a maverick who’s a walking liability, which means we have to pick up the slack. Right?”
“No, sir,” McLaughlin said, detailing the reasons the Justice Department had to remain in the background.
Rudy Baker repeated Reinhart’s request for Air Force or Navy assistance, while the CIA Deputy Director chimed in with an assessment of the places Harris could land, and the National Security Advisor briefed them on the possible consequences for U.S. foreign policy of a long battle to extradite Harris to Peru.
“All right,” President Cavanaugh said at last. “We obviously can’t solidify an option list until he lands somewhere.”
They all nodded.
“Very well. General, you said he couldn’t stay airborne more than two hours, so let’s meet again in two hours.” He looked at the Deputy Chief of Staff. “Can we do that?”
“Yes, sir. We’ll move the schedule.”
“And the press isn’t onto this yet?”
“Not really, sir. The wires are reporting a possible hijacking, but no one’s connected it with Harris as yet.”
“Amazing. Usually we don’t know about it until CNN’s got live pictures and Peter Jennings is doing a special report from New York.”
The group fanned out of the Oval Office, the Air Force general moving rapidly into an adjacent room to use a secure phone. He punched in the appropriate numbers and drummed his fingers on the table waiting for a voice on the other end.
“Joe? I’m going down to the Situation Room in a minute. Get the AMC command post at Scott on a secure line and get the duty controller to identify every available C-17, C-5, or C-141, or even one of the Andrews Gulfstreams, within five hundred miles of Italy that we could use for a mid-Med evacuation nonstop to the CONUS over the next few hours. ID the bird and the crew, in flight if possible, and stand by to order them in. We’ll need inflight refueling, too, so they better scare up a few tankers in the plan.”