“Leased, yes, but not immune to Italian legal authority. Let me talk to him,” Baker said, stepping closer and taking the phone from the general to introduce himself.
“Captain Swanson, you can’t keep them out if they insist on entering the base.”
He listened carefully, shaking his head. “No, Captain, listen to me. You do not have the legal right to protect that real estate as if it were American territory, and if your orders are otherwise, they’re wrong. You’ll create a substantial diplomatic mess with the Italians if you keep this up.”
Baker looked at Jack Rollins and rolled his eyes before interrupting the Navy commander. “I… I… excuse me, Captain, can I get an edge in word wise? Thank you. I know I’m not in your direct chain of command, okay? But I’m trying to advise you on the reality of the situation. They didn’t cede that land – they merely rented it to us. You above all people should understand the Status of Forces Agreement with Italy, since you’re charged with upholding it. By the time you’re through, you may just get us kicked out of there and the base closed. This has to be handled delicately.”
Rudy Baker listened to the reply, nodding his head. “All right. We’ll see to it that your commander is briefed. But in the meantime, please realize that you’re walking on razor blades.”
He handed the phone back to the general. “He says he’s going to let them on NAS-One, which is the main, nonflying portion of the base about four miles from the flight line. But he says he’s going to keep them away from NAS-Two at this point, which is the ramp and the aircraft. He said they have agreed that they won’t enter NAS-Two without his approval.” He lifted the phone. “Captain, please stand by.” He handed the receiver back to the general and turned to Jack Rollins and Alex McLaughlin. “If we’re going to snag him out of there, we’d better do it right now. Otherwise this will deteriorate into an impossible standoff. Right now, letting President Harris get on our Air Force jet and leave is simply an “Oops, we’re sorry we didn’t stop to ask your approval” situation. In ten or twenty minutes, however, any rescue will become a direct challenge to the sovereign authority of Italy, and I’ll bet my desk we’ll lose the lease on the base.”
“We need the President’s approval,” Jack Rollins said. “Anybody disagree?”
“We also need someone, if not the President,” Baker continued, “to brief the Chief of Naval Operations quickly so they can get this cowboy under control.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Assistant Secretary,” General Davidsen said, his voice acidic and his hand still over the mouthpiece, “but I believe Captain Swanson is quite under control and admirably handling a difficult situation.”
Rudy Baker sighed and raised a hand. “Sorry, General. Bad choice of words.”
The general brought the phone back to his ear as an aide to the Press Secretary entered and whispered in her boss’s ear. Diane Beecher got to her feet immediately and moved to the television console to the left of the President’s desk to pull out the remote and click it on. The image of a CNN anchor filled the screen.
“Excuse me, everyone. The story’s broken.” Diane said.
Various file photos of President John Harris and old footage from his administration were showing in a box on the screen as the anchor related the reported hijacking, the previous uncertainty of the situation, and new information from a source in Rome that President Harris was about to be arrested on criminal charges that he’d personally ordered the CIA-driven torture and murder of Peruvian civilians during his time in office.
We are going to bring you a live picture, now, by satellite, being broadcast by Italian television… the shot is apparently of the EuroAir Boeing 737 carrying former President John Harris. That airliner, which was earlier reported to be hijacked, is now sitting on the ramp at an American Navy Base in Sicily called Sigonella.
The Air Mobility Command C-17 could be seen clearly sitting to one side of a P-3 Orion, with the 737 visible on the other side.
“Oh, wonderful!” Jack Rollins muttered under his breath. “Our quick and easy little covert operation in living color.” He turned and motioned to his secretary, who’d been hovering at a discrete distance. She moved rapidly to his side.
“Tell the President I need him in here immediately. Tell him things are critical and we’re at the decision point.”
A set of portable stairs had been brought to the forward entrance of the 737 before Craig had given approval to open the door, but with the Navy commander asking to come aboard, it was time.
The Navy captain and the airline captain conferred briefly at the front door before Captain Swanson was shown into first class and introduced to President Harris, who was still holding a telephone receiver connected to the White House Situation Room.
John Harris handed the receiver to Sherry as he stood to shake Swanson’s hand and listen to his assessment of the situation.
“Are they going to try to stop me from getting on that C-17?” the President asked evenly.
Captain Swanson shook his head no. “We have two groups. One is from Catania and they are taking their orders by phone from Rome. The other is a small group that flew in on a Learjet from Rome. One person on the Lear is, I think, the deputy to the Italian foreign minister. The other is a tall guy, a civilian lawyer representing Peru, or so I’m told.”
“That would be Stuart Campbell.”
“That’s the name. I’ve left them in my office on the other part of the base we call NAS-One, essentially under guard.”
“Other part of the base?”
“About four miles away through flocks of sheep and Sicilian countryside. Campbell and the Foreign Ministry representative are in a deep disagreement over their jurisdiction. Campbell believes they have the right to just charge out here and pull you off the plane, and the Italians believe they’re prohibited during the duration of the lease from entering any area we’ve designated as secure, which is primarily the flight line. I personally don’t think they have the right to enter either base unless I approve it, which I did under pressure from the White House. Finally, sir, the Italian representative is arguing that even if Campbell is right and they could enter the ramp, they have no right to enter a foreign flag airliner.”
“They do have that right, actually,” the ex-President said. “Foreign registration of the aircraft is legally irrelevant when it’s on foreign soil. But the Italian government may be purposefully dragging their feet to give me time to get out of here.”
“That thought crossed my mind, Mr. President. And if that’s true, that’s all the more reason to make you disappear.”
“Indeed. With all due respect, Captain, I’d rather see your base some other time. So what do we do?”
“Well, sir, all we’re waiting for is the formal sign-off from the White House. No one’s going to stop your C-17 crew from leaving once you’re aboard. They’ll be off the ground in an instant. I could escort you over to the C-17 right now, but I had a rather rancorous talk about that with several people in the White House a minute ago, so now I think we’d better sit tight for a few more minutes just to make sure they’ve got all the i’s dotted and all the t’s crossed.”
“All they’re waiting for is President Cavanaugh’s approval,” Sherry interjected, the phone still pressed to her ear. “Any minute now. He’s headed back to the Oval Office to give the green light.”
“They’re supposed to call me back, too.” Swanson held up a GSM cell phone. “It’s just pro forma from here.”
A small two-way radio crackled to life and the Captain pulled it from a belt clip.