“Understood.”
“Sergeant Jones, are you still with us?” Jay asked.
“Yes, sir,” the voice came back crisp and immediate.
“Can you get General Davidsen back?”
“He’s in the Oval Office, sir. Stand by.”
Nearly a minute ticked by before the general’s voice returned.
“Yes?”
“It’s Jay Reinhart, General. We’ve got a problem.” He quickly related what he’d seen along the fence. “Can’t you authorize moving President Harris into the C-17 right now?”
“Just a second, Mr. Reinhart,” the general said. There was a muted discussion in the background with an occasional word filtering through.
“Okay,” Davidsen said at last. “Here’s where we are. President Cavanaugh is on his way to the Oval to approve this, and we have to wait a few more seconds for him to get here.”
“We may not have a few more seconds, General. Are you, by chance, watching this CNN coverage?”
“Yes, we have it on, and I’ve seen the same shot, Mr. Reinhart, but they’re not through the gate yet. Just hang on.”
As promised, Craig Dayton had gone back to coach again to try to defuse some of the fury that was threatening to spill into first class and interfere with the impending transfer of the President. Secret Service Agent Matt Ward had moved to the rear of first class for just that reason, increasingly concerned that three of the most aggravated passengers, all European males, would decide to rush him at the very moment he needed to be escorting the President across the ramp to the C-17. He watched the captain moving slowly down the aisle, making promises and trying to explain what was happening, without giving all the details. The strategy, however, was not working.
Exasperated, Craig pushed through six or seven men who were out of their seats and charged back to the front of the cabin to a small PA microphone the airline had added at the forward bulkhead.
Ladies and gentlemen, this is Captain Dayton. Please look forward. I’m here at the front of the cabin. Now I want you to listen to me. For the next twenty or thirty minutes, we are going to be in the middle of a major diplomatic confrontation between the governments of Italy and the United States. You may have noticed the news helicopters hovering in the distance. You are on TV right now, I’ve been told, and the whole world is watching. In a few minutes, President Harris will be transferred to that large Air Force jet you see next to us. At that point, I will let all of you off the airplane and we will deal with the question of when we can fly you back to Rome, or get you directly out of here to whatever other destinations you have. But no one is going to leave this cabin until the President has left. For those passengers who are upset and angry, let me tell you that yelling at me or at the flight attendants or at other passengers will not get you where you want to go any faster. For those of you who have been patient and understanding, my heartfelt thanks. We’ll have this resolved as quickly as possible.
Craig replaced the microphone and watched with relief as most of those standing began to sit down. Judging that things were under control for the moment, he turned and walked back to first class and was startled to see President Harris disappearing into the cockpit and Alastair standing just outside.
“Someone was ringing him on our cockpit satellite phone,” Alastair explained when Craig reached the entry area. “Someone named Campbell.”
John Harris eased into the proffered copilot’s seat and picked up the receiver.
“Well, Stuart, you’ve been a busy man,” Harris said.
“And you, Mr. President, have been an exceptionally clever one in the last few hours.”
“Why are you calling me? It’s rather customary for an attorney to limit his contact to the other party’s attorney, as you well know.”
“I wasn’t aware that you’d had time to retain counsel. Of course I’ll contact your lawyer and his firm, but only as a courtesy, you understand. This is, after all, a criminal matter, Mr. President, and I merely represent the complainant, which is Peru. I think you should know, by the way, that I have the smoking gun. That’s why I rang you. Just to let you know personally that this is no frivolous matter.”
“What are you talking about, Stuart?”
“We have the evidence. I thought you ought to know that in advance. We know you were in the Oval Office when the order for that raid was given, and we know it was after the initial CIA finding. We also know there was a deliberate effort to make it appear that no one from Langley was anywhere near the White House that day, but in fact, one very important CIA operative was there, and you relayed the order through him.”
“I gave no orders, directly or indirectly, to conduct that raid,” John Harris snapped, “and I’m not about to engage in a debate with you on this meritless nonsense. In fact, there is no point to this conversation.”
“Oh, I think there is. I know you to be a statesman, John, and running from this action is beneath your dignity. Since you no longer have a Chief of Staff to remind you of this, then I might as well be the one to do so.”
Harris chuckled. “So now you expect to shame me into surrendering to Peruvian jurisdiction? Stuart, please, you know better than that. You’re asking me to voluntarily agree to face bogus charges in a monkey trial run by a dictator in Lima who has sworn to execute me? Don’t hold your breath.”
“We’re in Italy, Mr. President. I expect you to submit yourself to Italian jurisdiction and let the Italian courts decide if and when you should go to Lima, and I can assure you that despite your scandalous characterization of the Peruvian president and the Peruvian courts, they are a civilized nation in full compliance with international law and with this treaty, which is more than I can say for the United States. The John Harris the world knows… the moralist and statesman… would do the right thing and stop this little escape attempt, which is clearly beneath the dignity of perhaps the only American President to ever refuse guaranteed reelection. By the way, I’ve always thought your devotion to the concept of a single six-year term was exceptional and historic.”
“I see no purpose in continuing this exchange, Sir William, and your backhanded compliments are of no interest to me. You’re far too good a lawyer to be rolling dice with the Italian courts. You had this all set up, but you didn’t expect me to slip out of your grasp.”
“You haven’t escaped in any event, have you? You’re still here, just a short distance away from where I’m standing.”
“Don’t create a diplomatic confrontation, Stuart. You can’t win it. It didn’t work for you fifteen years ago, and it won’t work now.”
“That was then; this is now. You’ve certainly assumed a cocky attitude for a Republican asking a Democratic President to rescue him. Your faith in President Cavanaugh is misplaced. Surely you know that.”
“Sitting American Presidents, as a rule, are disinclined to see former American Presidents mistreated, arrested, or subjected to show trials. Good day, Stuart. Contact Mr. Jay Reinhart, my attorney, for any further discussion.” He passed the number in Wyoming and disconnected before getting out of the copilot’s seat and returning to his seat, visibly angry.
“What was that about?” Sherry asked, but he waved her off, his mind increasingly consumed with remembering everything he could about the events leading to the disastrous Peruvian raid.