“Better get Galway weather just in case,” Craig suggested.
Alastair nodded. “I am. In the meantime, don’t change those throttles from maximum endurance. We need to stretch every drop of fuel we have.”
Jay glanced nervously at his watch again and tried to force himself to calm down. He looked around, recording the details of the ornate old courtroom that had obviously seen much wear and tear over the years.
The rug, to begin with, intrigued him. It was a heavily faded green with white dots, or what might have been meant to resemble small flowers. There were no pathways worn into the fabric, but the rug was at least a decade beyond its useful life.
The shape of the courtroom was generally rectangular and approximately fifty feet in depth from the back doors to the bench. The woodwork in the chamber was ornate, but worn as well, with heavy use of molding known as dental work on the many layers and courses of crown molding overhead. The bench, as well as all the other fixtures and furniture in the room, was stained a dark fruitwood. The judge’s seat was elevated above the registrar and stenographer, backed by a faded burgundy curtain that cascaded down from an elaborate paneled header some twenty feet above the bench crowned with a harp in carved relief, the symbol of the Irish Republic.
The witness stand was a simple chair to the judge’s right, more in keeping with an American court than a British one, and the jury box ran along the wall to the judge’s left, with benches provided behind the tables used by the instructing solicitors. Opposing counsel – the barristers – sat opposite their respective solicitors. The bench for the public was in the back.
The courtroom was heated with old-style radiators, and a recessed series of glass panels, some artificially lighted from above, adorned the middle of the ceiling twenty-five or thirty feet overhead.
A door opened loudly in the rear of the court, and Jay turned to see Sir William Stuart Campbell and his entourage enter, Campbell already wearing his barrister’s robe and wig, accompanied by two other barristers among his group. He moved to his chair and turned briefly to smile and nod at Jay and Michael as more people trooped in the back and took their places on the various benches.
And suddenly the clerk was calling the case, and Judge O’Connell had swept in from his chambers to convene the court.
“Mr. Campbell, I recognize you, sir, with pleasure,” Justice O’Connell said as he sat down. “I have been continuously impressed with your tireless efforts on behalf of international jurisprudence and the writing and acceptance of the Treaty Against Torture over the years.”
Campbell bowed slightly in pleasant surprise. “I thank you, My Lord, for your gracious words.”
“And Mr. Garrity, welcome back. I certainly recognize you.”
“Not with displeasure, I hope, My Lord,” Michael said with a smile.
“Certainly not,” O’Connell said, adding no more.
Campbell took the floor first, laying out the pedigree of the Interpol warrant as Michael Garrity and Jay Reinhart listened and made notes, waiting for the chance to counter him.
“Mr. Campbell,” O’Connell asked, “is President Harris, the defendant, present in the Republic of Ireland currently, or do you have reason to believe he will be in the immediate future?”
“The answer to both questions is ‘yes,’ My Lord. Mr. Harris arrived Tuesday night in Dublin.”
The President had decided to let Sherry sleep a bit longer, but she stirred now and opened her eyes, smiling as she stretched, before noticing the dour expression on his face.
“What’s going on, John?”
He sighed. “We’re going back, Sherry. The winds were too high.” He relayed what Craig and Alastair had told him when he came to the cockpit after Jillian relayed the message.
“Oh, Lord.”
“It’s okay, Sherry. It’s probably for the best. I’ve been having great doubts about this escape attempt anyway.”
“I haven’t,” she said.
“Well… we’ve no choice now.”
She stood up and pointed to the cockpit. “I’m going to have to use the satellite phone. I promised to let Jay know if this happened.”
The realization that Stuart Campbell might not know that John Harris was airborne and streaking away from Ireland was a surprise. Surely, Jay had assumed, Campbell would have arranged for someone to monitor the EuroAir 737. Was he really unaware, or was he going to officially ignore it to keep it from becoming an issue?
Jay leaned over to whisper directly in Michael Garrity’s ear. “Michael, should we admit he’s not here? Would that delay things?”
Michael shook his head and whispered back. “Not unless we’re one-hundred-percent sure John Harris is not coming back. If we raise the issue, he’ll question us, and we’ll have to admit there’s a chance the plane could turn around. There’s nothing to be gained.”
“There’s everything to be gained if we can avoid showing that tape,” Jay whispered back.
“Mr. Garrity!” Judge O’Connell snapped.
“Yes, My Lord?” Michael replied, startled.
“Would you care to join us in this action, or would you prefer to take your client outside and have a jolly chat where you’re not interrupting these proceedings?”
“My Lord, I beg your pardon, but this gentleman is Mr. Jay Reinhart, the American lawyer representing Mr. Harris, and it is proper, I believe, for me to converse with him quietly, is it not?”
“The key word is ‘quietly,’ Mr. Garrity! I don’t like a lot of whispering in my court. I have sharp ears, sir. I can hear that disgusting psst psst psst sound from yards away, and I will not have it!”
“Yes, My Lord.”
“Proceed, Mr. Campbell,” O’Connell ordered.
Jay knew the dangers of challenging Campbell’s assertion that the warrant was valid on its face. Campbell would immediately offer the videotape of John Harris into evidence, a tape that would prove, Campbell would say, that the charges against Harris were obviously substantial enough to justify an Irish warrant and an order to send John Harris to Lima for trial.
But if Michael didn’t challenge the validity of the charges, the Irish warrant would be granted almost automatically. It was a form of catch-22 that Michael and he had discussed carefully, and he was thinking about that discussion as Michael Garrity rose to his feet.
“My Lord, may it please the court…”
“Proceed, Mr. Garrity,” the judge said.
“Thank you, My Lord. Mr. Campbell asserts that the Peruvian Interpol warrant seeking the arrest of a former President of the United States of America is valid simply because it was issued through normal legal process in Peru. I say that this High Court should have full jurisdiction over the simple and vital question: is the Interpol warrant based on real, rational, and reliable prima facie charges? Or, are the charges underlying this warrant a sham, as we maintain? What if the warrant was issued without justification simply because the government of Peru illegally directed a judge to do so? If there is any possibility whatever of that, My Lord, you must require proof that the charges are more than a fantasy, and that proof should be beyond question.
Justice O’Connell literally snorted and leaned toward Michael.
“Mr. Garrity, I love a good flowery rhetorical dance as much as the next overburdened judge with time to burn, but stick to the point and state it in plain English.”
“Indeed, I am attempting to do exactly that, My Lord.”
“You’re not succeeding.”
“Then I shall try again. My Lord, this court must examine the sufficiency of the evidence, not just rely on the Interpol warrant, before issuing an Irish warrant,” Michael replied.