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Michael jumped to his feet. “Mr. Justice O’Connell, I object…”

“SIT DOWN, Mr. Garrity! Of course you object, and the record will carry your objections, and I fully expect you to appeal on the grounds that I’m biased, or prejudging the case, or whatever. I expect you’ll challenge my assertion of jurisdiction, the driver’s license I used to get here this morning, and perhaps even what I ate for breakfast. And if our Supreme Court wants to reverse me, so be it. But in the meantime, I will rule in my court the way I see fit, without the interference of the likes of you, sir!

Stunned to silence, Michael sank slowly into his chair.

FORTY-SIX

EuroAir 1020, in Flight – Thursday – 11:05 A.M. Dublin Time

Sherry Lincoln caught the ashen expression on Jillian Walz’s face as Jillian left the cockpit. Sherry got to her feet, cornering Jillian in the forward galley.

“What’s wrong up there?”

“Oh, nothing. Just technical…”

“Jillian! I know I’m a civilian and not one of your crew, but I can tell B.S. when it’s thrown at me. What’s going on? If it’s a personal thing, I’ll back off, but if it has to do with the operation of this flight, you’re going to tell me.”

Jillian looked away and pursed her lips for a second, then met Sherry’s eyes and tried, unsuccessfully, to smile. “We have a small problem. The winds are far worse than planned, and… and…”

“You’re… not telling me we’re going somewhere else but Ireland?”

Jillian exhaled sharply. “Ah… no… I’m not. We’re… going to be landing at Galway because we’re very short of fuel.”

“How short?”

“One approach only, and there’s fog, and since you must know, I’m scared to death.”

It was Sherry’s turn to swallow hard. “But we are going to make it?”

“Craig says yes, but it will be close. I know these fellows, and what’s scaring me is that I’ve never seen them this quiet.”

The Four Courts, Dublin, Ireland

Before Mr. Justice O’Connell could formally declare the brief recess he had decided to take, Michael Garrity jumped to his feet. “My Lord…”

“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.”

EuroAir 1020, in Flight

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.”

The Four Courts, Dublin, Ireland

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.”