“But they miscalculated their fuel, Sherry,” Jay had countered.
“True, but they pulled it out. That’s the important thing. They got us here safely, even if my hair is now completely silver!”
Only John Harris had seemed unaffected by the aeronautical drama, focusing instead on what had transpired in Mr. Justice O’Connell’s court.
“A movie set of the Oval Office! I never thought of that, Jay,” he’d said. “I knew my words on that tape were false, but… even I would have sworn that was me on the screen in the Oval.”
Jay pulled his attention back to the oncoming 737. The EuroAir jet was turning onto the hard stand, the noise forcing his fingers in his ears. As soon as the pilots brought the craft to a halt and cut the engines, the internal airstairs began to descend.
Jay walked toward the front entrance, waving to the attractive flight attendant who was standing in the doorway. She motioned to him to come aboard and he bounded up the steps.
Sherry was waiting at the top with a bear hug, and John Harris was right behind, his handshake progressing to a hug and a hand on Jay’s shoulder.
“Well done, Jay! Very well done!”
“Thank you, John, but…”
“No ‘buts.’ You did it!”
The pilots emerged from the cockpit, their faces reflecting the strain of the past few hours, as Matt Ward slipped into the doorway to scrutinize the ramp beyond, noting the approach of a limousine.
“Joe Byer is here to greet you, too,” Jay said, as he ran a hand through his hair to control an unruly forelock. “He got the information to me just in time this morning about the U.N.’s findings… about Peru torturing political prisoners. And then he flew over here in time to help me prove we were dealing with an artificial set and actors, not you and the Oval Office. He’s been very helpful.”
Matt Ward left the doorway and moved to the President’s side.
“Secretary Byer and three others are on their way to the plane, Mr. President.”
“See them in, please, Matt,” Harris responded, turning to the captain. “Craig? You remember when we were headed to Rome and I said I wanted to take you and your crew to dinner?”
Craig Dayton looked cornered. “Ah, I think so, sir.”
“Well, tonight’s the night, provided you’ll stay over.”
“Thank you, Mr. President, but…”
The President raised the palm of his hand. “No objections, Craig, I’ve got some work to do on your behalf, and it’ll be easier if you’re still here and I’m still paying for the charter.”
Craig glanced at Alastair. “I’ll be real surprised, Mr. President, if they ever let us fly on EuroAir again, even as passengers.”
“Give me a few hours,” John Harris said, “and we’ll see about that. By the way, I need that list of EuroAir personnel and phone numbers we talked about.”
“Okay,” Craig managed, noting that the Secretary of State was already halfway up the stairs.
“So,” John Harris said, “tonight we’re all going to debrief over the best food I can find in Dublin, and I’ve reserved rooms for everyone at the Shelbourne Hotel. No arguments. I’m buying.”
He turned, then, extending his hand just as Joe Byer stepped through the entry door.
With Matt Ward and Sherry Lincoln dispatched on various errands, John Harris had the two-room suite to himself, which was just what he wanted.
A knock on the door came as expected, and he greeted the visitor with a correct handshake.
“I thought it was time for some hatchet burying,” Harris said as he motioned the man toward the couch and sat in an opposite chair.
“I agree,” William Stuart Campbell replied with a neutral expression.
“We’ve never talked about the U.N. negotiations back in the eighties, Stuart, and… it occurred to me that I never explained or apologized for what happened.”
“No,” Stuart said. “But I assumed you achieved exactly what you wanted to achieve.”
John Harris shook his head. “I did not intend to kill your amendment.”
“Then why did you do it? Just what was your intention?”
John Harris studied the carpet for a few seconds before replying. “There you were in the limelight, Stuart, the engine behind the convention. Pearls of wisdom cascaded from your mouth with every speech. You’d done a masterful job of gathering the entire international community around you…”
“And your client,” Stuart interrupted, “was determined to have you kill my offered amendment on sovereign immunity, the amendment that would have everyone in agreement that butchers like Pinochet could never hide behind the concept.”
“I didn’t have a client, Stuart,” John Harris said.
“What?” Stuart Campbell’s eyebrows came together. “But… you were there representing the Saudis…”
“I was there representing myself. You only assumed I was representing the Saudis because you knew I’d been doing a lot of recent work for them.”
“But… why, John? You convinced the entire Third World that I was somehow going to kidnap and try all their leaders when all I was trying to do was keep the true criminals from slipping away.”
“I know.”
“And… you believed, personally, that this was the right thing to do?”
Harris shook his head slowly. “I wish I could claim noble purpose.”
“But, why? You cost us a year of angst while Britain grappled with the archaic concept of sovereign immunity for that bloody bastard Pinochet!”
“Was this personal, Stuart?” John Harris asked without warning. “This little action against me on Peru ’s behalf?”
“Personal?”
“Did you take this case because I blocked you in New York?”
Stuart looked at John Harris for several moments. “Yes and no.”
Harris laughed. “The perfect lawyer’s answer! I overuse it myself.”
Stuart was not laughing. “I didn’t create the opportunity, John. I was shown the tape by President Miraflores, and I believed it was real.”
Harris nodded. “Well, even I was fooled. Not by the words, which I knew weren’t mine, but by the images.”
“I chose to believe it was real,” Stuart continued, “because I thought it was the best of poetic justice.”
“Poetic…?”
“Yes! Have you forgotten the other provision that went along with that amendment of mine regarding sovereign immunity?”
“I… guess I have.”
“It was a procedure, John, for quickly trying the evidence of an Interpol warrant in order to protect former presidents and prime ministers against frivolous actions. Each nation would be required to hold an immediate and honest hearing on whether the charges were backed by real evidence or not, and whether the complaining country was competent to hold a fair trial. In other words, John, precisely what you needed in this case.”
“So, you thought…”
“I thought, what a marvelous opportunity! John Harris, the high and mighty, is going to rue the day he killed that amendment.”
“Did you know the charges were false?”
“Of course not. Good heavens, man, I do have some standards!”
“But… you were willing to send me to Lima?”
“I knew it would never come to that, John. President Cavanaugh couldn’t permit it. I knew he’d intervene.”
“Stuart, you’re not telling something here. You had an ace up your sleeve somewhere, because you had to know there was still a chance some judge would grant extradition and the Italian government would comply.”
Campbell nodded. “Very well. I knew your legal team would eventually realize that with Peru failing all the tests for humane treatment of prisoners, you could hardly be sent there. And Reinhart did catch on… with a little help from your State Department.”
John Harris studied the carpet and took a deep breath. “Well, Stuart, in the interest of full disclosure, what I did to block you at the U.N. was personal for me, too. Someone had to cut you down a notch.”