Stuart Campbell looked startled. “Simple jealousy, then?”
John Harris nodded. “When you take away all the justifications and excuses, yes. And I regretted it through every day of the Pinochet circus. And I humbly apologize to you now.”
Stuart Campbell nodded his head slowly. “I accept your apology, John, and add one of my own.”
They sat in silence for the better part of a minute before John Harris shook his head. “We’re quite a pair, huh, Stuart?”
“Sorry?”
“Two legal titans involving the world in our private little shoving contest. Like two brothers fighting on the street corner, blissfully unaware that we’re upsetting the neighbors.”
For the first time, Campbell’s expression softened to a smile. “Yes, I suppose there’s some truth to that. Our motivations were hardly pure and lofty.”
Stuart Campbell let his gaze wander to the windows and the lengthening, reddening rays of the late afternoon sun, his thoughts soaring back to Scotland and his own boyhood, memories of the good battles of the brothers Campbell flashing in his mind. Harris’s analogy was closer to the truth than he wanted to admit.
“John, have you ever given a speech to some important world function, and found yourself mentally standing in the wings watching yourself, and wondering why all those important people were listening to the likes of you, because, in your mind, you’re still a pimply-faced fifteen-year-old?”
John Harris was nodding. “More times than I’ll ever admit.” He sat forward. “See, Stuart, when we strip away all the veneer and the fancy jargon and the cloak of noble purpose and official position, we are just a couple of overgrown boys doing a pretty good job of acting out our respective roles.”
Stuart nodded. “Which is a pretty apt description of life in general.”
From the moment Craig Dayton had walked into the restaurant, he’d tried to focus on enjoying the extraordinary company and the once-in-a-lifetime circumstance of dining with a grateful former world leader and a sitting cabinet secretary whom Harris had invited as well. That, coupled with Jillian sitting across from him looking incredibly beautiful in a shimmering white dress that traced and caressed the magnificent femininity of her body, gave him every reason to ignore whatever professional disaster tomorrow was going to bring.
Or so he kept telling himself.
But the effort was failing, and he could no longer hide his depression, so before the main course arrived, President Harris excused himself and asked Craig and Alastair to follow.
He led them to a corner of an empty banquet room.
“This is bad news, isn’t it?” Craig asked, unable to suppress the sick feeling inside.
“Well, that all depends,” John Harris said, his expression betraying nothing.
Alastair was trying to smile. “It’s certainly all right, sir. We didn’t expect you’d be able to influence a bunch of hard-nosed German managers to forgive such a stunt.”
“And what stunt would that be, Alastair?”
“Well…”
“You aren’t referring, are you, to the brave and heroic acts of a couple of airline pilots whose timely actions prevented the putative kidnapping of a former U.S. President?”
“And… who almost cashiered that same former President by running an airliner out of gas? Yes, that would be the stunt,” Alastair said, laughing ruefully.
“Well,” the President continued, “I guess we do have a problem if you want to see it that way, because I’ll need to call EuroAir’s chairman back and ask him to cancel the parade.”
“I’m sorry… what?” Craig asked.
John Harris smiled. “Relax, both of you. The airline you’re working for has just landed a brand-new contract for U.S. military charters, subject to passing the scrutiny of the air safety inspection people at Scott Air Force Base in Illinois. EuroAir seems rather ecstatic about that. And, after a serious chat with the Secretary of Defense and the Secretary of State, EuroAir has come to understand that it is in their best interests to be very proud of you, and very quiet about the magnificent demonstration of airmanship that followed a somewhat less laudatory fuel event.”
“Mr. President! You did that? I can’t believe it! You bloody well pulled it off!” Alastair said, his face ablaze with amazement as Craig grabbed John Harris’s hand and began to shake it.
“Thank you, sir! Thank you! Are you sure? I… I just…”
“Hey, take it easy fellows!” John Harris said, smiling. “The truth is, I’m the one who owes the thanks to both of you, and this was the absolute minimum I wanted to do. Now, let’s get back in there and enjoy the evening.”
It was nearly 9:30 P.M. when the President bade good night to Michael Garrity, Craig Dayton, and the rest, and walked in a different direction with Joe Byer.
“You said you’d heard from Washington about Reynolds,” John Harris probed.
“Yes, I did hear, and it’s pretty tawdry, Mr. President.”
“Tell me.”
“In brief? Reynolds was promised all the protection he needed, but he decided to make a side deal with Miraflores. It wasn’t just about delivering you; it was about money as well. In effect he sold out the Company and his president for the proverbial thirty pieces of silver, and he paid to have that tape made to perfect his scam by indicting you. I’m told he had it shot in Los Angeles.”
“Is Langley going to go after Reynolds legally?”
“I don’t know,” Byer said. “The spook business is a little out of my element, Mr. President. I’m just relaying what the CIA told us.”
After leaving the restaurant, Jay walked with Sherry Lincoln back to the Shelbourne a few blocks away.
“May I buy you a drink, kind sir?” she joked, gesturing to the hotel bar.
He checked his watch and smiled. “Sure. As long as I pay for it.”
“I guess that can be arranged,” she said, her eyes following his to the watch. “You’re going somewhere?” she asked.
“In a little while.”
“What’s her name?”
Jay laughed and shook his head. “No. Nothing like that. A cleanup professional matter is all.”
“Okay. Now I’m burning with curiosity.”
“What would you like to drink?”
“Nothing creative. A glass of some naive white zinfandel, I suppose,” she said. “And you?”
“Zinfandel is good.” He retrieved the wine and joined Sherry at a small table.
“When are you going back, Sherry?” he asked.
“To the U.S.? I don’t know. John hasn’t said, but I suspect he’ll want to wait a few days and decompress… since all of you seem very sure there’s no more legal danger in staying here.”
“Not in Ireland, at least.”
“Why were you asking?” she said, smiling.
Jay tried to feign innocence. “Oh, no reason.”
“I see.”
“Other than an idea that, maybe, I’d like to rent a car and see some of this beautiful country.”
“They drive on the wrong side of the road here, Jay.”
“I know. That’s why I need a copilot. You interested?”
Sherry smiled again, sending a warm wave of anticipation through him. “Oh, I’m interested, if the schedule permits. We’re talking two rooms for any overnights, right?”
“Of course, Sherry,” he said quickly. “I am a gentleman, you know.”
“Like I’ve never heard that line before,” she laughed. “Okay. Let me talk to the President in the morning and we’ll see. Maybe I could break loose for a few days. I’d like that, if John can spare me.”
“I really hope you can,” Jay said, looking directly into her eyes.
Sherry hesitated, her smile broadening as she replied softly, “So do I.”