At 10:40 they were led into his grand office where he greeted them warmly and showed them seats around the table. He was a pure New Yorker, from Brooklyn, and loved everything about his city. His walls were adorned with banners and pennants for all sports teams. No decent politician could play favorites and expect to be re-elected in New York. Lake was about sixty, fit, hyper, energetic, and always ready for a good scrap.
It was his office, his turf, so he would direct the conversation. “I appreciate your coming, fellas, but we could’ve done this by phone. I understand what’s at stake.”
Jack said, “I know. She’s Italian and British, Senator, so she’s not technically one of us. But she is. She’s a part of Scully, and though we have offices around the world, Scully is and always has been an American firm. A New York firm. She spent one summer as an intern at Skadden, in the city. She has a law degree from Virginia. Her English is better than mine. We’d like for you, and the State Department, to consider Giovanna as one of us, practically an American.”
“Got it, got it, got it. I spoke to Madam Secretary again yesterday. Believe me, Jack, they are taking this very seriously. Daily briefings here and over there. Contacts galore. Nobody is asleep here, Jack. But the problem is that nobody knows anything. Some nasty boys have their hands on her, but so far they’re not talking. Am I right?”
Jack nodded and looked grimly at Benson.
The senator glanced at some notes and continued, “According to our people, and mind you our people are not exactly welcome in Libya so we have to rely on the Brits, Italians, and Israelis for intel, but what we’re hearing is that some insurgent militia of desert rats run by a thug named Barakat is, more than likely, calling the shots. They have Ms. Sandroni but haven’t made contact yet. As you know, there was some initial speculation that Gaddafi might be behind the abduction, but our people don’t believe it.”
Mitch felt as though he was sitting through another briefing by Darian Kasuch. Could he please hear something new?
Jack had cautioned him that the meeting would seem to be a waste of time, but Senator Lake could be crucial later on.
To impress them, the senator retrieved a classified memo from his desk. It was top secret, of course, so confidentiality all around. The raid two nights earlier, the one the Libyans were crowing about, was a total disaster for them. According to the CIA, which trusted the senator with all manner of sensitive material, the Libyan Army lost far more men than the enemy and had to pull back after a brutal counterattack.
More than likely, this had nothing to do with Giovanna, but since the senator had the information he felt compelled to share it. Confidentially, of course.
There were clocks on three of the walls, just so his visitors would know that his time was crucial, his days planned to perfection, and at exactly 11:00 a secretary knocked on the door. Lake pretended to ignore her and kept talking. She knocked again, opened it slightly, and said, “Sir, your meeting is in five minutes.”
He nodded without interrupting his line of chatter and she withdrew. He talked on as if his visitors were far more important than the crucial meetings that followed. The first interruption was for show and designed to make the visitors feel uncomfortable and want to leave. The second interruption was just as scripted and occurred five minutes later when the chief of staff knocked as he entered. He held paperwork that could prove, if ever examined, that things needed to run on schedule and the senator was already late. The chief of staff smiled at Jack, Mitch, and Benson, and said, “Thank you, gentlemen. The senator has a meeting with the vice president.”
Which vice president, Mitch wondered? VP of the Rotary Club? The nearest branch bank?
The senator kept talking as his visitors rose and headed for the door. He promised to stay on top of the situation and contact Jack if there were any developments. Blah, blah, blah. Mitch couldn’t wait to leave.
Lunch was a sandwich in a cafeteria somewhere under the Capitol.
At 1 P.M. they met with a lawyer from the Office of the Legal Adviser to the secretary of state. He was a former Scully associate in the Washington office who had burned out and left private practice. Benson had hired him out of law school and they had maintained a friendship. He claimed to have strong contacts with the deputy secretary of state and was monitoring the hallway gossip. He found it hard to believe that a Scully associate could be abducted.
Crossing the Potomac on the way back to the airport, Mitch was a team player and agreed that the day went well. To himself, he vowed once again to avoid Capitol Hill if at all possible.
Chapter 19
The United Arbitration Board was headquartered on the fifth floor of the Palais de Justice in downtown Geneva. Its twenty judges came from around the world and served five-year terms, with the chance of being re-appointed for an additional term. Seats on the bench were quite prestigious, often lobbied for, and were doled out through the United Nations. The UAB’s docket was a dizzying collection of civil disputes from all over. Governments fighting each other; corporations from different countries suing each other; individuals seeking vast sums from foreign companies and governments. About half the cases were heard in Geneva, but the board was quick to take its show on the road. Travel was first-class, as were the expense accounts. If Cambodia wanted to sue Japan, for example, it made little sense to require the lawyers and witnesses to set up camp in Geneva, so the board would pick a more convenient venue in Asia, preferably one near a fashionable resort.
Luca had filed Lannak’s claim against Libya the prior year, in October of 2004, and requested a trial in Geneva. The chair of the board, known as the ruling magistrate, agreed.
Now she wanted a reschedule, a nuisance in every lawyer’s opinion but not an uncommon one. Mitch was of the opinion that the board was curious about the case because of its sudden notoriety. Virtually all of the other cases on its docket were exceedingly boring disputes from the other side of the world. Nothing could match a half-billion-dollar fight that involved a bridge in the desert, four beheadings, several related murders, and the saga of a missing Scully associate. When Mitch first received the notice to appear for the reschedule, he thought seriously about asking for a postponement, which was standard practice. A thirty- to ninety-day continuance would have been granted. However, after conversations with Lannak, it was agreed that the hearing in Geneva would be a better time and place to meet and discuss the lawsuit.
Mitch and Stephen flew to Rome and visited with Luca in his villa. Two weeks had passed since Giovanna’s abduction and there was still no word from her captors. The days were getting no easier for Luca. He seldom ate or slept and was losing weight. He was due for another round of chemo but simply wasn’t up to it. He was bickering with his doctors and unhappy with the home nurses. He was, however, pleased to see Mitch and even had a glass of wine, his first in days.
With Roberto Maggi, the team spent two hours in Luca’s home office going over strategies, then flew to Geneva where they met the men from Lannak: Omar Celik, the CEO and grandson of Lannak’s founder; Denys Tullos, his chief lawyer and Mitch’s principal contact; and Omar’s son, Adem, a graduate of Princeton and the future owner of the company. They were not Muslim and enjoyed alcohol. After cocktails in the hotel bar, they walked to a restaurant and settled in for the evening. Joining them late was Jens Bitterman, a Swiss lawyer who was part of the team and handled the dealings with the UAB.