“Free? What do you mean free?” Dugan said. “I assumed you promised the bastard some sort of sentence reduction, but this is… this is…”
Anna sighed and reached for her phone. “I’m calling Ward over,” she said. “I don’t want to go over this with you more than once.”
“Full immunity,” Ward repeated two hours later. “All jurisdictions — UK, US, Turkey, Singapore, Panama, Indonesia, and Malaysia — and upon recovery, a private jet with a five thousand-mile range to take him anywhere he wants to go.”
“Where is he now?” Dugan asked.
“In an apartment in Kensington,” Anna said, “set up as a private hospital. The doctors specified a three-week convalescence. He’ll be released day after tomorrow.”
“So that’s it then,” Dugan said, “you just kiss him bye-bye at the airport, and you’re done. Karl Braun no longer exists. You don’t keep track of him?”
“He didn’t even bother to put that in the agreement,” Ward said, “because he knows we’ll try to track him. But he’s a slippery bastard, and somewhere there’ll be another plane waiting, or maybe a whole series of planes. When he hits the ground the first time, chances are we’ve lost him. If there’s a third cutout plane, or maybe two waiting at the same airport that go in different directions, we’re toast. I think losing him is a near certainty.”
“If he’s officially dead anyway,” Dugan asked, “why not just grease the bastard now?”
Ward looked at Anna, then back to Dugan. “Because it doesn’t work that way, Tom. The heads of state of seven countries have signed off on this. If it somehow leaked that either the US or UK reneged on a deal we ourselves brokered, it could have severe adverse consequences on future diplomatic efforts, even if the deal in question is with a murdering thug.”
Dugan sighed and picked up the written agreement from the coffee table.
“Tom,” Ward said, “you’re wasting your time with that. The State Department and Anna’s folks have had a dozen lawyers going over that agreement with a fine-tooth comb. Braun’s no fool. The agreement is very specific and airtight.”
Dugan ignored Ward and kept reading. After a while, he looked up, a slow smile spreading across his face.
“Now let me get this straight,” Dugan said to Ward. “You and Anna put him on the plane, and you’re done, right?”
“Essentially. But Tom,” Ward warned, “whatever you’re thinking won’t work. Our orders are to follow this agreement to the letter.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way, pal,” Dugan said.
“Off,” Braun said, extending cuffed wrists to Lou and Harry.
“Not yet,” Lou said as they rolled through security. Harry just glared.
“Idiotic,” Braun said, “but have your petty victory.”
Braun brightened as the limo rolled across the tarmac toward the plane, and he spied familiar figures. “Agent Ward. Agent Walsh. How nice of you to see me off,” he gushed as he was dragged from the car.
“Cut the crap, Braun,” Ward said.
“I suggest you lot cut the crap as well,” Braun said, holding up cuffed wrists. “You can start by telling these baboons to uncuff me.”
Anna nodded, and Lou uncuffed the German, none too gently.
“Much better,” Braun said, rubbing his wrists. “But now, if there’s nothing further, I’ll just be on my way.”
“Bon voyage,” Ward said.
Braun laughed and bounded up the short steps into the plane. As soon as he entered the plane, two large black men grabbed him by the arms, forced him into a seat, and cuffed his wrists to the armrests.
“What the bloody hell—”
A much-smaller, well-tailored black man stood looking down at him and spoke.
“Karl Enrique Braun,” he intoned. “You are under arrest for terrorist acts committed against the Liberian flag vessels M/T China Star and M/T Asian Trader on 4 July of this year. Under Liberian law, statements you make or have made can and will be used against you.”
“What is this nonsense?” Braun said. “I have immunity, you idiot. Now remo—”
“Actually, you don’t,” said a voice behind him, and Braun twisted his head to see Dugan walking up the aisle, rolled papers in his right hand tapping the open palm of his left.
“Meet Mr. Ernest Dolo Macabee,” Dugan said, nodding at the smaller black man, “Foreign minister of the Republic of Liberia.”
“I don’t give a damn who he is,” Braun said. “I have full immunity. Now—”
Dugan held up the papers. “Turns out you aren’t quite as bulletproof as you thought, Braun. There’s no mention of Liberia in this agreement.”
Braun sneered. “Your games don’t fool me, Dugan. The intent of the agreement was global immunity. I don’t believe for a moment your government will allow you to turn me over to these monkeys.”
Macabee stiffened. Smooth move, Karl, thought Dugan as he smiled down at Braun.
“The governments involved are following the agreement, Braun. To the letter, in fact. What’s happening isn’t covered by the agreement.”
“I HAVE FULL IMMUNITY!” Braun shouted.
“Alas, Mr. Braun, not in Liberia,” Macabee said as if lecturing a dull student. “But it’s not surprising we were overlooked. We have many ships under our flag and limited administrative resources. We invariably cede jurisdiction to the country where crimes occur or, if at sea, authorities in the next port. But we always retain the right to prosecute, if necessary. Justice must be served, Mr. Braun.” He paused. “Even ‘monkeys’ know that.”
“This is preposterous,” Braun said. “This will never hold up, Dugan. I was promised freedom and a plane to take me anywhere I wanted to go.”
“And you walked aboard this plane a free man,” Dugan said, “whereupon you were arrested by different authorities. And as far as the plane goes,” he continued, tapping the paper in his palm, “it says absolutely nothing about the ownership of the plane. It merely specifies range capability and that you will be transported to a destination of your choice.”
Dugan turned to Macabee.
“Mr. Minister,” he asked, “are you prepared to transport Mr. Braun from here to the destination of his choice before you return with him to Liberia?”
Macabee nodded. “Most assuredly, Mr. Dugan, though I regret he will be unable to deplane at his chosen destination.”
Dugan made a show of studying the agreement, enjoying himself.
“Hmm… nothing in here about deplaning,” he said.
Braun strained at the cuffs and screamed abuse. Macabee nodded to one of his men, who stifled the tirade with a piece of duct tape over Braun’s mouth.
“I will discuss Mr. Braun’s desired itinerary with him once we become airborne,” said Macabee. “May I have a word with you on the tarmac, Mr. Dugan?”
Dugan nodded and followed the dapper African down the short steps. As agreed, Ward and the Brits were long gone, having fulfilled their part of the agreement and left. On the tarmac, Macabee turned to face Dugan.
“Well, justice delayed is justice denied, so I’ll get Mr. Braun home,” he said, extending his hand. “However, I did not want to leave before thanking you and your government for the generous gift.”
Dugan gripped the man’s hand. “My pleasure, Mr. Minister, though please be discreet regarding the plane. Agent Ward had to call in a few favors from friends in the Drug Enforcement Agency. The transfer wasn’t completely according to Hoyle, but I’m sure you’ll make much better use of it than the drug smugglers from whom it was confiscated.”