“Mr. President, I have no specific orders from Washington or my commander at the moment. I’m trying to figure out what to do.”
“Are they closing in on us?” Harris asked.
Captain Swanson shook his head. “They’re still respecting the flight line. That one car that came through is mine. I wanted it standing by.”
“I was worried about that,” Sherry said.
“Sir,” the Navy commander said, “the way I see it, right now we have a standoff. Unless the Italians change their minds, they’re going to leave this ramp alone, and this fellow Campbell…”
“William Stuart Campbell, Captain. World-class international lawyer from the U.K., a Knight of the British Empire, and a very substantial adversary.”
“Understood. Unless the Italians cave, he’ll be held at bay as long as you’re out here.”
“In this airplane, you mean?”
“Yes, sir.”
“But this is a civilian airliner, and Captain Dayton here needs to get these passengers back to Rome. Is there a place I could safely stay on base?”
The Navy Captain shook his head, looking cornered. “No… sir. I mean, I’d put you up in admiral’s quarters in a second, but the accommodations are not on the flight line, and worse, they’re at the other base, NAS-One. To get you there we’d have to transport you through civilian Italian landscape where we have zero jurisdiction. The only place I can protect you is the flight line. The ramp. Here.”
“Captain Dayton,” Harris said, turning to Craig, “what if I personally paid for transportation for all these passengers wherever they want to go, and chartered this aircraft from EuroAir?”
“Chartered…” Craig asked, his mind flashing through the probability of Frankfurt agreeing to such a plan.
“Yes. Chartered. At premium rates, so we have a place to stay for at least a few hours. Captain Swanson? If I could charter this bird and the crew, can I leave with them?”
“I… hadn’t thought about it, Mr. President. I guess the question is whether the Italian authorities would try to stop you the moment you taxied out of here.”
“What’s your best guess?”
“I wouldn’t have one, sir, at this point. Not one I’d want you to stake your freedom on.”
Craig turned toward the front of the plane lost in thought. He moved rapidly back to the cockpit, where Alastair was watching the C-17 disappear around the corner of the terminal.
“Get Frankfurt on the satellite phone for me.”
“What? Are we throwing ourselves on the mercy of the chief pilot then?”
“No. We’re going to charter ourselves.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Just… make the call and hand it to me.”
The live coverage from Sigonella had included a spectacular shot of the C-17 lifting off and banking immediately toward the west, literally disappearing into a beautiful sunset. The media knew that John Harris had been aboard the 737, and they knew that only a few mechanics and Navy personnel had entered or left the Boeing, but despite the absence of any video of John Harris leaving the EuroAir jet, the anchor in Atlanta was actively mentioning the possibility that John Harris had just departed, escaping whatever threatened arrest had been in the offing.
Jay looked at the phone again, a plan forming suddenly in his mind. He opened the cell phone and punched in the number for the White House Situation Room. They would be formulating a public response, and he might have only seconds.
EIGHTEEN
The telephone some six thousand miles distant was answered on the first ring.
“Mr. Reinhart? Jay? This is Sherry Lincoln.”
“Thank heavens, Sherry. There’s a lot to tell you and I’m holding with the White House right now on another line. Where is the President?”
“Sitting next to me. Why?”
“In first class?”
“Yes.”
“Who on that base knows he’s still there?”
“I… what do you mean?”
“Who knows? Who’s seen him? He hasn’t stepped out the front door, has he, where anyone could spot him?”
“No. I suppose… uh, let’s see. Other than those of us on the aircraft, the Navy commander, Captain Swanson and several of his aides, that’s about it.”
“Is Swanson still there?”
“Yes. He’s talking on his phone.”
“Please ask him not to talk to anyone about the President’s presence on the aircraft. And keep him hidden.”
“Who? The President? I don’t understand.”
“Yes. Keep the President hidden. Do the passengers know he’s aboard?”
“They all did, but… I don’t know.”
“Listen very closely, please. Since the C-17 started engines, have any of the passengers seen him in your airplane?”
“He’s been in his seat the whole time, and the curtain to coach is closed, and there are no other passengers in first class. Why?”
“Please, take the President to the… I don’t know, maybe the forward galley. That’s a 737?”
“Yes.”
“Then get him in the forward galley without the coach passengers seeing him, and pull the curtain, if they have one, then ask the captain to get the rest of the passengers off the airplane, if he will. Also, do you have a cell phone I could reach there while you’re on the ground?”
“Ah… yes, as a matter of fact. I forgot. Let me turn it on.” She passed the number to him while she pulled it from her purse and hit the “on” button.
“Okay, Jay, I’m still not sure what you’re planning.”
“Please, just do what I’m asking, and get the Navy commander on this phone… and make sure the flight crew doesn’t tell anyone he’s still there.”
Sherry took a deep breath and lowered the receiver as she took in John Harris’s puzzled expression and made the decision to act before explaining. She put the phone on the seat and jumped up to find Captain Swanson in the entryway.
“Why?” Swanson asked her when she relayed the requests.
“I don’t know yet, but this comes from his attorney. Wait a sec.” The cockpit door was ajar and she opened it to see Alastair Chadwick handing a telephone handset to the captain, who turned and stopped as she entered.
“Sherry?”
She raised a finger to her lips and pointed to the phone, and Craig covered the transmitter with his hand. “What’s up?”
“The President’s lawyer is asking that you please reveal to no one that he’s still aboard. You haven’t, have you?”
“No,” Craig replied, looking at Alastair, who shook his head as well.
“Please don’t. I’ll be right back.”
“What is he thinking?” Craig asked.
“I don’t know,” Sherry said as she turned.
Craig pulled at her sleeve as she turned to go. “Wait! I was just getting ready to try to charter this aircraft as President Harris asked.”
“Hold off. Please!” Sherry said, turning to leave again and pulling the cockpit door closed behind her.
Craig sighed and shook his head as he raised the handset and promised the director of flight operations he’d call back in a few minutes.
“Bang on!” Alastair said suddenly when the connection had been broken. His face brightened into a broad smile.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Bang on, I said.”
“I know what you said. It’s what you meant that has me baffled. More Britspeak?”
“It means how bloody clever! They couldn’t get the President on that C-17, but if they pretend they did, the men with the warrant go away.”
“Pretend…”
“Yes. Pretend! He’s not here, eh what? He sneaked out in plain view. We could probably fly back to Rome, discharge everyone, and go happily on our way and no one would pay the slightest attention to his presence. Of course, they’ll be there to shoot us, but that’s another story.”