Harris spotted General Glueck and nodded to him.
Before I leave here, I want to shake the hand of each and every one of you, and I especially want to thank General Glueck for leading this heartwarming show of support. I want you to know that this is not just me personally you’ve been defending, but the ability of every former president to travel the world without fear of arrest on trumped-up charges. And… being a veteran myself from a slightly younger generation, I want you to know how much I honor your service and sacrifices, and that goes equally for all you twenty-two men and our one female Marine veteran, Virginia MacCabe, over there, plus the spouses and lovers who’ve stood by you, and the three children and one grandchild who’ve come along on this trip.
He replaced the microphone to applause as General Glueck approached. “You’re certain you don’t need us to come along, sir? I’ve polled everyone. We’re ready.”
John Harris put a hand on the general’s shoulder. “No, I’ll be fine from here.”
“Go home, Mr. President, as fast as possible. Please.”
Harris nodded. “I want to, believe me.” He shook Glueck’s hand and turned to the others, greeting each in turn and hugging several of the older vets before turning to the Navy commander who escorted him through the door and onto the ramp.
“Thank you so very much, Captain,” John Harris said, shaking his hand. “I’d better get moving.”
“Yes, sir, but I think we’ve got things under control. It could be a premonition, but for some reason I predict we’re going to have a little maintenance problem with the outside phone lines into the base. Too bad, too, because we just won’t be able to receive any phone calls from Rome until it’s fixed.”
“Why, that could take hours,” Harris said, smiling.
“Yes, sir, it sure could,” Swanson replied.
“Thank you, Captain,” John Harris said. The naval officer turned and started up the aisle before stopping and turning around.
“Ah, Mr. President. A personal note?”
“Yes?”
“When you left office like you did… honoring your dedication to the idea of a six-year term… it made me feel ashamed, because…”
“I’m truly sorry to have disappointed you, Captain,” Harris replied, interrupting him.
Swanson’s eyebrows shot up in alarm as he raised his hand in a stop gesture. “No, no! Not ashamed of you, sir. I was ashamed of me… because I didn’t vote for you. Your refusal to run again was the most inspiring thing I ever saw a President do.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
In normal circumstances, the plush surroundings of the multi-room hotel suite provided by the Deputy Prime Minister’s office would have riveted Jay Reinhart’s attention for at least an hour. His love of antiques and fine furniture usually dictated a happy search for the pedigree of each piece in a well-furnished room. Instead, fatigue and the surreal nature of the mission had already numbed him to the luxurious surroundings.
Jay dropped his roll-on bag in the entryway and went to the bedroom to plop down on the king-size bed in deep thought.
So now what, Kemosabe?
Sherry Lincoln had called him when he was in the car on the way to the hotel to report their imminent departure.
“I’m nervous,” he’d told her, “about bringing the President to London until I’m sure what this government is thinking, but I agree you’d better get out of there.”
“We’re starting engines now,” Sherry said, falling silent for a few seconds as the whine of jet engines rose in the background. “Can you tell me exactly what you’re afraid of, Jay?”
“Well…” he began, gauging how much of the swirling doubt to share with her. “I’m not afraid that London would send him to Lima as fast as Italy might have done, but… there’s a lot of discretion in the British extradition process and it scares me. If this government for some reason decided they wanted or needed to extradite him, they might just succeed. I just don’t know their attitude, and I can’t risk guessing.”
“You sound tired, Jay,” she said suddenly. “Are you okay?”
“I’m… ah…” he started to reply.
“I know it’s presumptuous of me to ask,” she continued, “since we’ve never met.” Her voice was exceptionally soothing, and he found himself almost forgetting that she’d just asked a question.
“What? Oh, no, Sherry. That’s not presumptuous at all. I mean, I appreciate your asking.”
“So, what is the answer?” she prompted.
“Ah, the answer is ‘no,’ I can’t be tired, because I’ve only been up about twenty-eight hours now. I’m just marginally incoherent,” he insisted.
“Well, you can collapse in a minute,” she said, “but right now I need to give you the number for this plane’s satellite phone, since the GSM phones we’ve been using won’t work in the air. This is the one the cockpit crew will answer.”
Jay grabbed a notepad from the bed behind him and took the number down. “I can reach you in flight on this?” he asked.
“Yes,” Sherry replied. “By the way, our estimated arrival time at Heathrow is five-thirty P.M. your time. It’s an hour later here in Italy. Are you going to meet us there? Or what do you suggest we do on arrival?”
“I’ll call you in flight with instructions.”
“And what if we don’t hear from you?”
“Then… tell the President it’s his choice, but if no one stops you, refuel immediately and go on to Iceland, refuel there, and head as fast as possible for Maine. But, Sherry, you can depend on my being there.”
“I was hoping you’d say that. I’ll be looking forward to meeting you in person.”
“Me, too. You, I mean.” He replaced the receiver and sat quietly for a moment, balancing the need to hear from the Deputy Prime Minister’s office with the need to call the solicitor he’d hired, Geoffrey Wallace, to find out what he’d discovered. Wallace had yet to phone him back.
Jay punched in the number to Wallace’s office.
“He’s out at the moment,” Wallace’s secretary said. “But I’m sure he’ll be calling you, Mr. Reinhart.”
He thanked her and disconnected just as the room phone rang.
“Mr. Reinhart? Would you hold please for Ambassador Jamison?”
“I’m sorry, who?”
“Ambassador Richard Jamison, sir. American Ambassador to Great Britain.”
“Oh. Of course,” Jay replied, trying to pull up a mental image of Jamison, whose picture he’d seen quite often on television over the years.
Why is he calling me? Jay wondered as a small shadow of guilt crept into the periphery of his thoughts. Should I have called him as John Harris’s attorney?
“Mr. Reinhart. We haven’t met, but I wanted to thank you personally for what you’ve been doing for President Harris.”
“Certainly, Mr. Ambassador. I’m his lawyer, after all.”
“I understand. Can you tell me when he’ll be arriving in London? I’ve been briefed by Washington to expect him sometime this evening.”
“Actually,” Jay began, caution slowing his response, “I’m not certain yet. Is… that why you’re calling?”
“Well, there are two main reasons,” the ambassador said, his voice crisp and tinged by a hint of New England.
“First, we need to compare notes on what you intend to do, and second, I need to let you know that the team from Washington should be here in about two hours.”