Headwind

THIRTY-EIGHT

It was past midnight when Jay Reinhart, Sherry Lincoln, and Michael Garrity left the President in his room, with Secret Service Agent Matt Ward camped out in a connecting room.

In the hallway, Garrity bade them goodnight and headed for the stairway and his car, leaving Jay and Sherry to walk to the elevator alone.

“I’m going to recheck those flights before going to sleep,” she said.

Jay nodded. “The first one’s at ten?”

“Yes. That’s the Aer Lingus flight.”

“If they can’t get the warrant for an arrest here in Dublin, they’re not going to manage it by the time he gets to Shannon. We just need to get him to the airport around nine, not too early, not too late. We can buy the ticket quietly at that point. In theory, it should work. Without an arrest warrant, neither the Garda nor immigration has any justification for refusing him access to the flight.”

“That makes sense,” she said. “I’ll wake him on time.”

There was a bench seat opposite the elevators and they both sank onto it.

“You look exhausted, Jay,” she said with a weary smile.

He smiled back. “I am, but it’s as much from worry as real fatigue, I think. I… I just don’t want to screw this up.”

“Me either,” she said, pausing awkwardly to look away at the elevators. “He’s a good man, Jay.”

“I know.”

“I’ve worked for him for four years, and he’s one of the most decent, thoughtful…”

“Let me stop you, Sherry. I know all the superlatives, and I agree with all of them. We should… spend some time together telling each other John Harris stories when this is over,” he said with a laugh.

She nodded. “I’d like that. It was a real comfort, by the way, hearing your voice so reassuring on the other end of the phone, especially during the first hours of this mess.”

He laughed. “You wouldn’t have been reassured if you’d seen my alleged command post in Laramie, Wyoming.”

“Oh?”

“How about a kitchen counter with a land line and a cell phone and a bathrobe?”

“A bathrobe?” she smiled, cocking her head.

He hesitated, looking more directly into her eyes than he’d done before.

She’s really beautiful, he thought, validating the first impression he’d refused to let himself pursue.

“Yeah. A bathrobe,” he said. “It’s a long story.”

“I may want to hear that story. Sounds edgy, practicing law in your bathrobe.”

“Keeps the judges completely off-balance,” he chuckled, remembering the nearly fatal flight to Denver. “That was perhaps the most surreal experience I’ve ever had, trying to get on top of this situation for John from Laramie, trying to stay in touch, dealing with people at a level I’d never experienced.” The memory of his front door slamming when Linda left replayed momentarily, but he chased it from his thoughts.

“You mean at the White House?” she asked.

“Yes, and the State Department, and the Justice Department, not to mention the later encounter with the British Government. I’m still not so sure this isn’t some wild nightmare induced by an evening of debauchery at a Mexican restaurant.”

“They have Mexican restaurants in Laramie?” she asked.

“They think they do. Actually, it’s pretty good Tex-Mex.”

“How is this going to end, Jay?”

He locked eyes with her again, feeling another small flutter before realizing she was focused on John Harris, not him.

“I wish I knew. If we can get him on the way home, you’ve got a public relations battle ahead as to why and how he left Ireland, I suppose.”

“We can handle it. John Harris is well loved back home.”

Jay nodded. “But if we can’t get him out of Dodge, this could end up an extended stay in Ireland, although I’m very confident Peru isn’t going to shoehorn him out of here.”

“I guess that’s what I wanted to hear,” she said. “That you’re confident about the ultimate outcome.”

“I had some momentary doubt in that London courtroom when Campbell dropped the bombshell about the tape, but I kept telling myself that John Harris’s character didn’t change in the Oval Office. I couldn’t imagine his accepting such a proposition.”

“Torture and killing, in other words?”

“Absolutely,” Jay said. “This is a man who believes in the death penalty only to rid society of the most evil of two-footed animals, even though morally it hurts him to the core that taking life is the only rational solution in extreme cases. He cares so much…”

She raised her hand. “Now you’re playing my song.”

He laughed easily, aware of how very relaxed he felt in her presence. “I am at that.” He looked at his watch. “Sherry, I think…”

She was already getting to her feet and reaching out to take his hand in what began as a perfunctory handshake and became something else when he reached for her other hand, holding both of them, their eyes meeting for a few seconds.

Reluctantly, he let go of her hands to punch the elevator button. The doors opened almost immediately, and they walked in a little awkwardly, Jay bidding her good night on the second floor as he continued to the third and his room, his thoughts temporarily sidetracked from matters of law and treaties.

And, for some reason he couldn’t pinpoint, all efforts to find a mental image of Linda back in Laramie were failing, as was his usually well-tuned capacity for guilt when he thought about Karen.

For the first time since his wife’s death, the familiar, gut-wrenching pain that hit him every time he thought about her had disappeared. In its place was a simple, sweet sadness. Why? Maybe he was just too tired, or too wrapped up in the problem at hand. Or maybe he was ready to take the advice he’d been so tired of hearing, that it was time to get on with his life.

Jay put his suit on a hanger, pulled off the rest of his clothes, and brushed his teeth before falling into bed. He was sleepily luxuriating in the feel of the sheets when he remembered he had one final item of unfinished business to complete.

He forced himself back up, sitting naked sideways on the bed as he pulled out a Dublin phone book and looked for hotel listings.

None of the names jumped out at him.

He called the night clerk at the front desk.

“I need to know which Dublin hotel is the best, most plush, most expensive, and best thought of in Ireland.”

“Good heavens, sir, you’re not happy with us then?”

He laughed as he rubbed his eyes. “No, no, no! I’ve got to locate someone who would only look for the most expensive lodging. This is a lovely hotel.”

“Well that’s a relief, that is. You have to be talking about the Shelbourne Hotel, and it is lovely. Is your friend American?”

“British.”

“Oh, then most certainly he’d be there. Hang on and I’ll ring them.”

When the Shelbourne’s operator answered, Jay asked for Stuart Campbell’s room, unsurprised when there was no hesitation. An unfamiliar voice answered and he could hear more voices in the background, a fact that instantly reignited the earlier gnawing feeling that he was shirking his duties to be considering sleep.

“This is Stuart Campbell.”

“Jay Reinhart, Sir William.”

“Ah, yes! Mr. Reinhart. Some impressive footwork tonight, eh?”

“Look, we’re both preparing for battle, but I have one official notification I must give you. Actually, two.”

“Go ahead.”

“First, I formally request that you notify me immediately if you in any way arrange contact with a judge regarding any aspect of this matter, and certainly I demand to be present at any hearing, formal or informal, concerning the same, and I’ll pass you both my cellular GSM number and the hotel I’m in.”

“Of course, Mr. Reinhart. There was never any question of that. I shall notify you in accordance with the rules, have no fear.”

“I have a lot of fear, Sir William, because of the nature of your client, but the other matter is… and I realize neither of us had time to connect in London… but I need a copy of that tape, and I shall object vociferously and loudly in every possible forum if you do not provide me with a copy for advance scrutiny.”

“Actually, I’ve had a little time to consider the matter, and I’m inclined to agree that you should see it. Give me your hotel information and I’ll have a copy delivered tomorrow afternoon or evening.”

“The earlier the better.”

“Mr. Reinhart, the format of the tape is very specialized, and it takes special equipment to dub it. I have a camera that can play it, but I’m not sure I can dub tapes with it. However, I’m confident you shall have a copy by tomorrow evening at the latest. Shall we say in standard VHS format?”

“Yes.”

“Very well. Burning the midnight oil there, too, are you?”

Jay hesitated, irritation fighting guilt over the truth of the answer. “Absolutely. Goes with the territory.”

“Indeed. Well, good night to you, such as it is.”

Jay replaced the receiver carefully, replaying the words in his mind and searching for second and third levels of meaning. Perhaps he should stay up and study, but study what? It all came down to what was on that tape, and until he could view it for himself, all he could do was let Garrity and the as yet unseen solicitor take the lead. Besides, he needed the physical strength and renewed mental energy a few hours’ sleep would give him.

He set the nightstand alarm for 6 A.M. and turned out the light, falling asleep almost instantly.