A Far Justice (39 page)

FORTY-THREE

The Hague

Catherine was frightened as the taxi nudged through the crowd surrounding
the Palace. A protestor banged his sign off the roof and yelled an obscenity in German. “Where are the police?” the Dutch driver said in English. “There are times when I’m ashamed of my country.”

“I have the same problem,” Hank grumbled. The driver stopped at the security barrier to the rear entrance where four very troubled guards refused to wave the cab through. “Looks like they’re better at keeping people out than in.” Hank got out and partially closed the door. “Cathy, all things considered, it’s time to get the hell out of Dodge. I think you’d be safer at home, in the States.”

She pushed the door open and got out. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” She glared at the guards who split apart and let them enter.

As usual, Aly was waiting in the office with the morning newspapers and coffee. “You’d think Gus is the most dangerous man on the face of the earth,” she said, dumping the newspapers in front of Hank. He glanced at the headlines. “Isn’t your government going to do anything?”

“Aly, I just don’t know.” He glanced at the clock. “Time to go.”

The courtroom went silent as Hank and Aly took their places at the defense table.

“Good morning, Madame Prosecutor,” Hank said. Denise ignored him and looked straight ahead. The spectators buzzed in anticipation but quieted as the clerk announced the judges’ entrance. Hank studied Richter and Della Sante, trying to read them as Bouchard went through the opening ritual.

Bouchard cleared his throat and looked at Hank over the top of his reading glasses. “As you may know, this chamber met over the weekend in its efforts to achieve a verdict. We are nearing that goal. However, the escape of the defendant at this point creates an unprecedented situation that the framers of the Rome Statute did not anticipate and therefore must be clarified. Madam Prosecutor, do you wish to address the court before we continue?”

A very subdued Denise stood. “The prosecutor only wishes to remind the court that flight by the defendant presupposes the assumption of guilt by the defendant.” She sat down and Bouchard nodded at Hank.

Hank stepped to the podium. “If it may please the court …”

Bouchard interrupted him. “It does not.” Applause swept through the audience.

Hank handed a blue-covered petition to the clerk. “Article Sixty-three of the Rome Statute requires the accused to be present during the trial. Without the defendant’s presence, we cannot continue here.” He sat down.

Bouchard allowed a little smile. “The court has anticipated your petition and is ready to rule.” He started to read. “The absence of the accused by virtue of his escape, after testimony by witnesses, evidence presented, and final arguments made, does not preclude the trial chamber from rendering a verdict in his absence. In fact, to not do so would be a lapse of our judicial duty.” He glanced at Denise before continuing. “However, the court cannot impose a sentence as long as the defendant remains
in absentia
.”

The side door burst open and one of the court’s security guards scurried up to the clerk’s table. He whispered in the clerk’s ear as his eyes kept darting at the three judges. For a moment, the clerk stared at him, not fully comprehending what he was hearing. The massive double doors at the rear swung open and every head pivoted.

Gus walked in wearing his uniform.

His medals and service ribbons were carefully in place under his pilot’s wings, his shoes buffed to a bright shine, and his hair cut short in a military style. There was no doubt a warrior was in the courtroom. Jason followed close behind with three of his fellow security policemen. The four men were not in uniform but dressed in dark suits with carefully knotted red ties. Jason closed the doors behind them and the four men stood easily by, guarding the door.

Gus took six steps and halted when he reached Toby Person. He threw his old comrade-in-arms a sharp salute before continuing down the aisle. Every eye followed him but instead of stepping into the dock, he joined Hank and Aly at the defense table. Gus nodded at the bench. “Your Honors, I apologize for being late.” He sat down.

The clerk hit the panic button under his table and the side door burst open as six of the court’s security force charged through. They headed straight for Gus. “Halt!” Jason ordered. The six men skidded to a stop and looked at each other. “We’re not armed,” Jason reassured them, opening his coat. While the guards carried Mace and radios, the court did not allow them weapons. Jason jerked his head at the side door, his face hard. It was an unspoken command to leave. They quickly retreated, not willing to challenge the Americans. The first security guard, who was still standing beside the clerk, looked at Bouchard whose face had gone deathly pale. The guard glanced over his shoulder as his six companions disappeared out the door. He hurried to join them.

“Please continue,” Gus said, his voice full of command.

Bouchard’s mouth opened but no words came out. Saliva dribbled out the corner of his mouth and he slumped forward. Della Sante was at his side immediately. “Call the medics!” she ordered.

“I’m a doctor,” Toby said. He was out of his seat and hobbled to the bench where he leaned over the comatose Bouchard. “He’s suffering a stroke.” He started CPR as pandemonium broke out among the spectators.

Marci was on the TV, splitting the screen with Liz Gordon in New York. “I have never witnessed anything so electrifying in my entire career. Gus Tyler’s entrance was a moment timed to perfection and a challenge to the court’s authority. Yet at the same time, he was yielding to the court, but on his own terms.”

“Where is he and what is happening right now?” Gordon asked.

“Colonel Tyler is in the defense counsel’s offices with Hank Sutherland and four bodyguards led by his son. The Reverend Person is reported also to be with them. Justice Bouchard is in the hospital and the latest report indicates he suffered both a heart attack and a stroke. He is in critical condition and not expected to survive. The Dutch police refuse to enter the palace and claim it is beyond their jurisdiction. However, the court’s own security guards, who are not allowed to carry weapons, want nothing to do with Colonel Tyler’s son and his bodyguards. I might add that all four are huge men and Jason Tyler is an overpowering force in himself. These are men no one wants to trifle with.”

“So is this a standoff of some type?” Gordon asked.

“I’m not sure. The two judges, Della Sante and Richter, have met with the presidency of the court and are now closeted with President Relieu. We can only assume they are going ahead and are still considering a verdict.”

“I think it is safe to say that there is definitely more to come,” Gordon said.

“Indeed there is, Liz. This is Marci Lennox standing by in The Hague.” They were off the air.

“Marci,” Gordon said, still maintaining the downlink, “good work. We’re out in front on this one and swamping CNN, Fox, and the other networks. An interview with Person will bury them.” She checked her watch. “Make it happen in ninety minutes and it will lead the news tonight. We’re talking a ratings blow out.”

“I can do that,” Marci said.

Aly was back from the canteen pushing a cart laden with sandwiches, salads, and drinks. “Lunch,” she sang. She maneuvered through the crowded office passing out the food. She stopped beside Toby. “How are you feeling? I have some hot soup if you would prefer that.”

“My fever broke over the weekend and I’m weak as a kitten but feeling much better. Soup would be fine.” She handed him a bowl.

“Did you hear anything at the canteen?” Catherine asked.

“No one really knows anything but everyone has an opinion. I did hear that Della Sante asked for the verdict guidelines, but I don’t know what that means.”

“It means,” Hank replied, “that they’ve reached a decision.” He paced the floor and stopped at the window overlooking the forecourt. “Look at that. It’s deserted.”

“Everyone is holding their breath,” Gus said.

“Gus,” Hank said, “whose idea was it that you come back?”

“All mine,” Gus answered. “I wanted to show the bastards that I wasn’t afraid of them and make it clear that I’m not some common criminal.”

“Then you always intended to go back?” Catherine asked.

“No. But Max brought me up to speed on what was going down, and I had a quick change of plans.”

The phone buzzed and Aly picked it up. She listened for a few moments and hung up. “The court will reconvene at nine o’clock tomorrow morning.”

“That was fast,” Jason said.

The phone rang again and Aly answered. “Hank, she said, “please turn on your percom.” She dropped the phone into its cradle. “In private.”

“Was that Cassandra?” Hank asked.

“It was a woman with an American accent. I didn’t recognize the voice and the screen was blank.”

Hank beckoned for Catherine to follow him into his inner office. She closed the door behind them and moved out of the percom’s field of view. Hank opened the cover and a woman’s image came on the screen. But it was not the computer generated Cassandra. This was a very plain, very dowdy, middle-aged woman with salt and pepper streaked hair. “Cassandra?” he asked.

“This is the real me. Is Catherine with you?” Hank motioned his wife to join him. “There’s nothing more we can do to help which is why Mr. Westcot cut us off. But there are a few things you probably should know. Our ambassador to the UN submitted a resolution for the Security Council to censure France. It’s a dead issue and isn’t going anywhere, but it was enough to force the issue into the open and upset France’s applecart. The EU is making ominous noises and France is running for cover. The foreign minister, Henri Scullanois, along with his buddy, Chrestien Du Milan, are taking the fall on this one. The UN is actually showing some backbone and China is looking for a compromise.”

“What’s happening with the court?” Hank asked. “I don’t have a feel for it.”

“Our sense of the situation,” Cassandra said, “indicates they are cutting their losses and want to be rid of Gus, and you, the quicker the better.”

“Cassandra,” Catherine asked, “does Max Westcot know you’re talking to us?”

Cassandra shook her head. “I didn’t want to go without saying good-by.” The screen went blank.

“Why did she do that?” Hank wondered. “Westcot will probably fire her when he finds out.”

“Because she’s a woman,” Catherine answered. She wanted to tell him that Cassandra loved him, but she was certain he would not understand. They rejoined the others in the outer office. “Where’s Toby and Jason?” Catherine asked.

Aly looked up from her desk. “Toby’s down in the main courtroom doing a live interview with Marci Lennox. Jason went with him.”

“No harm in that,” Hank said.

Marci took her cue and looked directly into the camera. “I’m in the main courtroom of the International Criminal Court in the Hague with the Reverend Tobias Person.” The camera panned backed to include Toby sitting in his wheelchair with the judges’ bench in the background. “Reverend Person,” she began.

“Please call me Toby.”

Marci nodded. “Thank you, Toby, for talking to me. First, please let me extend my condolences, and those of my friends and colleagues for the recent loss of your wife and family. I know it must have come as a great shock when you learned your mission had been destroyed.”

Toby nodded. “Thank you, but it wasn’t a shock.”

Marci blinked, temporarily at a loss for words. “I don’t understand.”

“I live and work in a very dangerous part of the world, Marci. Everyone at Mission Awana knew the hazards and the dangers. We live with that knowledge everyday of our lives.”

“I know many of our viewers are wondering why you didn’t take your wife and family to safety when you could.”

Toby never hesitated. “Because that was their home, their world. D’Na, my wife, dedicated her life to making it a better place for her children. It was my privilege to be a part of that.”

“But it was only by chance that you were spared.”

Toby smiled gently. “I was spared because there is still work for me to do.”

“I noticed you did not say ‘The Lord’s work.’”

Again the smile. “I do believe that.”

“You must find it extremely disappointing that you came here for nothing.”

The camera zoomed in on Toby’s face as he fixed Marci with calm gaze that astounded her. “I believe there’s a lesson here for the world. If ever there was an innocent man, it is Gus Tyler. He fought a war that needs no justification. The facts speak for themselves, and fighting that war was simply the right thing to do.”

Above all, Marci was a journalist, not afraid to ask the hard questions, to follow the trail wherever it led. “But by defending Colonel Tyler, aren’t you justifying your participation in that war?”

“Marci, we were fighting to correct a terrible wrong when there was no other remedy. Yes, I killed the enemy. And yes, in doing that I killed innocent people who were simply caught up in the way of war. I carry that burden with me everyday of my life, as I carry the burden of my family’s death. But we accomplished our mission.” He gestured at the bench of justice with its three empty chairs. “There is no justice here, only a sad collection of people hiding behind a thin veneer of civilization, merely spectators to all the wrongs of the world. So in a pitiful attempt to soothe their consciences, and in the mistaken belief that war can be civilized, they judge those who were in the arena, fighting a war they could not.”