by Don Brown
With a commotion of clumping feet, the Honorable Captain Thomas Norgaard, Judge Advocate General's Corps, United States Navy, entered the side door.
The white-haired and stocky military judge, wearing a service vice dress blue uniform, stood for a moment in front of his chair and, with eyes that swept the room through wire-rim glasses, rapped his gavel once on the bench. "Be seated. This court is called to order."
CHAPTER 51
Restaurante Sol Elite Galivanes
Port Mahon, Minorca
Balearic Islands
Western Mediterranean
Shannon McGillvery wasted no time making friends. Sometimes she even befriended people before she met them. Such was the case with Dan and Ben, whom she had contacted before leaving San Diego and whose last names she neither knew nor cared to know.
The only thing she really cared to know about these black-mustached, rippling-muscled Israelis was who their employer was.
Dan and Ben were Mossad agents.
Mossad, as an agency of the Israeli government, had a vested interest in disproving that the attack on the Dome was a Yankee-Israeli conspiracy against Islam.
Her new, no-last-name friends worked for the Mossad's Special Operations Division, known as Metsada. The official mission of Metsada: highly sensitive assassination, sabotage, paramilitary, and psychological warfare projects.
In other words, these guys were some bad customers.
They had waited for her in the lobby of the King David, and two hours later, they were on an Israeli-government Lear jet headed to Minorca. Their mission: to find the captain of the Bella Maria.
Carlos Ortega had been sleeping, or so it appeared, when Shannon, who had left Dan and Ben lurking in the shadows but watching her from a distance, showed up at his apartment.
Flashing her credentials as a U.S. Naval Criminal Investigative Service investigator, lavishing him with fluent Spanish, and slipping him five hundred U.S. dollars as an incentive, she suggested that he meet her in an hour for lunch.
He met her at Restaurante Sol Elite Galivanes, a quaint cafe located on a vista overlooking historic Port Mahon bay.
"We believe that the transmissions from the Bella Maria are related to the attack on the Dome of the Rock. We don't suspect you, but we need to question the two Arabs." She looked at him with puppy dog eyes and touched his arm. "Your cooperation would be deeply appreciated by the United States government. And by me."
"One, I believe, has left the island." Ortega seemed mesmerized and at the same time a bit nervous. "The other one is still here."
"Can you take me to him?" Her fingernails, covered by cherry red nail polish, made light circles on the top of his hand.
"Of course." She saw him swallow hard. "I can take you there now."
He dropped her off in front of the small stucco house where the Arab named Falik was staying. She kissed him on the cheek and told him that she would meet him tonight at Restaurante Sol Elite Galivanes, that she could handle this conversation on her own. She lied about tonight.
When he drove off, Dan and Ben drove up. The threesome walked together to Falik's door.
"Hi, I'm Shannon, and these are my friends Ben and Dan." A furtive flip of her strawberry blond locks. "We'd like to come in and chat for a few minutes, if that's okay?"
"Anna nee barraf Pahangliski."
"Nice try," Shannon said. "But I think you do speak English when you want. At least you know three words. Do the words Oscar, India, and Golf ring a bell?"
"Anna nee barraf Pahangliski."
"Oh, really now?" She cocked her head and gave him a smile. "Not to worry. My friend Dan here is a translator." She looked at the big-muscled Israeli in the tight black T-shirt. "Dan, could you help Mr. Falik here understand what I'm trying to tell him?"
"Yes, ma'am."
The Israeli smashed his knee into the Arab's groin. The man reeled, then fell on his back, moaning, on the kitchen floor. Shannon and the boys came into the house, slamming the door behind them. She bent over as Dan and Ben whipped out razor-sharp daggers and held the tips to the Arab's throat.
"Now, I believe you were saying something like, 'Anna nee barraf Pahangliski'?"
"Ooh." Falik grabbed his groin area. "What do you want?" His English was suddenly fluent.
"Oscar, India, Golf. What is it?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You know," she said, smiling, running her hand though his hair as though she cared about him, "my friend Ben here is an even better translator than Dan." She looked at Ben. "Ben?"
A smashing kick directly into the Arab's rib cage.
Falik grimaced and squirmed on the floor.
"Oscar India Golf, Mr. Falik?"
"I've never heard . . ."
A furious punch in the mouth drew blood, which streamed from the corner of his lips.
"You know, Mr. Falik, unfortunately, we American spies cannot do certain things." She paused. "For example, by law, we cannot assassinate, maim, or torture a terrorist dirtbag like you. We are so humane, we Americans."
She looked up at Dan. "You know, Dan, I think I might like a cup of hot tea? It is about that time, isn't it?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Would you do the honors?"
"A pleasure, ma'am."
Dan found a steel teapot, poured water into it, and struck a match, lighting the blue flame on top of Falik's stove.
"Anyway, where was I, Mr. Falik?" She pulled up a deck chair beside his supine position on the floor, crossed her legs, and rocked her pointed high heel in front of his face. "Oh yes. Now I remember. We American spies, because of our bleeding-heart, liberal Congress, can't have the type of fun that some of our counterparts have."
His eyes rolled toward her.
"For example, did you know that an American spy cannot legally assassinate an enemy operative? We can't maim or torture anyone like you Islamic fundamentalists can."
A faint whistle from the tea kettle grew shriller and shriller.
"Of course, nothing prevents us from watching our friends in the Mossad do their thing. Dan, how is our tea coming?"
Falik's eyes twitched at the mention of the word Mossad. Elevated fear seemed to crawl across his face.
"Oh, did I mention that my friends Ben and Dan are members of the Mossad?"
"Ready, ma'am."
Dan walked over to Falik and poured a stream of boiling water onto his arm.
"AAGGGHH!"
Shannon winced. "Now that's hard to watch."
Falik got up, trying to crawl like a wounded rat. That brought an immediate karate chop to the back of his neck and another knee to the groin, this time courtesy of Ben.
"OOHH!"
"Oscar India Golf, Mr. Falik?"
"Never!"
"Tsk-tsk." Shannon crossed her legs again. "Boys, would you see if there's something to drink in the fridge?"
"Bottled water okay?"
"Perfect." She accepted the bottled water from Dan, twisted off the cap, and turned the bottle bottoms up.
"Now, you know, Mr. Falik, it doesn't seem to me that our humane American techniques are working, now, does it? Let me try once more." A swig of bottled water. "Oscar India Golf?"
Nothing.
"Pity. Okay, let's see if the Mossad can come up with anything, shall we say, more persuasive." Another sip of water and a flutter of her hand. "Boys?"
Dan grabbed Falik by the hair, jerking him up from the floor as Ben twisted his arms tightly behind his back. Overpowering the smaller Arab, they pushed him into the kitchen, toward the blue butane flame leaping from the oven.
"No!" he screamed as the Israelis pushed his face down, closer to the leaping fire. "NOOO!"
"Oscar India Golf?" Shannon said calmly.
"Please! No!"
"Oscar India Golf?"
"Okay! Okay! I'll talk!"
"Now that's more like it."
CHAPTER 52
The Oval Office
The White House
Washington, D.C.
Flip it on, Wally," the president ordered.
"Yes, Mr. President." The chief of staff hit the remote control, which brought to life the familiar face of CNN's Tom Miller.
"This is Tom Miller in Jerusalem, where in just a few minutes, the court-martial of two navy pilots, accused of launching missile attacks on the Dome of the Rock, are about to begin. And as we wait for the opening session of this, the second nationally televised court-martial in navy history, we are joined by our expert legal tandem of Jeanie Van Horton, a former federal prosecutor" -- a smiling middle-aged blond appeared on the screen -- "and of course, our own Bernie Woodson." A tough-looking African-American glared at the cameras.
"And we'll start with you, Bernie. What can we expect from this morning's session?"
Woodson frowned. "We don't actually know what Mr. la Trec will do, but we expect a defense motion to have the case dismissed. We believe that he will follow up on his argument that he made before the UN Security Council, that these pilots are accused of attacking an international holy shrine, are accused of killing foreign civilians, and therefore, the International Criminal Court in the Hague should be hearing this case, not a U.S. Navy court-martial."
"Jeanie Van Horton, what difference does it make which court hears the case?"
"Two things, Tom. First, la Trec is posturing politically. As you know, the international sentiment is boiling over against the United States and also Israel, and especially in the Arab world, where there is this notion that these attacks were some sort of American-Israeli plot to retaliate for 9/11. The U.S. reluctance to turn over the pilots to an international tribunal tends to fan those flames. So even if Jean-Claude la Trec loses this motion, he feels that he will have won in the court of international public opinion.
"Secondly, la Trec feels like he has a better chance for an acquittal of these pilots in an international forum. Assuming he makes the argument that the attacks were part of an American-Israeli plot and that his clients were just carrying out the orders of their superiors, the argument has a better chance of flying in the international court, where the U.S. is not so popular."
"Any chance Norgaard might grant this, Jeanie?"
"Obviously, Tom, we don't know. No such motion has ever been tried in a U.S. court-martial before. But here's what we do know about Captain Norgaard. He holds a master's degree in international law from Harvard, so he certainly will be attuned to such an argument, and more than any other navy judge he has a reputation for throwing out big cases on procedural or jurisdictional irregularities. And, Tom, he has a track record to back that reputation. So if there's any one judge in the navy who might actually toss the case on these grounds, it appears that Mr. la Trec may have found his judge."
"Thank you, Bernie Woodson and Jeanie Van Horton. Right now we've got to take a break, but we'll be back for continued coverage of the court-martial of the aviators right after this."
CHAPTER 53
Courtroom 3
Israeli District Court
West Bank Division
Are there any pretrial motions?" Judge Norgaard looked down from the bench over the top of his half-moon, wire-rim reading glasses. Zack stood. "Nothing from the government."
"Your Honor" -- la Trec stood and swept his hand forward, palm up, toward the judge, as if prepared to receive manna from heaven -- "the defense will move to dismiss all charges and specifications for lack of subject matter jurisdiction."
A motion to dismiss this case will most likely be made by your opponent, much in the way Mr. Levinson moved to dismiss the last court-martial you were involved in.
"Very well," Norgaard said. "Let the record reflect that the defense has moved to dismiss for lack of subject matter jurisdiction."
If the motion to dismiss is denied, that is when Lieutenant Colcernianwill have a hand in helping you.
"I will hear argument on your motion at this time, Mr. la Trec."
"Thank you, Your Honor." La Trec glanced at Zack. "Let me begin by saying that we respect the grand tradition of the United States military. Indeed, the U.S. military has had an indispensable hand in securing and maintaining freedom as we know it in the Western world, both in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. And a great part of your awesome military has been the fair tradition of your military justice system." La Trec nodded humbly at Norgaard.
"While in most cases it would be most appropriate to bring a case involving U.S. Navy pilots before a U.S. Navy court-martial, I would argue, most respectfully, Your Honor, this is not such a case.
"This is a unique case involving well-established principles of international law recognized by all civilized nations, including the United States of America." He gestured grandly. "International law to which we contend the United States is bound."
"As you know, Your Honor, there are but two sources of international law recognized by the family of civilized nations. These are, one" -- la Trec held up his index finger -- "custom, and two" -- his fingers now made a V sign -- "treaty. The United States is bound to dismiss this court-martial and turn these defendants over to an international tribunal because of both custom and treaty.
"First, custom. Let me point out, Your Honor, that the United States government, to its credit, has a long and distinguished custom of endorsing international tribunals where war crimes are concerned.
"From the presence of American prosecutors for war crimes against Nazi officers at Nuremburg, to the prosecution of Yugoslavia's Slobo-dan Milosevic, America has supported, endorsed, and even participated in international tribunals for the alleged commission of international crimes." La Trec glanced at Zack.
"By its assent to international custom recognizing the use of such tribunals, America is now bound by international law. The only differences in the cases I have mentioned and in this case is that these defendants are Americans. But if America is going to support international criminal tribunals for the prosecution of defendants who are not Americans, she cannot credibly refuse to support such tribunals in cases, such as this one, where the defendants happen to be American."
La Trec stuck his left hand in his pocket, gesturing with his right.
"The second source of international law, in addition to custom, is the use of international treaties. In this case, the United States is also bound." La Trec raked his fingers through his hair.
"I speak, of course, to the treaty establishing the International Criminal Court, sometimes referred to as the Treaty of Rome, adopted by the United Nations Diplomatic Conference of Plenipotentiaries on July 17, 1998, in the city of Rome." La Trec paused, took a sip of water, and continued.
"Under this treaty, when there are crimes against humanity, when innocent civilians are attacked by military forces, as is the case here" -- la Trec's voice rose -- "the proper jurisdiction is the International Criminal Court, sitting in the Hague.
"Here is what the United Nations secretary-general, Mr. KofiAnnan, said about the International Criminal Court at its inception in 1998." La Trec extracted from his shirt pocket a sheet of folded paper, unfolded it, and laid it on the wooden podium. He slipped on his glasses and looked down, then read reverently, as if from a holy document.
" 'In the prospect of an international criminal court lies the promise of universal justice. That is the simple and soaring hope of this vision. We are close to its realization. Let no State, no junta, and no army anywhere abuse human rights with impunity.' "
La Trec removed the glasses, folded them, and stuck them back inside his jacket. "Two years after Mr. Annan made those very eloquent comments, Your Honor, your great country, on New Year's Eve 2000, became the 139th and the last country to sign this treaty.
"The treaty was signed for your country by President William Jefferson Clinton, Commander in Chief of all United States armed forces. By taking this courageous step, President Clinton brought America more fully into the international family of nations, showing your country's willingness to relinquish just a small part of
its national sovereignty for the better good of mankind.
"This court-martial is bound by both international law and the Constitution of the United States. Here, innocent civilians are said to have died as a result of the acts of military men. In such cases, America recognizes the use of international tribunals and has specifically assented to the establishment of the International Criminal Court in cases such as this. For these reasons, this case should be dismissed.
"I thank you, Your Honor."
La Trec nodded to the court, then turned and gave a slight, gracious bow toward the prosecution table before sitting down.
A motion to dismiss this case will most likely be made by your opponent, much in the way Mr. Levinson moved to dismiss the last court-martial you were involved in.
"Very well," Norgaard said. "Lieutenant Commander Brewer, what is the government's position?"
If the motion to dismiss is denied, that is when Lieutenant Colcernian will have a hand in helping you.
Zack pulled the small photo of a smiling, sparkly-eyed, curly-haired Anna Kweskin from his pocket. "This is for you, sweetie," he whispered to himself.
"Commander, did you say something?" Judge Norgaard snapped.
"My apologies, Your Honor." Zack rose, stepping confidently to the center podium the eloquent Frenchman had just abandoned. "Yes, we would like to respond." Zack glanced at the smiling la Trec, then back to Norgaard.
"First, Mr. la Trec's contention that the United States has assented to the use of a so-called international criminal court" -- Zack made quotation marks with his fingers -- "is inaccurate.
"While it is true that an American prosecutor was one of several lead prosecutors at the Nuremburg tribunals, it should also be remembered that Nuremburg was not just a single trial, as this court-martial will be, but was in fact twelve trials involving over one hundred defendants, taking place over a period of four years. That's hardly comparable, Your Honor, to the single, simple court-martial in this case.