Hostage

by Don Brown

"Plus, the host country at those trials, in that case Germany, was in shambles after World War II and had no legal infrastructure to support the prosecution of those defendants. Therefore, the International Military Tribunal convened at Nuremburg was the only practical way to get the job done.

  "Here, we already have a practical way to get the job done. It's called this court-martial." Zack glanced at Wendy, then gestured to the water pitcher on the prosecution table.

  "The Bosnian war crimes trials, which by the way have been the only example of any such other international war crimes tribunal convened since Nuremburg, are also a poor example. Mr. Milosevic and the others prosecuted were, like many prosecuted at Nuremburg, political or high-ranking military leaders.

  "That simply is not the case here, Your Honor. There are no international or high-ranking military leaders involved. Just two renegade, traitorous" -- Zack stopped and glared at the defendants -- "Islamic terrorists masquerading as naval aviators.

  "Mr. la Trec claims that the United States has assented to these types of tribunals since Nuremburg. He is wrong. As I just said, the only such tribunal convened since Nuremburg has involved the Bosnian war crimes trials." He took a Styrofoam cup of ice water from Wendy, nodding a thank-you.

  "But even still, the United States military has retained jurisdiction over such cases, even where U.S. service Servicemen have been accused of crimes against humanity. The most prominent example of this, of course, is the well-known court-martial of Lieutenant William Calley, who was prosecuted, by a military court-martial I might add, for the execution of over one hundred civilians in what has become known by historians as the My Lai massacre, one of the most tragic events in the Vietnam War." He took a sip of water.

  "The Calley court-martial was post-Nuremburg, and if the United States was going to hand over an American defendant to one of these so-called international tribunals" -- Zack's voice took on a hint of contempt -- "My Lai would have been the time to do it. But instead, the U.S. military properly retained jurisdiction and took care of its own business.

  "A more recent example is the tragedy involving the nuclear sub the USS Greenville. In that case, the skipper of the Greenville, Commander Scott Waddle, was not turned over to some so-called international tribunal, despite the fact that his submarine was responsible for the death of dozens of Japanese civilians off Hawaii. That matter was handled by a navy court of inquiry, not by some bureaucratic arm of the United Nations.

  "There are many other examples, and I won't belabor the point, except to say that my opponent's argument that the U.S. consents to such tribunals is flat-out wrong."

  Zack took another sip of water and glanced at Anna Kweskin's picture, which he had laid on the podium.

  "Permit me now to address Mr. la Trec's claim that the United States is bound by the so-called Treaty of Rome," he said with contempt, "which established what he calls the International Criminal Court." Zack again made air quotation marks.

  "While it is true that former President Clinton signed this treaty, less than one month before he left office, let me also point out that Clinton was the only American president to date to ever consider the very radical notion that the United States should surrender or even partially abdicate its judicial sovereignty to the United Nations. All other American presidents have rejected this notion.

  "Mr. la Trec's theory ignores Article 1, Section 2, of the United States Constitution, which allows the president to bind the United States by way of international treaties only with the advice and consent of the Senate."

  "In this case, not only has the Senate not ratified this so-called treaty, but the administration of President George W. Bush specifically renounced the treaty and notified the United Nations that the United States will not be bound by its terms."

  Judge Norgaard raised an eyebrow.

  "So what does that leave us with, Your Honor?" Zack paused for a sip of water. "It leaves us with murder charges brought against two members of the United States Navy, convened in accordance with the Manual for Courts-Martial, under the legal auspices of the Uniform Code of Military Justice.

  "The United States does not subscribe to the one-world government mentality underpinning this whole international tribunal thing." Zack chopped his fist in the air. "The jurisdictional requirements for proceeding with this court-martial have been met, and the defense motion should be denied.

  "Thank you, Your Honor," Zack said, then sat down and glanced at la Trec, who still wore an arrogant grin.

  "All right," Judge Norgaard said. "I commend both attorneys on some very excellent points in argument. Because of the complexity of this issue, I will defer my ruling until after selection of members, which I anticipate will last the rest of the afternoon. If I dismiss the case, the members will be released. If I deny the motion, both sides should be prepared to proceed. Any questions?"

  "No, sir, Your Honor," Zack said.

  "No, sir," said la Trec.

  "Very well. The court will take a brief recess at this time."

  "All rise!"

  CHAPTER 54

  Horse caravan

  Mountainous terrain

  Location unknown

  The bumping against her spine brought her back to life as the effect of the powerful injections began to wear off again.

  This time, the dome light from the Aerostar had been replaced by a deep-azure sky, flanked on the left and the right by high, rugged, sun-soaked mountain peaks. Gone was the hum of the Aerostar's engine, replaced by the clop-clop of horse hooves. Also gone -- the chains around her hands and ankles.

  Diane felt a cool breeze against her face, then pushed herself up and realized she was in a mule-drawn wooden wagon, being pulled alongside a river in a deep ravine. Four Arab men, all dressed like pictures she had seen of the Mujahideen freedom fighters of Afghanistan, all with AK-47s strapped over their shoulders, flanked each corner of the wagon on horses. The horses carried sacks strapped around them, behind the riders' saddles.

  The sun glancing off the mountaintops was far from this chilly ravine. The chill hit her arms, creating goose bumps. She sat up and wrapped herself in the blanket that had been laid in the wagon for her.

  One of the horsemen, the one just ahead of her and to the right, turned around and caught her eyes.

  "Look who is awake." It was the man who had captured her. He gave her a sinister smile.

  "Thank you," she said.

  "Why are you thanking me?"

  "For taking the chains off."

  He shrugged. "What would be the point? Here, there is no place to run." He turned from her to face forward again.

  She waited a few seconds, letting the mule and horses clop a few more yards along the river.

  "So where is here?"

  A few more clops. More cool breezes whipping down the ravine.

  "Let me tell you where here is not," he said. "Here is not America. Here is not Mexico."

  A few more clops. A whinny.

  "Here is nowhere."

  She sat up in the wooden wagon, Indian style, pulling the blanket around her arms.

  "So where are you taking me?"

  Another delayed response. "Only Allah knows from where we have come and to where we go."

  "That's all you're going to say?" She waited for him to turn around. He did not. "It's not like I can do anything about it anyway."

  "All I can say is this, Lieutenant." The clop-clop of horse hooves echoed through the ravine. "It would be wise to prepare your heart to meet Allah."

  Mossad training facility

  Central Negev Desert

  Happy with what they had accomplished but still not satisfied, Shannon sat in the kitchen area of the Mossad training base and sipped on a bottle of water. "So how is our guest of honor?" She smiled as Dan, whom she had started thinking of as the Human Bicep, walked in.

  "I think the interrogators are making him feel a bit more comfortable than we did."

  "Still talking, is he?"

  "Singing like a c
anary."

  That thought brought a smile to her face. She cocked back her head and sipped more water. "Good." Another sip. "You know, I really should be getting back to Jerusalem. Poor Lieutenant Commander Brewer is going to think I've stood him up."

  "From what I've seen of the commander, he can take care of himself," the Bicep said, then opened the refrigerator, took out a bottle of orange juice, and tipped it up.

  "Yes, I'm sure he can." She sighed.

  "Miss McGillvery." Ben walked into the room. "Our intelligence people think they have spotted the wreckage of one of the F-18s."

  She set the water bottle on the table. "Where?"

  "Syrian Desert. Northeast of the town of Shabba."

  "Where's that?"

  "Had a feeling you would ask," he said, then rolled out a map on the table where they had been drinking coffee. It's right about . . . here." He pointed to a spot east of Damascus. "About 33 north, 37 east."

  "How do we get out there?"

  "Chopper low, due east, across the Jordanian border in the Negev. That's the trickiest part, not getting spotted crossing the border. If we cross undetected, we fly out to the Jordanian desert and turn north, going up the back side of the populated area of Jordan. We fly fifty feet off the deck to avoid radar.

  "When do we go?"

  "Tonight, under cover of darkness."

  "I guess Commander Brewer will have to wait another day."

  "You sure you want to go on this mission?" Dan frowned. "It's dangerous. A chopper is no match for an enemy fighter or any sort of ground-based antiaircraft fire."

  "Look, Biceps," she said, giving him a friendly punch on his right rippling bicep, "I need the danger to get my adrenaline flowing."

  CHAPTER 55

  Courtroom 3

  Israeli District Court

  West Bank Division

  His heart hammering, Zack watched as Captain Norgaard peered over his glasses at the packed courtroom.

  "This court is back in session. Let the record reflect that all counsel and the accused are present."

  Norgaard began to read his order: "The court has considered the defense motion to dismiss for lack of subject matter jurisdiction on the principle that international law, in this limited circumstance, would require referral of this case to an international tribunal. The defense has argued that the United States is bound to such a tribunal on the two internationally recognized bases of international law, namely, custom and treaty.

  "The defense argues that by explicitly supporting international criminal tribunals at Nuremburg, and by implicitly supporting such tribunals more recently in connection with Bosnian atrocities, the United States has now recognized an international custom and is therefore bound to continue in that custom."

  Norgaard paused to adjust his glasses and to take a sip of water.

  "The defense further argues that the United States is also bound to turn these defendants over to the International Criminal Court by virtue of the fact that the Clinton administration signed the so-called Rome Treaty, establishing the existence of that court. On either of these grounds, either by custom or by treaty, this court, should it be persuaded of either argument, could dismiss and recommend to the navy that the case be tried by the international court."

  "The prosecution has argued that the United States has not acceded to such forums by custom, and cites the Calley court-martial and the Waddle court-of-inquiry as examples."

  Norgaard briefly looked down at the prosecution table.

  "The prosecution, through trial counsel, has also argued that the United States is not bound by the Rome Treaty because it was not ratified by the Senate, and also because the George W. Bush Administration has specifically stated that the United States will not be bound by it."

  "As a follow-up to the trial counsel's argument, claiming that the George W. Bush administration stated that the United States will not be bound by the Treaty of Rome, the court has conducted research on this issue and has discovered the following: On May 6, 2002, the government of the United States of America wrote to the secretary-general of the United Nations. That letter contained the following words concerning the Rome Treaty."

  Norgaard laid down the paper from which he was reading and picked up a second piece of paper.

  " 'This is to inform you, in connection with the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court adopted on July 17, 1998, that the United States does not intend to become a party to the treaty. Accordingly, the United States has no legal obligations arising from its signature on December 31, 2000.' "

  Norgaard laid down the letter, removed his glasses, and peered out at the audience.

  "After having considered the arguments of counsel, and after having reviewed the various principles of international and domestic law cited by both counsel, the court agrees with the prosecution that the United States is not bound to turn these defendants over to the International Criminal Court, and the motion is denied."

  "Because of the lateness of the hour, this court will reconvene tomorrow morning for opening arguments. This court is in recess."

  "All rise."

  A blinding flash of light, followed by a ferocious blast, knocked Wendy into Zack's lap. Her weight carried them crashing to the floor. Zack's head slammed onto the deck.

  When he opened his eyes, burning smoke nearly choked him. He squinted. Wendy was on top of him, screaming, trying to push herself up. The room, what he could see of it from under the table, whirled clockwise.

  Shrieks and wails and shattered glass cut through the choking smoke. From flat on his back, the smoke cleared just enough to reveal the gold chandelier swinging overhead. A bitter, burning smell, the smell of gunpowder, filled the air.

  "Everybody down!" someone screamed. "Everybody down!"

  The Oval Office

  The White House

  Washington, D.C.

  Mr. President." The voice of the president's personal secretary, Gail Staff, came over the speakerphone.

  "Yes, Gail?"

  "The national security advisor is here. She says it's urgent, sir."

  "Send her in."

  Mack stood as Cynthia Hewitt raced into the office, out of breath.

  "What is it, Cyndi?"

  "Sir, there's been a bombing at the court-martial in Jerusalem."

  "What?"

  "You should turn on your television, sir."

  "This is Tom Miller in Jerusalem," an ashen-faced Miller said. "A bomb has exploded inside the courtroom in Jerusalem, where two American pilots are on trial in connection with the missile attack on the Dome of the Rock. There are reports of injuries, perhaps even deaths, inside the courtroom. It apparently exploded within seconds after the military judge, Captain Thomas Norgaard, denied a defense motion to dismiss and transfer this case to the International Criminal Court in the Hague. Details are still sketchy . . ."

  The screen went black as the president stood, fuming. "Cyndi, I want a National Security Council meeting in one hour."

  "Yes, Mr. President."

  Mossad training facility

  Central Negev Desert

  It was dusk in the Negev, the daylight now fading quickly, yielding to the canopy of stars starting to roll in from the east. The heavens' purplish hue brought a serene beauty of biblical proportions, Shannon thought momentarily. But this was no time for stargazing.

  Shannon, Dan, and Ben, along with aviation reconstruction experts from the Israeli Air Force and the U.S. Navy, jogged to the first black, unmarked helicopter gunship. Its engines were already running and blowing a warm, windy draft. Shannon, dressed in black from head to toe, tried to hold her strawberry blond hair, which was blowing everywhere, into place. Her efforts were futile.

  The second unmarked gunship, also black, was manned by a platoon of Israeli Special Forces commandos who were armed to the teeth, a fact that gave Shannon a degree of comfort, even though the commandos could do nothing to stop a Stinger missile that might be fired at either helo.

  The
choppers lifted off in unison, dipped their noses, and flew east, away from the vanishing dusk, perhaps no more than fifty feet off the ground. Within a few minutes, they had crossed the Jordanian border, apparently without being spotted. Shannon slipped on her night-vision goggles and gazed out at the landscape, looking almost like the surface of the moon as the choppers raced into the night.

  Within fifteen minutes or so, the choppers made a great loop to the left, now on a northerly course that would take them into northern Jordan and then into Syria. Shannon reached into her pocket for her nine-millimeter. Feeling it gave her an additional sense of security. She disengaged the safety, then worked the firing pin.

  Situation Room

  The White House

  Washington, D.C.

  The vice president stood, signaling the other members of the National Security Council to stand as the president of the United States walked into the room.

  "Sit," Mack ordered, almost curtly. The command was obeyed. "What have we got, Cyndi?"

  "Mr. President," she began, "here's what we know. Two shoe bombs were worn by members of the Arab press. Their heels contained plastic explosives. These two were Al Jazeer reporters. Somehow they slipped in through Israeli security."

  "Injuries and deaths?"

  "Brewer and Poole were shaken up but are fine."

  "Thank God."

  "Judge Norgaard got hit in the hand with flying glass but has undergone stitches and will be okay."

  "Good."

  "But one of the defendants is dead, Mr. President."

  Mack slapped his hand on the table and nearly uttered a curse word, then caught himself. "Which one?"

  "Lieutenant Hosni Alhad."

  "What about Commander Quasay and the defense team?"

  "Just a few scratches. Alhad was killed when a flying shard of glass severed both his jugulars."

  "What about members?"