“But mistakes were made,” Marci said. “Shouldn’t someone be held accountable? Isn’t that what justice is all about?”
“Marci, in the midst of war terrible forces are set in motion. We stumble, we make mistakes, we go forward, and we fight to end it, the quicker the better. That is the way of war. All we can do is pick up the pieces afterwards and try to make a better peace. Because of Gus Tyler and many others like him, I think we did that. However, we all know there are evil men in the world who do terrible things and should be brought to justice. But Gus Tyler isn’t one of them. This court failed because it couldn’t make that distinction.”
“So you are condemning the court?”
“There was only politics here, Marci, not justice. The court did not make the world a safer place.”
“That is a hard verdict. Perhaps we should leave it there. But Toby, what are you going to do now?”
“Go back and rebuild.”
“But why?”
“For D’Na and my children. I don’t want their legacy to die with them.”
Marci turned to the camera, her eyes moist with tears. She paused. “This is Marci Lennox from the Hague.” She bowed her head and lowered her microphone.
FORTY-FOUR
The Hague
The glass double doors to her offices were locked and the lights were
out when Denise arrived Tuesday morning. She fumbled with her ID card and finally managed to unlock the doors and turn on the lights. She looked around and not seeing anyone, walked into her private office. The morning edition of Le Monde was on her desk where someone had laid it. “Ah, my loyal staff,” she said to herself in French.
The headline screamed
TRAÎTRESSE!
Without sitting down, she quickly scanned the lead article that labeled her as a Dr. Strangelove who had betrayed France and perverted the course of justice in what was being called ‘The China Affair.’ Standing immediately behind her, but not quite as guilty, was Henri Scullanois who had submitted his resignation and gone into seclusion. The whereabouts of Chrestien Du Milan was unknown and he could not be reached for a comment, but his lawyer said he was filing for a divorce. Another headline proclaimed, in English,
MAKE THE WORLD SAFER!
She didn’t have to read the story to know where that came from. Marci Lennox’s interview with Toby Person had captured the news and had ignited an explosion, pitting the staunch defenders of the court against its critics and Gus’s defenders.
Denise walked to the window and studied the huge crowd filling the street below. “Vultures,” she said aloud. As if by magic, the crowd parted as an ambulance nudged its way to the court. “Person,” she muttered. Denise donned her black robe and adjusted the white dickey. She glanced in a full-length mirror hating the image before her. She quickly shook out her hair and let it fall to her shoulders in massive disarray. She needed something to carry into court and picked up an elegant leather folder. Her eyes found the OMAS pen that was still lying on the floor. She stepped on it and slowly pivoted. It cracked and black ink stained the carpet as she walked away. She stood by the window, the folder clasped to her breast as she waited.
Aly gasped when she switched on the lights in the office. Gus, Jason, and his three fellow security policemen were sprawled out around the office, still asleep. It was an assault on Aly’s Dutch sensibilities and she glared at Jason. “Clean it up before Hank and Catherine arrive.” Jason tried to explain that things were going to get messy when five men had to camp out overnight but she wasn’t having any of it. “I’m going to the canteen and when I get back, this had better be spotless.” She dropped a clean uniform shirt for Gus and Jason’s shaving kit on her desk. “You all need to shave,” she ordered. She jerked her head in the direction of the restroom and walked out.
“Now that is one tough lady,” one of the security cops said.
“Tell me,” Jason muttered as they dressed and went to work. They were still cycling in and out of the restroom when Hank and Catherine wheeled Toby in.
“How’s it going?” Gus asked. The two men talked for a few minutes and it was clear that Toby was still weak but well on the road to recovery. “We saw your interview with Marci Lennox last night,” Gus said.
“It’s all over the TV,” Catherine added.
Hank smiled. “You blew ‘em out of the water, Toby. If that doesn’t get a few folks to thinking, nothing ever will. One thing’s for damn sure, Marci got max play with this one.” He humphed. “She’ll probably get an Emmy out of it.”
Gus sat beside Toby. “I don’t think there’s anyway I can thank you enough.” Toby arched an eyebrow, not understanding. Gus tried to find the right words. “I feel responsible for what happened at the mission, by sending Jason there.”
“Jason just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Toby said. “Stop blaming yourself.”
Jason shot Aly a knowing look and she answered with a little nod. “When are you going back?” Jason asked.
“As soon as possible,” Toby replied.
“You totally astound me,” Gus said.
A gentle look spread across Toby’s face. “Do you remember what you said after Mutlah Ridge when I asked you why we do what we do? You said, ‘There is an obligation to serve that we must honor.’ It was true then, it’s true now.”
“Yeah, but we don’t talk about it. Doesn’t go with the image.”
“Time to go to court,” Aly said.
Catherine leaned across the bar and spoke in a low voice when Denise entered the courtroom. “How can anyone look so beautiful and so devastated? She’s Marie Antoinette going to the guillotine.” As one, Gus, Aly, and Hank twisted around to see.
“Or Mary Queen of Scots,” Hank said.
“I’m voting for Anne Boleyn,” Gus added.
“Stop it,” Aly commanded.
The door behind the bench opened. Relieu, wearing a blue robe, led Della Sante and Richter to their seats. Relieu sat down in Bouchard’s seat as the clerk called the court to order. He opened a folder and read. “It is with sadness and regret that we must announce Justice Gaston Bouchard cannot continue because of ill health and must withdraw from this court. In accordance with Article Seventy-four of the Rome Statute, the presidency must replace a member of a trial chamber if a member is unable to continue. After due deliberation, I was appointed to fill the vacancy.
“Further, Article Seventy-four states ‘The judges shall attempt to achieve unanimity in their decision, failing which the decision shall be taken by a majority of the judges.’ However, given the late stage of the current proceedings, my participation in any deliberations would require rehearing the entire trial.”
“Which means Toby takes the stand,” Hank whispered to Gus. “Which is the last thing they want.” He couldn’t help himself and asked in loud voice, “Where’s Henri?”
Relieu ignored him. “As it is still possible to achieve a majority verdict without a third vote, the presidency of the court has ruled that Justices Della Sante and Richter must continue and try to reach a verdict without my participation in the deliberations. They have done so. Unfortunately, they have not been able to unanimously agree.”
“For shame!” a man shouted from the rear. Two court security guards escorted the man out as the audience buzzed with anticipation.
Catherine leaned forward. “You hung the court.”
“Thanks to Gus,” Hank said.
Relieu rapped for order. “When the court is not unanimous in its verdict, the trial chamber is required to state the views of the minority, which, in this case, is twofold.”
A loud murmur swept through the spectators and Richter tapped his microphone until it was quiet. “The question of the defendant’s guilt is not in question.” He recapped the elements of each charge and the evidence that proved Gus’s guilt. He droned on, summarizing the legal logic that justified a guilty verdict. He finally reached the end. “In view of the above and after careful deliberation, I find the defendant, August Tyler, guilty as charged.” Loud applause surged through the spectators and Relieu let it ride and build. Finally, the spectators quieted.
Now it was Della Sante’s turn. “The question of Colonel Tyler’s guilt .” She was interrupted by a collective gasp for using Gus’s proper title. She scowled at the spectators. “August Tyler earned his rank with honorable service to his country and should be so acknowledged. As I was saying, the question of Colonel Tyler’s guilt is overshadowed by two erroneous interpretations of the Rome Statue. First, Colonel Tyler is not subject to the court’s jurisdiction as he is a citizen of the United States, which was not, nor is now, a signatory to the Rome Statute, and hence, not a member of the court. While I personally believe that the court can reach back in time and prosecute crimes against humanity, this capability must be exercised with extreme care and diligence, applies only to members of the court, and can only proceed at the behest of the member party.
“Second, at the time he employed the weapons in question, the Statute’s Elements of Crimes did not prohibit them for the simple fact that the Rome Statute and the court did not exist. A fundamental principle of criminal law forbids prosecution of acts that were not identified as crimes at the time they were committed. This standard is so basic that to violate it strikes at the very legitimacy of this court.” She swept the audience with a stern look. “This court must be governed by the law and be above political influence.
“In the matter of the first count of willful murder, there is enough evidence to suggest that Colonel Tyler was responsible for the death of at least one civilian. However, this was not proven beyond a reasonable doubt. Therefore, I find the defendant, Colonel August Tyler, not guilty.” She jerked her head, signifying she was finished.
A smattering of applause worked its way around the courtroom. Relieu waited for it to subside. “In view of the above,” Relieu said, “this case is returned to the prosecutor for her consideration and the defendant is returned to the custodial State. This chamber has completed its task and stands adjourned.” He stood and marched out of the courtroom with Della Sante and Richter close behind. Jason and his three companions immediately marched down the aisle and formed a human wall around Gus.
“Does that mean I go back to jail?” Gus asked.
Hank stood. “Well, the Dutch don’t have jurisdiction in the palace and they aren’t about to come in to get you. So that means court security has to transport you to Dutch jurisdiction.”
“Which ain’t gonna happen,” Jason announced.
Gus took charge. “It looks like we’ve got a classic standoff going. Let’s go back to the office and see what it takes to get out of here. Toby, you want to come with us? It might get a bit pushy.” Toby readily agreed and Gus turned to leave but Therese Derwent was standing a few feet away, blocking the way, her face serious.
She nodded at him. “August Tyler, I will never understand you but I will always count you as a friend.” A half smile played at her lips and she made a zooming motion with her right hand, down and away, the classic gesture of a fighter pilot peeling off and diving. Gus saluted in acknowledgement. She stepped aside as Hank pushed Toby in his wheelchair, leading a V formation out of the courtroom with Gus safely in the middle. Aly closed the huge double doors and vowed never to enter them again.
They all crowded into the elevator for the short ride to the second floor, and marched down the deserted corridor to their office suite where Max Westcot was waiting with Winslow James, the deputy charge of mission from the embassy. “What the hell is going on?” Gus demanded.
“The Dutch have released Colonel Tyler and declared him persona non grata,” James said. He checked his watch. “We have twelve hours to get you out of the country.”
“How did that happen?” Hank asked.
Westcot was obviously pleased with himself. “Let’s just say the Dutch want nothing to do with you. Winslow here …”
Gus exploded and turned his anger on James. “You worthless toad!”
Westcot held up a hand. “… has arranged for a helicopter.” He checked his watch. “It should be here any time and the Navy has a cruiser waiting off shore. Go easy on Winslow, Gus. He can make things happen. Besides, as long as he’s here, no one is going to touch you.”
James drew himself up to his full five feet three inches. “Colonel Tyler, I am not a brave man. However, I know my duty.”
The phone rang and Aly answered. She listened and then hung up. “The court is typing up an order transferring Gus to the Iraqis. It should be signed and served within the hour.”
“Some poor bastard is gonna get it shoved up his ass,” Jason promised.
“Please, be calm,” James urged. “The court can issue arrest warrants or transfer orders until they run out of paper. But it has no enforcement authority in itself and must rely on its members to act in its behalf. And right now, there is too high a political price to pay for the Dutch to touch you.”
Hank understood and turned to James. “Thank you.”
“We had to put some quid pro quos in play,” James admitted, “and the Dutch realize it is in their best interests to disengage in this matter.”
“I had to shut Cassandra down,” Westcot added. “I don’t know what got into her but she was playing havoc jamming communications. The Dutch were mightily upset so I turned her off.”
“You know she did talk to me afterwards,” Hank said. Westcot nodded. “Please don’t fire her.”
“Not to worry,” Westcot said.
The phone rang again and Aly answered. Without a word, she turned on the TV. Marci Lennox was broadcasting in front of the ICC. “We’ve just learned that the prosecutor, Denise Du Milan, has submitted her resignation effectively immediately.” The TV camera panned the crowd that was surging back and forth, pounding at the police line. “The situation is very confused here and I can only tell you that this is a very angry crowd on the verge of becoming an uncontrollable mob.” The police line broke and people rushed through, coming directly at the reporter. The camera was still on and gyrating wildly as Marci and her crew ran for safety.
Overhead, a US Navy helicopter hovered into view and landed on the roof.
“That’s for you,” Westcot told Gus. “Let’s go.”
Winslow James led the way and held eight court guards at bay when they crossed the fly bridge connecting the two towers. Halfway across they stopped and took in the scene. The palace was completely surrounded by demonstrators as a black sedan pulled out of the staff entrance. The mob rocked the sedan and forced it to stop. A demonstrator broke a rear window and wrenched the door open. Even from seven floors, they could see Denise’s distinctive mane of auburn hair as two men and a woman dragged her out of the car. “They’ve got Du Milan!” Catherine shouted.