availability.
“Welcome,” he announced, acting falsely warm as his eyes took our measure. They skipped past me in a millisecond, paused briefly to envy the cut of Keith’s suit, then feasted for a long, lusty moment on Katherine. Heh-heh, little did he know. He’d have better luck with Keith.
“I’m Arthur Brandewaite, the acting ambassador. This is Colonel Mack Janson, General Spears’s legal adviser. Please,” he said, with a smooth flourish of his arm in the direction of the two couches. That flourish-of-the-arm thing was so profusely elegant I figured he must practice it in front of the mirror.
We all trooped over. Brandewaite and Janson sat back down on their couch, and the three of us scrunched up together and faced them.
“So,” Brandewaite said, “Colonel Janson tells me you’ve already gotten the news. We’re all so terribly sorry about this, but . . .” He brought up his hands in a helpless gesture.
Katherine, with a very belligerent motion of her own, said, “Why are you sorry? We’re not turning my client over. Period! End of statement! He won’t be tried in a Korean court.”
Brandewaite glanced at Janson, an impatient, testy glance, like, What’s this? Did you fail to deliver the full text of the message?
Then he turned back to Katherine and started shaking his head in contrived consternation. “Miss Carlson, it seems there’s some kind of mistake here. The South Korean government didn’t
ask
us to turn over Whitehall. They
demanded
he be turned over by close of business today. We are, after all, guests in their country.”
Katherine said, “I don’t care. My client has rights and you have a Status of Forces Agreement that obligates you to ensure he’s tried in an American military court. In case you’ve forgotten, he’s not only a soldier, he’s a taxpayer and therefore your employer. He’s not being turned over.”
Janson was glaring spitefully at me, because obviously someone had explained that inconvenient little Status of Forces Agreement thing to Katherine. And, uh . . . well, I guess I did appear to be the most likely candidate.
“Miss Carlson,” Brandewaite said with a tone of condescending patience, “I certainly understand your position. I even share your sympathies. However,” he continued, making that “however” sound deeper and wider than the Grand Canyon, “when one international party says it will no longer honor a diplomatic agreement, there’s nothing we can do.”
Katherine bent forward fiercely. “Bullshit. You force them to abide by it. For Chrissakes, we’re the ones defending them from the bad guys, aren’t we? That’s called leverage.”
“It doesn’t work like that,” Brandewaite insisted.
“Then
make
it work like that,” Katherine demanded.
“I couldn’t . . . even if I wanted to. My position has been approved by both the State Department and the National Security Council. The situation is already radicalized enough. We don’t want to do anything that will stoke the fires. Whitehall will be turned over to the Koreans at five o’clock today.”
“No, he won’t! I’ll file a motion and get this blocked,” Katherine threatened.
“With who?” Brandewaite asked, barely concealing a smile.
“What do you mean, with who?”
The acting ambassador leaned back into the couch and crossed his legs. He ran pinched fingers along the creases on his worsted wool trousers and admired the shine on his fancy shoes. “Who will you file the motion with? This is Korea, not the United States. File it with a military court, and I guarantee you it will be overturned by noon. File it with the Koreans and they’ll laugh at you.”
Janson was vigorously nodding his head, and since he was the military adviser to the Commander in Chief, that made it a fair bet Brandewaite wasn’t blowing smoke.
Katherine looked inquisitively at Keith, who shrugged, and only then did she turn her big green eyes beseechingly in my direction.
I
“Welcome,” he announced, acting falsely warm as his eyes took our measure. They skipped past me in a millisecond, paused briefly to envy the cut of Keith’s suit, then feasted for a long, lusty moment on Katherine. Heh-heh, little did he know. He’d have better luck with Keith.
“I’m Arthur Brandewaite, the acting ambassador. This is Colonel Mack Janson, General Spears’s legal adviser. Please,” he said, with a smooth flourish of his arm in the direction of the two couches. That flourish-of-the-arm thing was so profusely elegant I figured he must practice it in front of the mirror.
We all trooped over. Brandewaite and Janson sat back down on their couch, and the three of us scrunched up together and faced them.
“So,” Brandewaite said, “Colonel Janson tells me you’ve already gotten the news. We’re all so terribly sorry about this, but . . .” He brought up his hands in a helpless gesture.
Katherine, with a very belligerent motion of her own, said, “Why are you sorry? We’re not turning my client over. Period! End of statement! He won’t be tried in a Korean court.”
Brandewaite glanced at Janson, an impatient, testy glance, like, What’s this? Did you fail to deliver the full text of the message?
Then he turned back to Katherine and started shaking his head in contrived consternation. “Miss Carlson, it seems there’s some kind of mistake here. The South Korean government didn’t
ask
us to turn over Whitehall. They
demanded
he be turned over by close of business today. We are, after all, guests in their country.”
Katherine said, “I don’t care. My client has rights and you have a Status of Forces Agreement that obligates you to ensure he’s tried in an American military court. In case you’ve forgotten, he’s not only a soldier, he’s a taxpayer and therefore your employer. He’s not being turned over.”
Janson was glaring spitefully at me, because obviously someone had explained that inconvenient little Status of Forces Agreement thing to Katherine. And, uh . . . well, I guess I did appear to be the most likely candidate.
“Miss Carlson,” Brandewaite said with a tone of condescending patience, “I certainly understand your position. I even share your sympathies. However,” he continued, making that “however” sound deeper and wider than the Grand Canyon, “when one international party says it will no longer honor a diplomatic agreement, there’s nothing we can do.”
Katherine bent forward fiercely. “Bullshit. You force them to abide by it. For Chrissakes, we’re the ones defending them from the bad guys, aren’t we? That’s called leverage.”
“It doesn’t work like that,” Brandewaite insisted.
“Then
make
it work like that,” Katherine demanded.
“I couldn’t . . . even if I wanted to. My position has been approved by both the State Department and the National Security Council. The situation is already radicalized enough. We don’t want to do anything that will stoke the fires. Whitehall will be turned over to the Koreans at five o’clock today.”
“No, he won’t! I’ll file a motion and get this blocked,” Katherine threatened.
“With who?” Brandewaite asked, barely concealing a smile.
“What do you mean, with who?”
The acting ambassador leaned back into the couch and crossed his legs. He ran pinched fingers along the creases on his worsted wool trousers and admired the shine on his fancy shoes. “Who will you file the motion with? This is Korea, not the United States. File it with a military court, and I guarantee you it will be overturned by noon. File it with the Koreans and they’ll laugh at you.”
Janson was vigorously nodding his head, and since he was the military adviser to the Commander in Chief, that made it a fair bet Brandewaite wasn’t blowing smoke.
Katherine looked inquisitively at Keith, who shrugged, and only then did she turn her big green eyes beseechingly in my direction.
I
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