“You ran a brilliant operation, Colonel.”
Loonfeather looked up sharply, though he detected no hint of irony in Hooper’s voice. “Really, Commander? I had a distinct feeling that you disapproved.”
Hooper smiled. “OK, I did. I thought it could have been done with much less fuss, and I was rude. I meant to apologize, and then the Soviets popped up and we all got real busy. I apologize now, Colonel. The operation was right, and you may be assured that I will say that to any REMF who asks me.
“Thank you, Commander, though I doubt anyone will ask.”
“I have ways of being heard. Stuart even more so. You know we will back you up.”
“Thank you again, Commander-”
“Please, make it Hoop. Even my Sealies can’t call me commander without a smirk.”
“Hoop. But I didn’t come here to ask you two to testify. It won’t come to that; the country is wiser than our leaders, and the people are proud of what we did.”
Stuart returned and slid into his chair. “As well they should be, Colonel.”
Loonfeather smiled, but his eyes wrinkled with grief. “I want to know, just from you two, because you could see it all, whether the operation was proportionate, appropriate - I don’t think either word is right, but-”
“It was a good operation, Colonel. We could have lost with less,” said Hooper.
“You beat a better force than we planned for, Rufus. You know that,” said Stuart.
Loonfeather rose and extended his hand to Hooper and then Stuart. “Thanks. That’s what the Russian commander said too, for what it’s worth.”
“Good luck. You get trouble, you call, OK?” said Hooper.
“The embassy driver is waiting. Enjoy your dinner, gentlemen, and thank you.” Loonfeather turned and marched to the polished brass doors of the restaurant and out into the rain.
“That’s sad,” said Stuart, picking up his glass.
“Yeah. Everybody got what they wanted: hostages home, moderates in power in Moscow, President gonna make a stirring speech over the remains of the brave-”
“And Baruni is apparently out of power.”
“Yeah. It looks like we did good!”
“Hoop, do you think the politicians will really get at Loonfeather?”
“Not directly; they can’t. They will make him a hero - give him a big medal, and probably a full colonel’s eagle. But down the line, they’ll fuck him over, because he fought too hard and offended their sensibilities.”
“Shit, Hoop! You and I both know how close we came to being overrun! We could have been wiped out! What would our jolly politicians have made of that?”
Hooper twirled his glass by its long stem. “Kinda takes you back, doesn’t it?”
Stuart nodded slowly. “Nam all over again. The politicians fuck up, then dump on the low orders in the trenches. It isn’t fair.”
“Never is, lad. But this topic is depressing. You don’t look too happy yourself, for an intrepid warrior fresh from victory come.”
Stuart shook his head, his mouth tightening. He stared at the champagne flute, watching the fine bubbles.
“Did you see Leah before we came back here?” asked Hooper with infinite delicacy.
“Yes. On Inchon. I asked her to come to London.” Stuart looked up, his face curiously devoid of expression. “To have dinner with us.”
“And?”
“She declined. No, she more than declined. She said that she - cared for me, but that I could never enter her life.”
“Why, if that’s what you want?”
“She said she admired us, fighting against terrorism. Our spirit, and especially our bravery. But that for us it was a quick response to a single insult. To her, it’s life. Israel and the army are her life.” Stuart drank the last drops from his glass.
“What did you say to that?” Hooper’s voice was almost a whisper.
“I - I asked if I could come and visit her, in Israel. She said again that I could not be part of her life.” Stuart dabbed the corners of his eyes with his napkin.
Hooper felt the pain and looked away. “Did she say anything more?”
“She just cried. Cried to wake the dead.”
Hooper took a deep breath and felt the rush of despair envelop him. Ricardo’s body in the green bag, and all the others. “Let’s have some more champagne, William,” he said gently.
Stuart’s head snapped up. His jaw was firm, and his eyes were dry. “Of course, Hoop. To honor absent comrades.”
USA, a year later
The man who styled himself as Abu Salaam was brought to trial in the Federal Court for the District of Columbia two months after his capture. He was charged with one count of air piracy, two counts of murder, and sixty-five counts of kidnapping.
Abu Salaam repeatedly disrupted the court’s proceedings, denying the court’s jurisdiction and calling upon the Arab nation to demand his release. The wave of hostage-taking by revolutionary factions that he had confidently predicted did not occur; in fact, the Arab world took very little notice of the trial. The judge finally had him removed, to view major portions of the trial on closed-circuit television from his cell.
The prosecution presented its case in exhaustive detail. Thirty-one of the hostages testified, all of whom had either seen Abu Salaam fire the fatal shot at Lance Corporal Stevens or had seen the terrorist Walid kill Seaman Cummins, clearly under orders from his commander. The defense attacked the constitutionality of the law that allowed non-U.S. persons to be brought to trial for crimes not committed in the U.S., and argued that because of the notoriety of the hijacking, the defendant could not receive a fair trial anywhere in the United States. The jury found the defendant guilty on all counts after deliberating for less than fifty minutes. The judge conferred the sentence of death.
The Circuit Court of Appeals agreed to review the case immediately and affirmed the lower court’s decision. The Supreme Court similarly agreed to a prompt review and to decide the constitutional issue. During the months of review, Abu Salaam was confined at the military stockade at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas.
The Supreme Court completed its review in January, upholding the lower court’s decision. As to the constitutional issue, the justices reasoned that while Abu Salaam had never set foot upon the United States aircraft, he had undoubtedly controlled and commanded the kidnappers, and that the murders had grown out of the acts of piracy and kidnapping. The court’s decision was unanimous.
On February 15, a year to the day after the hijacking of World Airways flight 41a, Abu Salaam was led to the gallows outside the walls of the prison at Fort Leavenworth. He had two last requests, first, that he be executed by a firing squad, as befitted a soldier. The request was denied by the commandant of the prison. He then asked to be left without the hood and to be allowed to address the witnesses. That request also was denied.
At five minutes past six in the morning, beneath a cold and rainy sky, Abu Salaam was brought before six witnesses drawn from the Officer’s Duty Roster. His hands were tied behind him, at the wrists and at the elbows, and his legs were tied at the ankles and at the knees. Over his gray prison uniform he wore a black hood, held securely by the noose around his neck. The prison commandant read the execution order, stepped back, and Abu Salaam dropped as the trap opened beneath him. Ten minutes later, he was pronounced dead by the prison’s Chief Medical Officer.
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