The Ghost

carefully, “or war crimes.”
    There was a silence. Odd the effect such words can have. Perhaps it was the fact that it was she who had said them: she looked so innocent. We stopped smiling.
    “Unbelievable,” said Ruth eventually, “to equate what Adam did or didn’t do with the Nazis.”
    “That’s precisely why the United States doesn’t recognize the court,” said Kroll. He wagged his finger. “We warned you what would happen. An international war crimes tribunal sounds very noble in principle. But you go after all these genocidal maniacs in the third world, and sooner or later the third world is going to come right back after you; otherwise it looks like discrimination. They kill three thousand of us, we kill one of them, and suddenly we’re all war criminals together. It’s the worst kind of moral equivalence. Well, they can’t drag America into their phony court, so who can they drag? It’s obvious: our closest ally—you. Like I say, it’s not legal, it’s political.”
    “You should make exactly that point, Adam,” said Amelia, and she wrote something in her black-and-red notebook.
    “Don’t worry,” he said grimly, “I will.”
    “Go ahead, Connie,” said Kroll. “Let’s hear the rest of it.”
    “The reason we can’t be sure which route they’ll choose at this stage is that torture is outlawed both by Article Seven of the 1998 Rome Statute, under the heading of ‘Crimes against humanity,’ and also under Article Eight, which is ‘War crimes.’ Article Eight also categorizes as a war crime”—she consulted her laptop—“‘wilfully depriving a prisoner of war or other protected person of the rights of fair and regular trial’ and ‘unlawful deportation or transfer or unlawful confinement.’ Prima facie, sir, you could be accused under either Seven or Eight.”
    “But I haven’t ordered that anyone should be tortured!” said Lang. His voice was incredulous, outraged. “And I haven’t deprived anyone of a fair trial, or illegally imprisoned them. Perhaps— perhaps —you could make that charge against the United States, but not Great Britain.”
    “That’s true, sir,” agreed Encarnacion. “However, Article Twenty-five, which deals with individual criminal responsibility, states that”—and once again her cool dark eyes flickered to the computer screen—“‘a person shall be criminally responsible and liable for punishment if that person facilitates the commission of such a crime, aids, abets, or otherwise assists in its commission or its attempted commission, including the means for its commission.’”
    Again there was a silence, filled by the distant drone of the helicopter.
    “That’s rather sweeping,” said Lang quietly.
    “It’s absurd, is what it is,” cut in Kroll. “It means that if the CIA flies a suspect for interrogation somewhere in a private plane, the owners of that private plane are technically guilty of facilitating a crime against humanity.”
    “But legally—” began Lang.
    “It’s not legal, Adam,” said Kroll, with just a hint of exasperation, “it’s political.”
    “No, Sid,” said Ruth. She was concentrating hard, frowning at the carpet and shaking her head emphatically. “It’s legal as well. The two are inseparable. That passage your young lady just read out makes it perfectly obvious why the judges will have to allow an investigation, because Richard Rycart has produced documentary evidence that suggests that Adam did in fact do all those things: aided, abetted, and facilitated.” She looked up. “That is legal jeopardy—isn’t that what you call it? And that leads inescapably to political jeopardy. Because in the end it will all come down to public opinion, and we’re unpopular enough back home as it is without this.”
    “Well, if it’s any comfort, Adam’s certainly not in jeopardy as long as he stays here, among his friends.”
    The armored glass vibrated slightly. The helicopter was coming in again for a closer look. Its searchlight filled the room. But on the television screen all that could be seen in the big picture window was a reflection of the sea.
    “Wait a minute,” said Lang, raising his hand to his head and clutching his hair, as if he were glimpsing the situation for the first time. “Are you saying that I can’t leave the United States?”
    “Josh,” said Kroll, nodding to his other assistant.
    “Sir,” said Josh gravely, “if I may, I would like just to read you the opening