After a security check we took an elevator to the fourth floor and walked into the ambassador’s outer office. The secretary had a long, droopy face and a long, narrow nose, and she looked at us like we were stray dogs who’d come to crap on her lawn. She lifted the receiver, pushed a button, and announced we were here. Then with a dismissive wave, she signaled us to enter the door to the left of her desk.

Two men were seated on gold silk couches in the corner of the regal-looking office. They stood as we entered. I might’ve been imagining things, but their faces looked vaguely guilty, or slightly embarrassed, or mildly entertained, or maybe all three.

One had the eagle of a full colonel on his collar. “Janson” was written on his nametag. He was in his mid-fifties, with short, tightly cropped gray stubble on his head, tough, distrustful eyes, and lips that were too big and wide for his narrow face. Like the lips on a piranha. He wore JAG brass on his other collar, of course, since he was the legal adviser to General Spears. He didn’t look like a lawyer, though. He had the aspect of a high school disciplinarian who accidentally got a law degree and still resented it.

The other guy looked exactly like what he was supposed to be: a diplomat – a particular kind of diplomat, though. I mean, they’re not all vanilla ice cream, and he was the type I guessed I wasn’t going to like a lot. Maybe late forties, with black hair that was blow-dried back in the currently fashionable style, and that should’ve had at least a few wisps of gray but mysteriously didn’t. He had a chiseled, lined face, dark, piercing eyes, and an imperious curl on his lips. There was a gold Harvard ring on his left hand, but no wedding band. He was either single or advertising his 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 could and probably should’ve ignored her.

Instead, I said, “Mr. Brandewaite, exactly what is your agreement with the South Korean government? Who’s it with and how much have you conceded?”

Brandewaite nodded at Janson to take over.

“We’ve already agreed to turn Whitehall over for pretrial confinement. In about an hour, General Spears is going to meet with Chun Moon Song, the minister of justice, to inform the Koreans we also formally relinquish the right to try Whitehall.”

“Only Whitehall? What about Moran? What about Jackson?”

“Uh, no. Only Whitehall. The South Koreans haven’t requested the other two. Their crimes were reprehensible, though clearly not as heinous.”

“Have we ever ceded the right to try before?”

“This is a unique case. You know how the law works, Major. Precedents are guides, but they aren’t binding. Every case is decided on its own merits.”

“Is this a reciprocal agreement?”

Janson’s expression was perfectly innocuous. “What do you mean?”

“Is there a quid pro quo? You turn over Whitehall, and in return other prisoners remain under our military jurisdictional courts. Are we trading flesh for flesh here?”

Brandewaite quickly placed a hand on Janson’s leg. “Major, you know that diplomatic discussions between the U.S. government and the government of the Republic of Korea are strictly confidential. We simply can’t disclose what we’ve discussed.”

“No?”

“No,” he replied, very firmly.

“Can you at least disclose who’s been negotiating with the South Koreans?”

“Of course. I have. And Colonel Janson has very kindly served as my co-interlocutor.”

Co-interlocutor? Where the hell did they find these guys?

But I didn’t ask that. Instead, I asked, “So, it was just you and Colonel Janson here, huh?”

Janson started to open his lips, but Brandewaite shut him off with a quick chopping motion. A bad mistake on his part.

“That’s right, Major. There were some notetakers, but the colonel and I spearheaded this effort.”

“Good, that keeps it nice and clean.”

“Keeps what nice and clean?”

“Who we cite.”

“Who you cite for what?”

“For obstructing justice and engaging in a criminal conspiracy to defraud our client of his legal rights. And the civil suit we’ll file for violating the constitutional rights of our client.”