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it up. She listened for a moment. “Hank, it’s Marci Lennox, the reporter from CNC-TV.” She pulled a face and covered the mouthpiece. “She recognized you and wants to interview you for the evening news.”
    “No way,” Hank replied. “Tell her to go away.”
    Catherine took a deep breath. “I don’t think the media will be going away soon. Apparently, you’re some sort of hero for saving Madison.”
    “Lovely. Absolutely lovely.”
    “Another call,” Catherine said. She punched the call-waiting button and listened. “Hank, I think you should take this one. It’s the attorney general.” She handed him the phone with a worried look.
    He took the phone and glanced at the waiting image on the small screen. “I think I’m in trouble.”
     

THREE
    Washington, D.C.
    Hank’s BlackBerry vibrated as he followed the young woman through the marbled halls of the Department of Justice. He glanced at the message on the offending instrument and arched an eyebrow. Max Westcot wanted to speak to him soonest. Hank reread the message as the lawyer in his soul sounded alarms. First, the attorney general, and now the modern-day equivalent of a robber baron wanted to speak to him.
    “I must apologize,” his attractive guide said, “but the attorney general has been called to the White House.” She checked with the assistant attorney general’s receptionist and led him through.
    “Thank you,” Hank murmured, still groggy from the Friday night’s redeye flight from San Francisco. His alarm signals went ballistic and he was jolted awake when he saw the man waiting with the assistant attorney general.
    The assistant AG stood and extended his hand. “Hank, thanks for coming so quickly. I don’t believe you know Mr. Weaver.”
    Hank was well aware of James Weaver’s reputation, and he went into a deep defensive crouch. This was a meeting that never happened, which explained the attorney general’s absence. They men shook hands all around and Hank sat down. “So, what can I do for you?”
    The assistant AG leaned forwarded, his ‘I only want to help’ look in place. “Mr. Weaver asked if we would solicit your help in the Tyler case.” He waited for a response from Hank. There wasn’t one so he shifted into his ‘we really need your help’ approach. “Specifically, we want you to defend Colonel Tyler before the ICC.”
    There was no doubt in Hank’s mind that the ‘we’ was the president of the United States. “As an official of the United States defending one of its citizens?” Hank asked.
    The assistant AG shifted in his chair, not liking the way Hank was going. “No. That would be de facto recognition of the court by the US, which we certainly do not want. You would have to go as a private individual.”
    The ‘we’ was still in play and Hank understood it was a request that he couldn’t refuse. “So I’d be on my own?”
    “Let me be candid,” Weaver said. “We asked the attorney general to approach you because you are, without reservation, our country’s leading expert on the ICC, and one fine lawyer. Colonel Tyler’s trial is going to be a three-ring circus, a soap opera that will dominate the nightly news. But given the current crisis over China and Taiwan, we cannot risk angering our European allies and can’t intervene, at least for now. The State Department is involved but our best option is to provide Colonel Tyler with a topnotch defense. That’s you. But our role in this must not be revealed.”
    “As the US has no status with the court,” the assistant AG added, “we need someone who is lacking, shall we say, an official stamp of approval, and has a good reputation with the European media. Which you do, thanks to what you did on the bridge yesterday.”
    “So I defend Colonel Tyler while you pursue other means to gain his release.”
    “The President does have wide-ranging powers under the American Service-Members’ Protection Act,” Weaver said.
    “To use all means