Displaced (5 page)

“The UK is a member of the Court.”

“The United States then.”

“The US has its own laws, besides they
wouldn’t give you a visa.”

Matanda leaned forward, shifting his weight
so that his legs folded under and around the base of his chair and
his long arms extended on the table in front of him.

“Look,” he said again. It seemed he was
always telling Bembe to “look” or “listen.” Speaking in the voice
of an old friend, he continued, “let’s focus on the good okay? They
dropped one of the charges, the legal bills are being paid, Negusse
is out and the gold mines are not an issue, okay?”

“Okay, and you’ll bring food the next time
you come, right?”

“Yes, yes of course, the food. Do you want a
lawyer or a caterer?”

“Ho, ho – that’s one of the funniest things
you’ve said,” responded Bembe taking delight in goading a
friend.

“I’m glad there’s something I could do to
make you happy,” he responded.

Matanda was the lawyer Bembe trusted. He
would not argue Bembe’s case nor would he say a word in court on
his behalf. A lawyer in London, a former prosecutor, with a
specialty firm had been hired to do that. Matanda, nevertheless,
was responsible for hiring the lawyers, managing the case and
managing affairs generally. He lived in London and maintained the
DPC offices, the political party in exile, and the trip from London
to the Hague had become his routine commute.

****

Horst Wagner, deputy investigator and
protection officer for the International Criminal Court did not
look the part. Lanky with close cropped hair, he seemed mostly
elbows and knees. But he was tough in a sinewy kind of way and
after three years in the German police force, felt proved and ready
for a new challenge. His current position required less
physicalness and more ability at working phones. A desk job was new
to him but he was adept. In his office on the third floor of the
Court’s administrative building, with the one long rectangular
window, he cradled the phone between his chin and shoulder waiting
word on his last witness gone missing. The Belgian officer on the
other end of the phone was describing the scene of the last known
residence and it did not appear good. The house was vacated, the
door left open, furniture turned over, personal papers ransacked,
and most telling a thick smear of blood from the living area out
the front door.

“No, no, I get it Jean,” he said into the
receiver of the phone, “thanks for trying. You can try and go back
out there if you want, if it’s not too dangerous.”

“Okay, just stay available and keep me posted
if you hear anything.

Thanks again for everything.”

He hung up the phone. “Damn it, Damn, Damn,
Damn.” He hated to disappoint the prosecutors he worked for and
this was disappointing news. Jonas Negusse was more than twenty
four hours overdue and based on most recent reports not likely to
post alive. The timing was too close to be coincidence, disappeared
two days before being scheduled for transport to Arusha, Tanzania
to appear to be deposed. Word had got out.

Negusse, the former administrator of mines
for the Ituri district had arranged to provide testimony in the
case of Jean Pierre Bembe. Mr. Negusse, perpetuating his former
role under Mobutu, had continued in his government position after
Mobutu’s demise supported by Bembe and by Bembe’s militia, and
later acquiesced to in fact by the government in Kinshasa. As
administrator of mines, Negusse effectively served as Bembe’s
government proxy in the region. When Bembe moved to Kinshasa, as a
vice president in the transitional government, Negusse served as
his agent in Ituri managing, as much as possible, an area of 8,191
square kilometers centered around the town of Mongbwalu, known as
concession 40. Bembe’s militia exerted de facto control over the
region. On their behalf, Negusse negotiated with outside interests
for rights to restart mining in an organized way. This passed as
good governance in Eastern Congo.

Negusse’s eventual problems had little to do
with mining, but with staying on the right side of the shifting
alliances in the region. Not surprisingly his position had become
untenable. When Bembe was arrested, Negusse lost a powerful
sponsor. In turn, Bembe’s militia lost a leader presenting an
opportunity for others to fill the void. Confronted with the
inevitable, Negusse was making plans to depart and the arrest of
his old boss provided an opportunity. He initially approached the
UN peacekeeping force commander in Bunia, making general inquiries
about the case in the Hague. Over time he identified a contact and
made his bargain.

Negusse was expected to testify how Bembe,
and his militia, used their control of the concession to enrich
themselves and to perpetuate his armed resistance and the ongoing
conflict. A conflict which served as justification for the
militia’s existence and continued control of the mining concession.
Negusse’s testimony was to be the motive in the case against Bembe
and his maintenance of violence. It would also provide detail about
the arrangements between Bembe and outside mining companies. The
case would still go forward. There was plenty of physical evidence
and eyewitness testimony. What Negusse brought to the table was
motive and a refutation to the defense of military justification.
Horst had other avenues to pursue, other leads to follow. With the
disappearance of a key witness, he would have to pursue those
connections.

****

Jennifer Gruning watched the TV set as the
senior Senator from Iowa yielded to a question. “Would the senator
from Iowa yield to a question?” “I would gladly yield to a question
from my colleague from Kansas.” And why not, Jennifer thought. The
Senator from Kansas then asked a few easy questions about the
pending agriculture bill. “Does this bill differ from previous
legislation by targeting subsidies at small farms?” “And isn’t it
true that this legislation conforms with WTO requirements designed
to restrict subsidies over a period of years?” The Senator
responded yes to both questions, never mind that the bill, which
had become something of a running joke on Capitol Hill for the
extent of its largesse, actually increased farm subsidies. Would
the WTO ever get around to eliminating agriculture subsidies?
Maybe, but in the meantime it was more important to keep the peace.
So the United States, France and others would continue to subsidize
their farmers at the expense of the third world, Jennifer thought
and felt herself getting carried away, and calmed herself and
regained her focus. You’ve been reading too many talking points
from Oxfam, she thought. Just let it go, after all you work for the
senior Senator from Iowa. Be practical, she told herself, you can’t
expect to limit farm subsidies as the foreign affairs legislative
assistant to a senator whose constituency depends on corn
production.

Jennifer knew better. It had been three years
since, when, with newly issued law degree in hand, she had gone to
work in the Senator’s office. She was practical. Thin, plain and
smart, she did her job well, covering the Senator’s issues for his
seat on the Foreign Affairs Committee. And there had been some
successes, but success was incremental and it often came in the
form of additional spending. She had succeeded in persuading her
boss to back provisions for looser patent restrictions and to allow
production of more generic drugs, and the Senator was willing,
despite the pharmaceutical lobby. The Senator liked her and trusted
her, and she actually had her own office with a door, a prize on
Capitol Hill, even if it was only marginally larger than a closet
and she had to share it with “her” intern. Nevertheless, she was
becoming distracted by the everyday compromise of politics. She
even bothered to meet with the legislative director about the farm
bill. He heard her with a show of understanding and concern before
turning her down.

“But really Jennifer, what do you
expect?”

“Even if we gave you the issue, what would
you do with it?” he asked. “Richard is a Senator from Iowa after
all – you don’t expect him to commit political suicide?”

“C’mon now Jennifer, you’re not new to this,
you know how it works.”

“Look, if you want you can write a memo on
the subject from the foreign affairs perspective, you know how we
subsidize cows ten dollars a day while the average African lives on
less than two. You know the usual talking points.”

She had taken some offense to his cavalier
attitude but knew he was right, she did know how it worked. Why was
she making such a fuss, this was not the first time she had seen
passage of a farm bill. Distracted and a little annoyed, she
watched as her intern, Jay, clowned on the telephone. Smug in an
endearing naïve sort of way, when he first started he wanted to
know the names of the “watering holes” where the old time
journalists hung out. He would probably do well in politics. Now he
was calling Chinese restaurants and patching them together on
speaker phone.

“Hello Dragon take out, can I take your order
please?” said a man in heavily accented English over the
speaker.

“Hello Szechuan Gardens, how can I help you?”
asked another.

“Yes, Dragon Takeout, what can I get
you?”

“This is Szechuan Gardens, can I take your
order?”

“Yes what would you like?”

“No you called me, can I take your
order?”

“No you called me.”

“I didn’t call you, you called me.”

“Do you want an order?”

“Click”

“Click”

For some reason, Jay thought the idea of two
people arguing in heavily accented English for no real reason was
hysterical. Jen was becoming impatient. She frowned at him.

“Ah c’mon that was funny.”

“You have any work to do?”

“Yeah, I’ve got work to do.”

“Because if you don’t, I’m sure I can find
something for you to do.”

“Okay, okay, I can take a hint. I’ll go now,
I have some important copying to do.”

Jennifer put on her jacket and sat down
again. She sorted through the papers on her desk until she found
the background information on the Association of American Mining
Interests. Why was this a foreign affairs issue, she wondered, and
why were they interested in meeting with her. The Association of
American Mining Interests represented a consortium of mining
companies headquartered in the United States with interests in both
the United States and overseas. According to the brochure, the
Association was represented by the Washington law firm of Jones,
Case and Wadell.

Jennifer crossed through reception and
entered the office’s main conference room where she was greeted by
three men, one of whom she recognized. David, the legislative
director, was talking to two men as if they were old friends. She
was surprised to see him, senior staff didn’t usually bother with
routine meetings with lobbyists. All three stood as she entered and
David waved at her.

“Here she is, hey Jennifer,” as if they had
just been speaking of her.

“Hello all, hope I’m not interrupting” she
said smiling.

“We were just catching up, let me introduce
you.”

Jennifer bristled a little but kept smiling,
she preferred to make her own introductions.

“Jennifer Gruning – Edward Talbot”

Thin average height, glasses and grey
thinning hair, he looked every bit the lawyer including the bow
tie.

“Nice to meet you Jennifer”

“Nice to meet you as well”

Next to him stood another younger version of
Edward. With more hair cropped short and a hint of gel and also
wearing a bow tie, it was Edward 2.0.

“And Jennifer this is Greg Block”

“Hi Jennifer it’s nice to meet you”

“It’s nice to meet you too”

They stumbled around for a moment everybody
maneuvering around the crowded conference room to shake hands.

“Seems like you already started, I think I’m
a bit behind.” She glanced at Dave.

“No, no we were just catching up” said
Edward.

“Well then what can I do for you gentlemen,
or we, what can we do for you,” gesturing at David now sitting with
one finger to his lips.

Edward started off, “well first of all, I
want to thank you, both of you, for meeting with us. I know it’s a
busy time and I’ll try not to take too much of your time.”
Dispensing with the niceties, he launched into the heart of the
matter. “I’ll get right to the point, as you know our association
represents a number of mining companies. They do business all over
the world and have interests and offices in a number of countries.
This of course creates a lot of opportunities, but also challenges
and obstacles.” He continued with what appeared to be a well
rehearsed introduction. Jennifer shifted in her seat waiting for
the punch line. She always hoped they would just tell her what they
wanted and get on with it. “Our members of course accept that they
will be subject to the laws of the countries in which they do
business. We of course don’t object to that. Our problem and what
we do object to is restrictions by extranational organizations with
contested jurisdiction.”

Extranational organizations with contested
jurisdiction, sounds like a mouthful, she was tempted to interrupt
just to hear him say it again.

“Our members want to be cooperative and like
I said, fully expect to comply with all national laws, but would
like some reasonableness…”

“I’m sorry, you said extranational
organizations, are we talking about the UN?” She was becoming
impatient and wanted to move things along.

“Well yes, the UN would be one example among
others.”

“And another would be?”

“Well, another example would be the
International Criminal Court.”

“The ICC? In the Hague?”

“Yes, the same”

“Okay, Okay” she responded looking at David
now for some clue as to where this was heading. He sat plaintively
looking at his hands.