“Clearly,” Roscoe admitted.
“Well, Roscoe,” the President said, “no one’s looking now. Mulligan makes sure of that.”
“Now this is sort of delicate, Roscoe,” Hoboken said. “By that I mean if anything came out — by that I mean, if anything came out prematurely—in the interest of national security, the President would have to — by that I mean, I would have to, speaking for the President, as we don’t want to involve him at all — deny any knowledge of it at all. You understand that, of course.”
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Danton confessed.
“What he means, Roscoe,” the President said, “is that this is just between us. Okay?”
“What is just between us, Mr. President?” Danton asked.
“My out-of-the-box thinking that you asked him about.”
“And what exactly is that?”
“What would you say if I told you that I have decided to enlist the services of Lieutenant Colonel Castillo in my war against the Mexicans and the Somalians.”
“Your war against the Mexicans and the Somalians?”
“What the President meant to say, Roscoe,” Hoboken interjected, “is the Mexican drug cartels and the Somalian pirates. President Clendennen has absolutely nothing against the Mexican or Somalian people. Quite the opposite—”
“Roscoe knows that, for Christ’s sake,” the President said. “So, what do you think, Roscoe?”
“What do I think about what?”
“About getting Colonel Castillo’s opinion of the Mexican and Somalian problems.”
“What the President meant to say—” Robin Hoboken began.
“Roscoe knows what I meant,” the President interrupted. “Well, Roscoe?”
“I would say you have two problems, Mr. President,” Roscoe said. “The first is to find Colonel Castillo, and then to get him to agree to do what you want him to do.”
“A representative of General Naylor is going to meet with Castillo either late today or early tomorrow,” the President said. “He will relay to him my request that he enter upon temporary active duty to do what I want him to do.”
“That’s very interesting, Mr. President.”
“And as I’m sure you know, Roscoe, I’m the Commander in Chief, and Castillo is a retired officer so that ‘request’ is more in the nature of an order than a ‘pretty please.’”
“I suppose that’s true, Mr. President.”
“Now here’s where you fit in, Roscoe,” the President said.
“The President likes you, Roscoe,” Robin Hoboken said. “You must know that. He wouldn’t think of fitting anyone else in the White House Press Corps in. He told me that when I went to him and told him you had asked me if he had anything about his out-of-the-box thinking he wanted me to slip to you when no one else was looking. He said, correct me if I’m wrong, Mr. President, ‘It has to be old Roscoe who fits in, or nobody.’”
“That’s what I said,” the President confirmed. “And I’m sure you understand that when I said ‘old Roscoe’ it was a figure of speech. I don’t know exactly how old you are, Roscoe, but you certainly look younger than that. What I should have said was, ‘It has to be young Roscoe who fits in, or nobody.’”
“Fits in where, Mr. President?” Roscoe asked.
“You tell young Roscoe, Robin,” the President said.
“You probably have been wondering, Roscoe, what you may do for your President, not what your President can do for you, but if so, you’re wrong. This is a case where we’re going to tell you what the President is going to do for you, and later, what you can do for President Clendennen.”
“Which is?”
“I’m going to arrange for you to be with Colonel Castillo on this mission,” the President said. “Wherever it takes him, Mexico, Somalia, wherever.”
“I don’t think that Colonel Castillo would be agreeable to that, Mr. President,” Roscoe said.
“And while you’re with him you can keep the Commander in Chief and me up-to-date on how things are going,” Robin Hoboken added.
“I don’t think Colonel Castillo would be agreeable to me going along with him, Mr. President, and—”
“He was agreeable to you going along with him when he nearly got us into a war with Venezuela by invading their island and stealing that Russian airplane, so why not now? Besides, I’m not going to suggest he take you along; I’m going to tell him.”
“‘Whither Colonel Castillo goeth, thou wilt go,’ so to speak,” Robin contributed.
“… and,” Roscoe continued after a moment, “I know he won’t want me making reports on how, or what, he’s doing.”
“He doesn’t have to know about that,” the President said. “As a matter of fact, it would be better if he didn’t. Keep that part of this under your hat.”
Roscoe gathered his courage.
“Mr. President, I’m honored and flattered—”
“Why don’t you wait until the Commander in Chief tells you what he’s going to do for you before you thank him?” Robin asked, just a little sharply. “That way you would know what you’re thanking him for.”
“Robin and I are going to make sure, Roscoe,” the President said, “that as an expression of our appreciation for your cooperation in this matter, no one else will have the story. If I’m not mistaken, I think they call that a ‘scoop.’
“When it comes out — and it will — that my out-of-the-box thinking has caused significant advances in my unending war against the Mexicans and the Somalians—”
“The President meant to say, of course,” Robin interjected, “his war against the Mexican drug cartels and the Somalian pirates. As I said a moment ago, the President has nothing but the highest regard for the people of Somalia and Mexico.”
“Roscoe knows that, for Christ’s sake,” the President said, somewhat snappily. “Why do you have to keep telling him?”
“I thought, Mr. President, that it was better to repeat it, in case it had slipped Roscoe’s mind.”
“Do you know what a cretin is, Roscoe?”
“Yes, sir. A high-level moron.”
“And I’ll bet that someone like you knows what a rhetorical question is. Right?”
“I think so, Mr. President.”
“Sometime when you have a spare moment, Roscoe, you might tell Robin.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll be happy to.”
“As I was saying, Roscoe, when it comes out that we’re making significant advances against the drug cartels and the pirates, the press will wonder how that happened. They will ask questions, and I will tell them. A week after I tell you you can write the story about my out-of-the-box thinking. And you write the story. Now, is that a scoop, or isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir. That would be a scoop,” Roscoe replied. He found his courage again. “Mr. President, I can’t go along with this.”
“You know what would happen, Roscoe, if you refused an offer like this from your Commander in Chief?”
“No, sir.”
“A couple of things come immediately to mind,” the President said. “Like, for example, I ask your pal C. Harry Whelan to come see me, the way I asked you. And I tell ol’ C. Harry that I first thought of you to provide this service to your Commander in Chief, but then I heard something that really shocked me about you.”
“What would that be, Mr. President?”