Castillo didn’t say anything.
“Well, Charley?” Secretary Cohen asked finally.
“He does sound a little annoyed, doesn’t he? Not to mention paranoid?”
“He’s not kidding, Charley,” Cohen said. “There are four Secret Service agents in my outer office waiting for the order to arrest me.”
“Don’t worry, Charley,” another female voice bounced back from space. “Nobody’s going to arrest the secretary on my watch.”
“Hey, Brünnhilde,” Castillo replied. “How goes it? We could have used you here last night.”
“Why am I not surprised that you two are pals?” Secretary Cohen mused aloud.
“You didn’t need me,” Charlene Stevens replied. “Whoever that redhead was, she knows what she’s doing. I don’t think I could have thrown that clown so far myself.”
“She’s my fiancée, Charlene. Her name is Sweaty.”
“Actually, since I met my Carlito I’ve gotten a little out of shape,” the Widow Alekseeva said. “In my prime, I could have thrown that French pervert a lot farther.”
“Frank said you were a real looker,” Charlene said. “But he says that about everything in a skirt. I can’t wait to meet you.”
“You’ll have to come to our wedding,” Sweaty said.
“When and where?”
“There are four Secret Service agents in my outer office,” Secretary Cohen repeated. “What do I do about them?”
“Unless you’ve got a better idea, Charley,” Charlene said, “what I’m going to do is pepper-spray them, then drag them into the ladies’ room, strip them down to their undershorts, and then handcuff them to that automatic flush sensor thing on the toilets. That should hold them until Frank can get You Know Who into a straitjacket and over to the Washington Psychiatric Institute.”
“Oh, my God!” Secretary Cohen moaned.
“That’d work, Charlene,” Charley said, “but before you do that, let’s see if the Joshua Ezekiel and Belinda-Sue Clendennen Presidential Library and Last Resting Place doesn’t take the Commander in Chief’s mind off throwing the secretary of State into the slam.”
“What?” Charlene asked, obviously confused.
“Now what the hell are you talking about, Charley?” Secretary Cohen asked.
Her use of the word “hell” was the third time in two years that she had used a term that could possibly be interpreted to be profane, vulgar, or indecent.
“Sweaty came up with this,” Charley said. “Everyone agrees it’s brilliant.”
And then he explained the Joshua Ezekiel and Belinda-Sue Clendennen Presidential Library and Last Resting Place to her.
“That’s what you were really doing at the Greenbrier, Madam Secretary, meeting with the public-spirited citizens who are going to fund the library. And what Roscoe was doing here was getting the story for his millions of readers and of course Wolf News.”
“And that’s why your fiancée threw the French gentleman at him, right? President Clendennen isn’t going to believe this, Charley.”
“He will when Dr. Aloysius Casey shows him the cashier’s check for ten million dollars.”
Dr. Casey said, “I’ll throw in a million, two million if I have to, but I’m not going anywhere near that craz — the President. No way, Charley.”
“You have been running at the mouth, Aloysius, about once a Green Beret, always a Green Beret,” Castillo said. “Now it’s time to put up. This Green Beanie needs your help.”
“Well, if you put it that way,” Dr. Casey said reluctantly. “I guess I do hear the bugler sounding ‘Boots and Saddles.’”
“Into the valley of madness, so to speak,” Annapolis said, chuckling, “rides the Merry Irish Outlaw.”
“One more word out of you, Admiral, and you’ll be on Aloysius’s Gulfstream with him,” Castillo said.
“My lips are sealed,” Annapolis said.
“And where do you plan to be, Charley,” Secretary Cohen asked, “when all this is going on?”
“I haven’t quite decided that yet—”
“Cozumel,” the Widow Alekseeva furnished.
“Suffice it to say, a considerable distance from our nation’s capital and the Commander in Chief.”
“Arranging the wedding details,” the Widow Alekseeva concluded. “You’re invited, too, of course, Madam Secretary. You and your husband, even if you’re not sure he’d defend your honor if some French pervert shouted at you to show him—”
“If You Know Who is really curious, Madam Secretary,” Castillo interrupted, “tell him that I’m somewhere in the Western Hemisphere training SEALs to defend our merchant ships from the Barbary — excuse me, Somalian pirates.”
“What SEALs?”
“The ones I’m going to tell General Naylor you said it’s all right to send to me in Mexico. I think you’d have to agree that hearing I’m training SEALs would please You Know Who more than hearing I’m going to Mexico to get married. I’m going to call General Naylor just as soon as we get off our CaseyBerrys.”
“You’re insane. This whole thing is insane,” Secretary Cohen said. “I refuse to have anything to do with it.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Castillo said. “In that event, I’m all ears to hear your solution to the problem.”
There was a long, long pause, finally broken by Secretary Cohen.
“How long do you think it will take for Dr. Casey to come to Washington?” she asked.
“Flight time in his Gulfstream, plus however long it takes for him to go by the bank to pick up the check and get to the airport.”
“Please have him call me when he’s an hour out of Reagan National.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The green LEDs on the CaseyBerrys faded after the secretary of State broke the connection.
“May I ask, Colonel, how you plan to use the SEALs?” Annapolis asked.
“Of course you may,” Castillo replied. “I fully understand why a former naval person such as yourself would be curious.”
This was followed by sixty seconds of silence, following which Annapolis asked, “Well, are you going to tell me?”
“Frankly, I’m still considering my options,” Castillo admitted.
“In other words, you don’t know.”
“Don’t be cruel, Admiral. You know that in time I’ll think of something.”
“The Czarina of the Gulf,” the Widow Alekseeva said.
“Isn’t it amazing how great minds march down similar paths?” Castillo asked. “I was just thinking of her.”
“Our marriage will be much happier, my darling,” the Widow Alekseeva said, “if you remember I always know when you’re lying to me.”
“Female intuition?”
“Actually, I think it’s more a course I took — Advanced Interrogation Techniques 204/2—at the SVR Staff College.”
“Who the hell is the Czarina of the Gulf?” Annapolis inquired.
“Not a ‘who,’ Admiral. A ‘she.’ The Czarina of the Gulf is the flagship of the Imperial Cruise Lines, Incorporated.”
“My darling,” the Widow Alekseeva interrupted, “get it right. That’s the Imperial Cruise Lines and Floating Casinos, Incorporated.”
“And a great operation that is,” Hotelier said admiringly. “They pack more people per square foot onto their vessels than any other cruise ship line and their food cost per passenger is the lowest in the industry. And from what I hear, their take from their casinos is just as good as mine, maybe a little better.”