"The what?" Sweaty asked.
"If a President of the United States can hide his girlfriend there, it should be good enough for mine," Castillo said. "How do you plan to get them there?"
"I wouldn't want Senator Johns to hear about this, but I have a limo, armored, with radios, et cetera, and driven by agency officers," Lammelle said.
"You want to fly them to Baltimore/Washington on Casey's airplane?" Castillo asked.
Lammelle nodded.
"And General Sirinov?"
"On the Tu-934A. If Roscoe can get Wolf News out there to cover its arrival-"
"He would be on TV and Murov would see that," Castillo interrupted, "but what do we do with him afterward?"
"I think General Sirinov would be comfortable in the Monica Lewinsky Motel," Lammelle said. "And he'd be available if we need him, and we probably will."
"Have you got enough people-people you can trust-to handle all this?"
"Yes, I do," Lammelle said. "Your call, Charley."
"What other options do I have?"
"Not many-none-that I can think of," Lammelle said.
Castillo counted something on his fingers, then announced, "There's room for Lester on the Tu-934A. So he goes, too, to sit on General Sirinov. Miller and Sparkman take the Spetsnaz to Cozumel as soon as they can-in the next thirty minutes-in our G-Three, then come back here and pick up Uncle Remus and Peg-Leg-and anybody I've forgotten. By then Uncle Remus and Peg-Leg will have Drug Cartel International all cleaned up. And then they go to Baltimore/Washington."
He paused for a good thirty seconds, and then asked, "Any comments?"
"I want to know about this motel," Sweaty said.
"You'll like it, sweetheart," Castillo said. "Inside plumbing and all the other conveniences one would expect in a Motel-8. Any other comments?"
There were none.
"Okay, then that's it. That's what we'll do." [SEVEN] Office of the Director The Central Intelligence Agency Langley, Virginia 1305 12 February 2007 "Keep me advised, Bruce," DCI John Powell said. "We absolutely can't afford to have this get away from us."
He took the telephone handset from his ear, very slowly replaced it in the base, then met the eyes of J. Stanley Waters, the DDCI for operations.
"Festerman says that Naylor called Central Command and ordered that a flight of F-16s meet him over the Gulf of Mexico prepared to escort his plane into U.S. airspace and then to Andrews."
"Where in the Gulf of Mexico? When?"
"Right in the goddamn middle of it. And right now."
"Where did he call from?"
"Mexico City," Powell said. "But I'm not sure I believe that. What I'm beginning to suspect is that Casey's communications is not quite as miraculous as advertised. Or that Casey is fucking with us."
"Why would he do that?"
"Maybe because he likes McNab more than he likes me."
"Do we know what kind of an airplane Naylor has?"
"No. And that bothers me, too. All Naylor told MacDill is the call sign. He told MacDill 'Big Boy' will be at thirty thousand feet moving at five hundred knots."
"That doesn't sound as if that's Naylor's Gulfstream."
"No, it doesn't. Which may be because Naylor's Gulfstream is on the tarmac at MacDill."
"I forgot that," Waters said.
"Yeah," Powell said.
"You think he has Castillo? Or the Russians? Or both?"
"Well, he could be smuggling drugs. But I'd say it's likely that he has either or both, wouldn't you?"
"Looks that way. What are you going to do?"
Powell picked up his telephone.
"This is DCI Powell. Get onto whoever would know and get me a track on all aircraft operating over the middle of the Gulf of Mexico, or headed toward the middle, at thirty thousand feet and five hundred knots. The one I'm looking for will probably not-repeat, not-have a transponder. Got it?"
He hung up.
"Are you going to tell the President, John?"
"No. I thought this would be our little secret."
He picked up a red telephone and punched one of the buttons on it.
"Jack Powell, Mr. President. I have just learned that General Naylor has ordered that a flight of F-16s…
"Mr. President, I assure you that I'm doing all that's humanly possible to add to what I know, what I just told you…
"Yes, sir, Mr. President, I'll leave here immediately…
"Yes, sir, Mr. President, I fully understand that I am to take no action of any kind in this matter without your prior permission."
[EIGHT]
The Mayflower Hotel 1127 Connecticut Avenue, N.W. Washington, D.C. 1745 13 February 2007 The manager on duty, who wore a frock coat with a tiny rose pinned to the lapel, intercepted the party before they were more than one hundred yards into the lobby.
"Mr. Barlow?"
"I am Thomas Barlow," Berezovsky said.
"My name is Winfield Broom, Mr. Barlow, I am the manager on duty. Welcome to the Mayflower."
"Thank you," Berezovsky said.
"From time to time, little mistakes are made, but sometimes-as now-they have a pleasant result."
"I don't think I understand."
"Well, when Mr. Darby called to make your reservations, we were of course happy to accommodate him and you. But then Mr. Darby called back a few minutes later and asked if Mr. von und zu Gossinger still kept an apartment here. I told him he did, although we haven't seen him for some time. And then thirty minutes after that, Mr. von und zu Gossinger himself called. He said he was skiing in Gstaad, but that he would be very pleased if you would stay in his apartment while you're here."
"That's very kind of Mr. von und zu Gossinger," Barlow said.
"Right this way, please," Mr. Broom said, gesturing toward the elevator bank. "This is really very nice," Svetlana said five minutes later. "Not at all what comes to mind when you hear 'motel.'"
"I'm glad you think so," Mr. Broom said. "Now, the sauna is separate…"
"Why does Mr. von und zu Gossinger call this hotel the 'Monica Lewinsky Motel'?" Svetlana asked.
"I'm sure I have no idea, madam," Mr. Broom said, just a little huffily. "Now, if you'll please come this way?" [NINE] Old Ebbitt Grill 675 15th Street, N.W. Washington, D.C. 1750 13 February 2007 "Truman, I told you that if we just waited, Roscoe would inevitably show up," Ambassador Charles M. Montvale said to Mr. Truman Ellsworth looking over his shoulder to the end of the massive bar. "Hello, Roscoe!"
"Your office said I could find you here," Danton said, taking a seat next to them at the bar.
"Waiting for my master's call, Roscoe. The odds are strongly against it ever coming."
"I'll have one of those," Danton said to the bartender. "And if these two are not already over their limit, give them another."
"What happened to you after we came back?" Ellsworth asked.
"I thought you would never ask," Danton said, and told them… "And Castillo's on the airplane with Naylor?" Ellsworth said when he finished.
"Naylor, McNab, and General Yakov Sirinov."
"That, I am having a hard time believing," Montvale said.
"What if I told you the airplane is a Tu-934A?"
"Even harder to believe."
"Charles, I think Roscoe is serious," Ellsworth said.
Montvale looked at Danton, who nodded.
"The plane should land at Andrews about nine o'clock," he said.
"And the Russians?"
"Maybe I'll tell you later. What I need right now is a way to get onto Andrews."
"I think we could arrange that," Ellsworth said. "And I submit, Charles, that we are indebted to Roscoe."
"I'd like to see this myself," Montvale said.
"And I would like somehow to get in touch with C. Harry Whelan, that sonofabitch, and get him and Wolf News out there," Danton said.
"That also I can handle," Ellsworth said. "He's been driving us crazy wanting to talk to us. The ambassador has qualms-which I frankly don't share-about embarrassing the President."
"The Office of the President," Montvale corrected him. "I would happily embarrass Clendennen but I can't figure out how to separate in the mind of the people the asshole from the office he holds."