The obscenity and a general slurring of speech confirmed to Danton that the ambassador and Ellsworth had been at the bar for some time.
Danton looked at Ellsworth with a raised eyebrow.
"The ambassador is no longer on the red phone circuit," Ellsworth said. "The President won't even return the ambassador's calls. And we no longer have access to the White House Yukon fleet."
"That sonofabitch!" Danton said.
"He has also taken to referring to me as 'Ambassador Stupid,'" Montvale said. "The director of National Stupidity."
Ellsworth said, "You wouldn't look stupid, Charles, if you were at Andrews when Castillo and Company arrive."
"True."
"I've got some caveats," Danton said. "I don't want to get into the Congo-X business until Lammelle has a chance to deal with Murov, the rezident."
"My, people have been baring their hearts to you, haven't they, Roscoe?" Montvale asked.
"What I'd really like to do is have Sirinov on Wolf News, being carried off the Tu-934A."
"Carried off? He has been injured?"
"Sweaty shot him in the foot," Danton said.
"'Sweaty'?"
"Former Podpolkovnik Svetlana Alekseeva of the SVR," Danton said.
"And where did this altercation occur?"
"I can't tell you that. Not now."
"I don't want to be responsible in any way for any Congo-X being released anywhere," Montvale said.
"That's not a problem. We know how to kill it. We've killed all the Russians have. Hamilton's got some in his lab, but the Russians are out of ammo."
"How do you know that?" Montvale asked softly.
His speech, Danton noticed, was no longer slurred.
"Frank Lammelle told me thirty-five minutes ago. He was then at Fort Detrick."
Montvale considered that a moment, and then said, "Truman, be so good as to call Mr. Whelan. Tell him I will agree to be interviewed tonight, providing that it is on my terms, and that he and a camera crew are outside in thirty minutes."
"My pleasure," Ellsworth said.
"If he agrees, I will spend that thirty minutes getting those terms from Roscoe and drinking black coffee. I understand that the only thing that black coffee does to a drunk is make him a bright-eyed drunk, but perhaps C. Harry Whelan, who is not too bright, will not notice.
"If Whelan agrees to come, call the limousine service and have a car outside in thirty minutes."
"Yes, Mr. Ambassador," Truman Ellsworth said as he took his cell phone from his pocket. [TEN] The President's Study The White House 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, N.W. Washington, D.C. 2055 13 February 2007 DCI Jack Powell put his hand over the telephone microphone.
"Mr. President, that airplane is on final approach to Andrews."
"Have they got cameras out there? I want to see it," the President said.
"Wolf News does, Mr. President," presidential spokesman Jack Parker said, and, when the President turned, pointed to one of the televisions mounted on the wall.
The monitor showed a flashing banner-WOLF NEWS BREAKING NEWS ANDREWS AIR FORCE BASE WASHINGTON DC-and an image of the Tu-934A making its approach.
"Turn the fucking sound up, Porky! I'm not psychic!"
The stirring strands of the "William Tell Overture" filled the President's study.
"Shit," the President said, then asked, "What kind of an airplane is that?"
"I believe that's a Tupolev Tu-934A, Mr. President," Powell said.
"Where the hell did Naylor get that?" the President asked rhetorically. Wolf News cameras followed the airplane as it touched down, and until its landing roll took it far down the runway.
Then C. Harry Whelan and Roscoe J. Danton appeared on the screen.
"Good evening. This is C. Harry Whelan. What we all have just seen is the landing of a super-secret Russian airplane, the Tupolev Tu-934A. And standing with me is my good friend, the distinguished, prize-winning journalist Roscoe J. Danton of The Washington Times-Post, who knows the details of this incredible intelligence accomplishment."
"What the hell is he talking about?" the President asked.
"Thank you, Harry," Danton said, patting Whelan's back almost affectionately. "The CIA has had a long-standing offer of one hundred and twenty-five million dollars to anyone who could bring them one of these airplanes. That prize-I see the deputy director of the CIA, Franklin Lammelle, standing over there beside our director of National Intelligence, Ambassador Charles M. Montvale, both of them wearing big smiles; they were the brains behind this incredible operation-"
"What the hell is Lammelle doing out there with Ambassador Stupid?" the President asked. "I thought he was with Naylor, getting Castillo and those Russian traitors."
"I don't know, Mr. President," DCI Powell said.
"-has apparently just been claimed by two recently retired American officers, Colonel Jacob Torine, U.S. Air Force, and Lieutenant Colonel Carlos Castillo, U.S. Army."
"Oh, for Christ's sake!" the President said.
"Where did they get it, Roscoe?" Whelan asked.
"From an island off an unnamed South American country."
"How do you know that, Roscoe?"
"I'm proud to say I was with them, Harry."
"But you won't identify that country?"
"I don't think I'd better at this time, Harry."
"But you are telling the millions of Wolf News watchers that these two former officers-"
"Retired officers, Harry."
"All right, Roscoe, old buddy, 'retired' officers. These two retired officers invaded an unnamed South American country-"
"'Invaded,' Harry, implies boots on the ground. We were on the ground twelve minutes and twenty-two seconds. You really can't call that an invasion, can you?"
"-and stole this super-secret Russian airplane-"
"I think that they like to think they 'took possession of it,' Harry."
"And now the CIA is going to pay them one hundred and twenty-five million dollars?"
"That's what Franklin Lammelle told me earlier today."
"We've heard that General Allan Naylor is aboard that airplane. True?"
"As soon as they reached American soil, they turned it over to the military. I don't really know what happened after that, but I can guess."
"Please guess, Roscoe, for the millions of Wolf News viewers around the globe watching this exclusively on Wolf News."
"I would guess that General Naylor decided the Tu-934A belonged in Washington, and that since Colonel Torine and Colonel Castillo were the only ones who knew how to fly it…"
"Well, that makes sense," Whelan said. "Oh, look, here it comes! Get a shot of that!"
The monitor showed the Tu-934A taxiing to where Whelan and Danton were standing. Then the aircraft turned around, the engines died, and the ramp started to slowly open.
A siren was heard, and then an ambulance appeared on the screen.
"An ambulance!" C. Harry Whelan said. "Looks like someone on the T-O-whatever you said…"
"Tu-934A, Harry. Yes, I would say that the appearance of an ambulance would suggest there's someone in need of medical attention."
Two men in white coats got out of the ambulance and ran up the ramp. Moments later, they came out carrying an unconscious man on a stretcher. Lester Bradley walked beside them.
"Who's that, Roscoe?" Whelan asked.
"I have no idea," Danton said. "I don't speak Russian and he doesn't speak English."
"Who the fuck was that on the stretcher?" the President of the United States inquired.
"The guy on the stretcher, Mr. President, was General Yakov Sirinov," DCI Powell said.
"What happened to him, Roscoe?"
"Another Russian shot him. I don't think he's seriously wounded."
The stretcher was loaded into the ambulance.
Colonel Torine and Lieutenant Colonel Castillo appeared in the door, acknowledged the applause of the Air Force personnel, and then trotted down the ramp, with Max beside them. They got into the ambulance, which immediately drove off.
Generals Naylor and McNab appeared in the ramp door, walked down it, and got into a staff car. "I want those two bastards here in thirty minutes," the President ordered. "I want-"