"Cut to the chase, Andrews. And what did Darby have to say about Castillo and the Russians?"
"Nothing, sir."
"He was arrested, right? He's in custody?"
"No, sir."
"You're telling me the Immigration people had this guy, and then he got away? My God!"
"Sir, there never has been a warrant out on Mr. Darby-just the LDND order."
"What's the point in locating somebody and then not arresting him?"
"Sir, even if there is an arrest warrant," the attorney general explained, "and in this case no warrant has been issued, it's sometimes useful to see where the subject goes, and to whom he talks."
"Well, where did Darby go, and who did he talk to?"
"He flew here, sir, into Reagan National," Andrews said. "By that time, the Secret Service was on him, and they followed him to a residence at 7200 West Boulevard Drive in Alexandria. That site, sir, was already under Secret Service surveillance. It has been since the LDND order was issued. It is owned by Colonel Castillo."
"Don't tell me Castillo has been there, right under the nose of the Secret Service, all the time?"
"No, sir. We don't believe that he is."
"So, when you finally found out where this Darby character is, and who he was talking to, what did he say when you asked him where Castillo and the Russians are?"
"What happened at that point," Andrews began, "was that Supervisory Special Agent McGuire-"
"I know Tom," the President interrupted. "Good man, if it's the same guy. Used to be on the presidential protection detail, right?"
"Yes, sir. That's the man. Sir, McGuire notified me about Darby's location, and first thing this morning, a minute or two after seven, I was at the door-"
"He notified you last night! Why didn't you go over there last night?" the President demanded.
"It was after midnight, Mr. President."
"So what?"
"Perhaps you're right, Mr. President. I deferred to Mr. McGuire's judgment. Now I realize that was probably a mistake, too."
"Okay, so there you were-was McGuire with you…?"
"Yes, sir."
"… at the door of this house at seven in the morning. Then what happened?"
"At first, Mr. President, they wouldn't even let us in. They had a lawyer, a Japanese gentleman, who said his name was Yung-"
"Sir," the attorney general interjected, "I think there is a very good chance that this lawyer is a former FBI special agent named David W. Yung, Jr., who is also under a LDND order. And he's of Chinese, not Japanese, ancestry-"
"Why are we looking for this ex-FBI agent-slash-lawyer of some kind of Oriental ancestry?" the President interrupted. "And what's that got to do with anything?"
"He was one of Castillo's men in OOA, Mr. President," the attorney general said.
"So, what happened at the door?" the President asked.
"We identified ourselves, and asked if we could come in. Yung said not without a search warrant. He also said that if they did let us in, it would constitute a waiver of the owner's rights against unlawful search, and they weren't going to do that."
"It has to be Yung," the attorney general thought aloud. "An FBI agent, lawyer or not, would know about that decision of the Third Circuit Court of Appeals."
"So you didn't get in. Then what?" the President said.
"We got in, sir," Andrews said. "After I promised that I understood we were being admitted only as a compassionate gesture on the part of Mrs. Darby to get us out of the snow and the cold, and that she had not waived any of her rights vis-a-vis unlawful search and seizure. And they filmed us acknowledging that, sir."
"They filmed you?" the President asked incredulously.
"Yes, sir. There was another man there with what looked to me like a professional movie camera."
"And then? Jesus Christ, cut to the goddamned chase!"
"Mr. Darby was in the kitchen, sir," Andrews said.
"And did you ask him if he knew where Colonel Castillo and the two Russians are, and if you did, what did he say?"
"He was evasive, sir. And the lawyer said that if Mr. Darby found himself being interrogated by a federal officer, he would advise him, as his lawyer, not to answer any questions the answers to which might tend to either incriminate him, or cause him to violate the CIA secrecy laws which forbid him to ever disclose anything he learned while he was an officer of the Clandestine Service."
"Mr. President, I'm afraid we're not going to learn much from Mr. Darby," the attorney general said.
"I was beginning to suspect that," the President said, thickly sarcastic.
"There is one thing we can do, Mr. President," Andrews said.
"What's that?"
"We can squeeze Mrs. Darby. When she told McGuire her husband was in Ushuaia with his girlfriend, information on which Ambassador Montvale based his decision to go to Ushuaia, she had invited McGuire into her home. She had waived her rights when she did so. Giving false information to a federal officer is a felony."
The President considered that a long moment.
Then he picked up his telephone and said, "Come in here."
A secretary and a Secret Service agent appeared almost immediately.
"Are we in touch with Ambassador Montvale?"
"Yes, sir," the Secret Service agent said. "He's in Ushuaia, Argentina. There's a communications radio in his Gulfstream III."
"Send the ambassador a message, please," the President said. "'Mr. Darby is in Alexandria, Virginia. You can come home now, repeat, now.'"
"Yes, sir," the secretary said. "Is that all of it, Mr. President?"
"That's all of it. Get that right out, please."
"Yes, Mr. President," the Secret Service agent said.
When they had left, closing the door behind them, the President turned to Mason Andrews.
"You heard that, Andrews?"
"Yes, sir."
"If you think, when the ambassador gets back here, that Wolf News is going to take a picture of him in a courtroom, with his hand on a Bible, swearing before God and the world that he-my director of National Intelligence-went halfway around the world on my orders as commander in chief on the word of a housewife having her little joke at our expense, you're even more incredibly stupid than you showed you were this morning, Andrews.
"Now get the fuck out of the goddamned Oval Office and never come back!" [TWO] 1155 9 February 2007 Word had quickly spread among the inner circle of White House functionaries that President Clendennen's current rage was one that would go down in history. So it was with a certain trepidation that White House Press Secretary John David "Jack" Parker stood at the door of the President's study and waited for permission to enter.
It was almost a minute in coming, but finally President Clendennen signaled with his fingers for Parker to enter.
"And what bad news are you bringing, Porky?" Clendennen asked.
"I'm afraid it's not good news, Mr. President."
"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Clendennen asked rhetorically. "Are you aware of what happened in here this morning?"
"No, sir. I understand the attorney general and Assistant Secretary Andrews asked for an appointment, but-"
"You know where Ambassador Montvale is?"
"In Argentina."
"The stupid sonofabitch! Director of National Intelligence, my ass. His title should be Director of National Stupidity. He'd damned well better be on his way back here."
"I'm afraid, Mr. President, that I don't understand."
The President related what had transpired earlier in his office, ending his narration with a question: "How would you describe, Porky, Ambassador Stupid standing up in court, with Wolf News filming him, and swearing on a Bible that he went to some goddamn place I can't pronounce in Argentina on my orders looking for a man who was just across the Potomac in Alexandria?"
Parker took a deep breath before replying.
"Sir, I would describe that as a public relations disaster."
"You're goddamn right it would be. But what could be worse than that?"
"Excuse me, sir?"