"If he's wrong, and the Russians have warehouses full of Congo-X, or have the means inside Russia, or in Iran, or someplace else, to make more of it, then the United States is in deep trouble.
"So what we have to do is find out how much Congo-X they have. I don't think Putin would answer that truthfully. So we have to ask the only other man who might, General Yakov Sirinov."
"How the hell are you going to do that? And what makes you think he'll tell you the truth?" Danton asked.
"We're going to raid the Venezuelan airfield, La Orchila, grab the general, load him on his Tupolev Tu-934A, fly him here, and ask him."
"You're going to invade Venezuela?"
"We're going to launch a raid on a Venezuelan airfield, not invade. When you invade, you try to stay. With a little luck, we should be in and out in no more than fifteen minutes, twenty tops."
Danton repeated, "'Load him on his Tupolev'?"
Castillo nodded. "The CIA has a standing offer of one hundred twenty-five million dollars for a Tu-934A. We're going to get them one; we need the money."
"To answer your other question, Mr. Danton," Sweaty said, "once we get General Sirinov here, I'll be asking the questions. He will tell us the truth."
"And now you'll have to excuse me for a few minutes," Castillo said. "I have to go buy another Black Hawk. While I'm gone, we'll show you the surveillance tapes."
"'Buy another Black Hawk?'" Danton parroted.
"That's right," Castillo said. "You don't know how that works, do you?"
"Uh-uh."
"Well, the U.S. Army buys them from Sikorsky. They run right around six million dollars. Then the State Department sells them to the Mexican government-to be used in their unrelenting war against the drug cartels-for about one-tenth of that, say, six hundred thousand.
"The next thing that happens is that-in the aforementioned unrelenting war run by the Policia Federal Preventiva against the drug cartels-the helicopter is reported to have been shot down, or that it crashed in flames.
"Next, a Policia Federal Preventiva palm is crossed with a little money-say, a million or so-and the Black Hawk rises phoenix-like from the ashes. The drug cartels find them very useful to move drugs around. That tends to raise the price. The one downstairs cost us one point two million, and I have been warned that the bidding today will start at a million three."
"Incredible!" Danton said.
"Enjoy the movies, Mr. Danton," Castillo said. "I'll be back as soon as I can." [EIGHT] The Office of the Director of National Intelligence Eisenhower Executive Office Building 17th Street and Pennsylvania Avenue, N.W. Washington, D.C. 1210 11 February 2007 "Mr. McGuire is here to see you, Mr. Ambassador," Montvale's secretary announced.
"Ask him to come in, please," Montvale said, and, as Truman Ellsworth watched from a leather armchair, then rose from behind his desk and walked toward the door, meeting McGuire as he entered the office.
"Hello, Tom," Montvale said. "What can I do for you?"
McGuire hesitated, and then said, "I suppose you've heard I don't work here no more."
Montvale nodded. "Mason Andrews lost very little time in telling me; he was here two minutes after Truman and I got here this morning."
"How are you, Tom?" Ellsworth said.
He got out of his armchair, went to McGuire, and gave him his hand.
McGuire hesitated again.
"I decided I couldn't just fold my tent, Mr. Ambassador, without facing you and telling you I was sorry…"
"You're not going to be prosecuted, Tom, if that's what's worrying you. To do that, Andrews would need me to testify and I made sure he understands that's just not going to happen."
McGuire finished, "… but when I walked in here just now, I realized I couldn't do that. When Mrs. Darby told me Alex Darby was down there in…"
"Ushuaia," Ellsworth furnished.
"… with some floozy, I knew that wasn't so. And when I told you, I told myself that you were too smart to swallow that whole. But what I came to tell you, Mr. Ambassador, is that I hoped you would."
"I appreciate your honesty, Tom. Are you going to tell me why?"
"I just had enough of the whole scenario, Mr. Ambassador. I think what the President's trying to do to Charley Castillo is rotten. I didn't want to be part of it. I hope they never find him."
"Prefacing this by saying that I'm about to join you in the army of the unemployed…"
"Excuse me?"
"You've been around the White House for a long time, Tom. What inferences would you draw if I told you that that red telephone no longer directly connects the director of National Intelligence to the President?"
He gave McGuire time to consider that, then went on: "And when the director of National Intelligence-to whom the President is now referring to as the 'director of National Stupidity'-attempts to telephone the President using the White House switchboard, the President's secretary answers and tells me the President is busy and will get back to me. Or words to that effect."
"He's going to throw you under the bus, too?" McGuire asked.
"That is the inference I have drawn. Does that sound reasonable to you?"
"Then I am sorry, Mr. Ambassador. I didn't think what I did would cost you your job."
"What you did, Tom, probably contributed to that, but I don't think it was the only thing that made President Clendennen decide he could do without my services. He really isn't quite as stupid as he appears. I think it is entirely likely that he has known for some time what I think of him. He would like nothing better than to have Roscoe J. Danton write a column detailing how his director of National Stupidity went on a wild-goose chase to Ushuaia, but he can't do that because Roscoe would be sure to ask him why he sent Truman and me to Argentina in the first place, and he can't be sure how far he can push my reluctance to embarrass the Office of the President-for that matter, Clendennen himself-before it is overwhelmed by my contempt.
"Inasmuch as he knows that I won't oblige him by resigning, what he's doing is looking for a way to fire me in conditions that won't reflect adversely on him."
"Is Danton going to write about… you going to Ushuaia?"
"I don't know. I'm having trouble getting in touch with him. Just before you came in, Truman and I decided that we will take our lunch at the Old Ebbitt Grill. Not only are we fairly sure that the Executive Dining Room will no longer welcome us, but we suspect we can find Mr. Danton at one of his favorite watering holes, the Old Ebbitt.
"We'll have to walk. Truman and I no longer have access to the White House fleet of Yukons."
"My God!"
"If you don't mind the walk, Truman and I would be delighted if you were to join us."
"You don't have to do that, Mr. Ambassador."
"I want to do it," Montvale said. "Please join us." [ONE] Laguna el Guaje Coahuila, Mexico 1335 11 February 2007 "Sorry to have taken so long," Castillo said when he walked into the dining room trailed by Max. "Unexpected problems at the used helicopter lot."
"But you got another Black Hawk?" Sweaty asked.
"I got another one. But the price went up to one point four million, and I suspect it's not going to be as nice as the one downstairs."
"Colonel, can I ask where you're getting all that money?" Roscoe Danton said.
"The LCBF Corporation actually purchased the Black Hawks, and is loaning them to us," Castillo answered.
"That's 'those people' in Las Vegas?" Danton asked.
"Oh, no," Castillo said. "The LCBF Corporation has absolutely nothing to do with those people in Las Vegas."
"Then what the hell is it?"
"I'd really like to tell you, Roscoe," Castillo said solemnly. "I really would. But if I did, I'd have to kill you."
That earned a chuckle from not only the Special Operations people around the table-there was one more of them now, CWO5 Colin Leverette (Retired) having come in while they were watching the surveillance camera tapes-but also from Lieutenant Colonel (Designate) Allan Naylor, Jr.
General Naylor, however, who had heard the comment often, was not amused.