"Oh, no!"
"Oh, yes. Is Tom there?"
"He's at your house. Or at the Alexandria Police Department on the way to your house. He wanted to keep them from getting curious about all the sudden activity at the house."
"Can you get him on the horn and ask him to meet me at the house?"
"Done."
"Thank you. I'll bring you up to speed later, Agnes."
"That would probably be a very good idea, boss."
The connection was broken.
"Home, James," Castillo regally ordered the driver, who smiled and shook his head as he put the Yukon into motion.
"We have a Secret Service radio in here, Colonel," he said. "I can probably get McGuire for you, if you want."
"Thank you, but no. McGuire's likely to cause me trouble, but he's too smart to argue with Agnes."
"Are you through, Colonel?" the White House operator asked.
"Can you get my house, please?"
A moment later, a male voice announced, "Colonel Castillo's line."
There was something about the less than vibrant timbre of the voice that gave Castillo pause. And then he understood.
Jesus, it didn't take them long to put Lester to work, did it?
"Colonel Castillo, Lester."
"Yes, sir, I know. There's a voice recognition system on this. Just as soon as you said, 'Colonel Castillo,' your name popped up."
"What do you think it would have done if I had said, 'Clint Eastwood'?"
"Sir, as efficient as this system seems to be, I think it would have reported, 'Colonel Castillo.'"
"Yeah, it probably would have. Is Major Miller around there?"
"Yes, sir. One moment, sir. I'll get him for you, sir."
A few seconds later, Miller came on the connection.
"Yes, sir, Colonel, sir?"
"Dick, two things. First, keep everybody there."
"Too late. Mrs. Doherty drove off with him right after you left."
"Damn."
"He lives near here. I have a number. Want me to get him back?"
"No. If I need him, we can call. Anybody else gone?"
"No, but the troops are getting a little restless."
"Well, keep everybody there. I'm on my way."
"Done. And?"
"And?"
"You said two things."
"Oh, yeah. See if Lorimer has a uniform. If he does, put him in it. And I'm presuming you brought mine from the hotel?"
"Freshly run one last time through their very expensive dry-cleaning operation. If I were to infer that the trumpets have sounded and that you and Pegleg are about to rush to the sound of musketry, would I be close?"
"A lot worse than that. I'll explain when I get there."
As the Yukon turned onto West Boulevard Drive, a red light-emitting diode (LED) on the telephone began to flash. Castillo looked at it, wondered what it was, and had just decided it meant he'd better pick up the phone when the driver said, "I think you'd better pick up, Colonel. That's the White House calling."
Oh, boy, another friendly offer of help from Montvale!
"Castillo."
"I just talked to that man in Chicago," the President of the United States said. "Timmons's family will be expecting you."
"Mr. President, I'm on my way to pack my bag."
"Reassure the family, Charley, that's the important thing. Make them understand the situation is under control. Get the mayor off my back."
In other words, lie through my teeth.
The situation is anything but under control.
"I'll do my best, sir."
"I've got a number for you to call. Got a pencil?"
"Just a moment, please, sir."
He furiously patted his pockets until he felt a ballpoint pen, dug it out, and knocked the cap off.
"Ready, sir."
Charley wrote the number the President gave him on the heel of his left hand.
"Got it, sir."
The President made him read it back.
"Right," the President said. "Let me know how it goes, Charley."
"Yes, sir."
"Good man!"
The line went dead.
"I don't suppose you've got a piece of paper, do you?" Charley asked the driver.
"There's a clipboard with a pad and a couple of ballpoints on a chain on the back of the other seat, Colonel."
Castillo looked. There was.
"Shit," he muttered.
He took the clipboard, wrote the number on the pad, tore the sheet off, and put it in his pocket. He then tried to erase the number from the heel of his hand with his handkerchief. He couldn't even smear it.
"Shit," he said again.
[TWO] 7200 West Boulevard Drive
Alexandria, Virginia 1005 2 September 2005 "You're dangerous, Charley," Colonel Jake Torine said after Castillo had related what had happened in the presidential apartment. "If I could figure out how, I'd get and stay as far away from you as possible."
Castillo raised an eyebrow. "It's damn sure not intentional. And whatever you do, don't call me Magnet Ass."
"Why not?"
"That one's been taken a long time, by one of you Air Force types. Fred Platt flew forward air controller covert ops over Laos as a Raven. He earned the name Magnet Ass drawing fire in supposedly unarmed Cessnas-0-1 Bird Dogs-and damn near anything else with wings."
"Platt? Didn't we just call him for-?"
"Yeah," Castillo interrupted before he could say anything more, "yeah, we did."
"I ask this because I don't know anything about the drug trade," Edgar Delchamps said, "and also because I am much too old to play John Wayne, but wouldn't I be of more use here working on the oil-for-food maggots?"
"No question about it," Castillo said. "It never entered my mind to bring you or Doherty in on this."
"Next question," Delchamps said. "Do I get to live here?"
"For as long as you want. The only thing I'd like you to do is keep an eye on Eric Kocian and Sandor."
Delchamps gave him a thumbs-up gesture.
"A good spook always takes good care of his sources. You might want to write that down, Ace." He stood up and said, "It's been fun, fellas. We'll have to do it again sometime. Let's keep in touch."
And then he walked out of the living room.
"What about me, Karl?" Alfredo Munz asked.
"I brought you along so you could be with your family and take them home," Castillo said. "But having heard all this, how would you feel about coming to work for us? We could really use you."
Munz didn't reply, and seemed uneasy.
"What is it, Alfredo?"
"I need a job," Munz said. "As much as I would like to do whatever I can to help you, I just can't support my family on my SIDE pension."
"I told you a long time ago we'd take care of you," Castillo said. "So that's not a problem. You've been on the payroll of the Lorimer Charitable amp; Benevolent Trust as a senior consultant ever since we took that chopper ride to Shangri-La."
"Why do I suspect you are lying, my friend?"
"Because I am," Castillo said. "But the only reason you haven't been on the payroll is because I'm stupid. You may have noticed."
"No," Munz said, emotionally. "The one thing you are not is stupid."
"Well, I have noticed, Colonel," Miller said. "I've known him a long time. And with that in mind, I brought the question up to Mrs. Forbison-you met her last night?"
Munz nodded.
"And Agnes decided that since you are, or at least were, a colonel, we should bring you on board as a Lorimer Charitable amp; Benevolent Trust LB-15, which is the equivalent of a GS-15 in the Federal Service. And, according to Army Regulation 210-50, a GS-15 is regarded as the equivalent of a colonel. The pay is $89,625 a year to start. Would that be satisfactory to you?"
"You are fooling with me, right?"
"Not at all."
"That much? My God, that's two hundred and seventy thousand pesos!"
Castillo thought, surprised: Miller isn't just making all that up. He and Agnes have given this thought, done the research, and come up with the answer.
"The Internal Revenue Service will take their cut, of course," Miller said. "But that's the best we can do."
"I don't know what to say," Munz said.
"'Yes' would work," Castillo said.
"If I retire, Charley," Torine said, "will you hire me?"