Weiss looked at Delchamps.
"Always good to see you, Ed. We'll have to do lunch or something real soon."
And then he walked out of the room.
Castillo looked at Delchamps.
"Thanks a lot, Ed."
"If you want me to, Ace, I'll go with you to Montvale. Or the President. Or both."
Castillo looked at him with a raised eyebrow but didn't say anything.
"I said I went back a long way with Weiss. That's not the same thing as saying I liked him then, or like him now. And I don't like the smell of his operation."
He paused to let that sink in.
"That being said, I don't think that Montvale will believe you, or me, and his first reaction will be to cover his ass."
"What if there were three witnesses to that fascinating conversation?" Dick Miller asked, coming into the living room from the den. "I'm a wounded hero. Would that give me credence?"
"How long have you been in there?" Castillo asked.
"I got back here just as the Secret Service guy got booted out," Miller said. "And curiosity overwhelmed me."
"I still don't think that Montvale would believe you, me, or the wounded hero," Delchamps said, "and that his first reaction would be to cover his ass."
"So what do I do?"
"You're asking for my advice, Ace?"
"Humbly seeking same."
Delchamps nodded and said, "Aside from calling off Jake Torine and Munz, nothing. Give yourself some time to think it over. Hear what Weiss says at the briefing tomorrow."
"You better call off Munz and Torine," Miller agreed. "I don't think Darby and Solez are a problem. They don't know you've been ordered to get Timmons back. They went to Asuncion to shut mouths; that's to be expected."
"Let's hope Aloysius's radio works," Castillo said. "I told Torine to go right to Asuncion. They're probably already over the Caribbean."
He pushed himself out of his chair, picked up his mostly untouched drink, and walked to the den.
Max followed him.
VI
[ONE] 7200 West Boulevard Drive
Alexandria, Virginia 0630 4 September 2005 Castillo's cell phone buzzed, and on the second buzz, he rolled over in bed, grabbed it, rolled back onto his back, put the phone to his ear, and said, "You sonofabitch!"
"Good morning, Colonel."
Castillo recognized the voice as that of his Secret Service driver.
"It may be for you," Castillo said, "but I have just been licked-on the mouth-by a half-ton dog."
"I tried to put my head in your door to wake you, but Max made it pretty clear he didn't think that was a good idea."
"I'll be right down," Castillo said, and sat up.
Max was sitting on the floor beside the double bed.
Castillo put his hand on the bed to push himself out of the bed. The blanket was warm. He looked, and saw that the pillow on the other side was depressed.
"Goddamn it, Max, you're a nice doggie, but you don't get to sleep with me."
Max said, "Arf."
Castillo pulled open the door to the front passenger seat of the Denali. Max brushed him aside and leapt effortlessly onto the seat.
"Tell him to get in the back, Dick," Castillo said.
Major Dick Miller gave Lieutenant Colonel Castillo the finger and bowed Castillo into the second seat.
There was a muted buzz and the red LED on the telephone base mounted on the back of the driver's seat began to flash.
Castillo looked at it. The legend DNI MONTVALE moved across the screen.
Castillo picked up the handset.
"Good morning, Mr. Ambassador."
"Where are you, Charley?"
"We just pulled into a Waffle House for our breakfast."
"Are you open to a suggestion?"
"Yes, sir, of course."
"Vis-a-vis the briefing this morning: If I sent Truman Ellsworth, representing me, and he announced that you were representing Secretary Hall, I think fewer questions would be raised."
Truman C. Ellsworth was executive assistant to Montvale. He had worked for Montvale in a dozen different positions in government over the years. Montvale had tried to send him to work as liaison officer between the office of the director of National Intelligence and the Office of Organizational Analysis.
Recognizing this as an attempt to plant a spy in his operation, Castillo had declined the offer, and had to threaten that he would appeal it to the President to keep Ellsworth out of OOA. For this and other reasons-as Ellsworth seemed to be personally offended that the OOA did not come under Montvale's authority-Castillo knew he was not one of Ellsworth's favorite people.
His first reaction was suspicion-What's the bastard up to here?-but what Montvale was suggesting made sense. The less conspicuous he was, the better.
"That makes sense, Mr. Ambassador," Castillo said.
"I think so," Montvale said, and the connection was broken.
They all ordered country ham and eggs for breakfast. When Castillo was finished with his, he collected the ham scraps and silver-dollar-sized bone and put them onto a napkin.
"For the beast?" the Secret Service driver asked, and when Castillo nodded, added his to the napkin. And then Miller added his. The napkin now was full to the point of falling apart.
In the Denali, Max sniffed the offering. He then delicately picked up one of the pieces of bone. There was a brief crunching sound, and then he picked up another, crunched that, and then picked up the third.
"I wonder," the Secret Service man asked softly, "how many pounds of pressure per square inch that took?"
"Try not to think what he would have done to your arm had you tried to disturb my sleep," Castillo said.
[TWO]
Office of the Chief
Office of Organizational Analysis
Department of Homeland Security
The Nebraska Avenue Complex
Washington, D.C. 0745 4 September 2005 "Good morning, Chief," OOA Deputy Chief of Administration Agnes Forbison greeted Castillo. "And hello again, Max. Where's your sweetheart?"
"That's right," Castillo said. "You've met Max. Madchen is in the family way, and resting at the Motel Monica Lewinsky. It's a long story…"
"What are you going to do with him?"
"I don't really know," Castillo admitted. He switched to Hungarian. "Say hello to the nice lady, Max."
Max looked at him, then walked to Agnes, sat down, and looked up at her.
Agnes scratched his ears.
"What did you say to him?" she asked.
"I told him you had a pound of raw hamburger in your purse."
"I don't, Max," Agnes said to him. "But if you're going to be here for long, I'll pick some up at lunch." She looked at Castillo. "Is he? Going to be here for long?"
Castillo told her how he had come into temporary possession of Max. Agnes smiled and shook her head.
"Well, maybe he's just what you need, Chief. Every boy should have a dog. And it looks to me that he's not all that upset about getting the boot from his happy home."
Max had returned to Castillo and was now sitting beside him, pressing his head against Castillo's leg.
"He's an excellent judge of character," Castillo said.
"The intelligence community is gathering in the conference room," Agnes said. "Is there anything you need besides a cup of coffee before you go in there?"
She put action to her words by going to a coffee service on a credenza behind her desk and getting him a cup of coffee.
"Thank you, ma'am," Castillo said, and then asked, "What do we hear from Jake Torine?"
"He called five minutes ago. Over one of those new radios you got in Vegas."
"What did he have to say?"
"They just took off from Buenos Aires. That translates to mean that he'll be in Baltimore in about ten hours."
"I can't wait that long," Castillo said, thoughtfully. "And Jake'll be beat when he gets here."
"Wait that long for what?"
"I have to go to Fort Rucker."
"You want to go commercial-which may be difficult because of the hurricane-or are you in your usual rush?"
"What's the other option?" he asked as Dick Miller walked in.