"OOA now has a contract with ExecuJet," she said, "who promise to provide service at the airport of your choice within an hour, then transport you to any airport of your choice within the United States in unparalleled luxury and comfort."
"Two questions. Isn't that 'unparalleled luxury and comfort' going to be painfully expensive? And how do you think-what did you say, ExecuJet?-feels about dogs?"
"Expensive, yes. But painfully, no. You did hear that there has been a substantial deposit to our account in the Caymans…right at forty-six million?"
Castillo nodded. "Ill-gotten gains about to be spent on noble purposes," he said, mockingly solemn.
"You're taking Max with you?"
"Until I figure out what to do with him. Maybe my grandmother'd take care of him for me."
"I don't think that's a viable option, Chief," she said drily.
"And I'll have to take one of the new radios and our Sergeant Neidermeyer with me. Dick can work the radio here until we can get some more communicators up here from Bragg."
"Once more, Colonel, sir," Dick Miller said. "Your faithful chief of staff is way ahead of you. We now have four communicators, five counting Sergeant Neidermeyer. General McNab said to be sure to tell you how much he now deeply regrets ever having made your acquaintance."
"I'll give ExecuJet a heads-up," Agnes said. "Max won't be a problem. When do you want to leave?"
"As soon as whatever happens in there is over," he said, nodding at the door to the conference room. "First, I want to hit the commo room."
There were five young men in the small room off Castillo's office, which had been taken over as the commo room. There was something about them that suggested the military despite their civilian clothing-sports jackets and slacks-and their "civilian haircuts."
No one called attention, but the moment Castillo pushed open the door all of them were on their feet and standing tall.
"Good morning, Jamie," Castillo said to the young man closest to him, gesturing for the men to relax.
"Welcome home, Colonel," Sergeant James "Jamie" Neidermeyer said.
Neidermeyer, just imported from the Stockade at Bragg to run the OOA commo room, was a little shorter than Castillo, with wide shoulders, a strong youthful face, and thoughtful eyes.
"Thank you, Jamie. Unfortunately, I won't be staying. Got your bag packed?"
"Yes, sir."
"You don't have to leave our nation's capital, of course, Jamie. You could send one of these guys."
Castillo put out his hand to the next closest of the young men.
"My name is Castillo."
"Yes, sir. Sergeant First Class Pollman, Colonel."
As he repeated the process with the others, Max went to the near corner of the room and lay down, his eyes on Castillo and the room.
"What do you guys think of our new radios?" Castillo asked.
There was a chorus of "Outstanding, sir!" and "First class, sir!"
"We just talked to Colonel Torine, sir," Neidermeyer said. "He was five minutes out of Buenos Aires."
"Mrs. Forbison told me," Castillo said. "I guess Jamie has brought you up to speed on the new radios? And what we're doing here?"
Another chorus of "Yes, sir."
"Anyone got any family problems-girlfriend problems don't count-with working with us-here and elsewhere-for a while?"
Another chorus, this time of "No, sir."
"And everybody is on per diem, right? Which doesn't look like it's going to be enough for Washington?"
This time it was apparent that all of them were reluctant to complain.
"Mrs. Forbison will get you each an American Express credit card," Castillo said. "They will be paid by the Lorimer Charitable amp; Benevolent Fund, which understands the problems of a hardship assignment in Washington. Use them for everything-meals, your rooms, laundry-everything but whiskey and wild women. Save your per diem for the whiskey and wild women. There's a threat to go along with that: Make any waves that call any attention whatever to what's going on here and you will shortly afterward find yourself teaching would-be Rangers how to eat snakes, rodents, and insects in the semitropical jungle swamps at Hurlburt. Everybody understand that?"
That produced another chorus, this time with smiles, of "Yes, sir."
"Okay. I'm glad to have you. I know that Vic D'Alessando wouldn't have sent you if you weren't the best." He paused to let that sink in, then asked, "Questions?"
"Sir, what kind of a dog is that?"
"Max is a Bouvier des Flandres," Castillo said. "It has been reliably reported that one of his ancestors bit off one of Adolf Hitler's testicles during the first world war."
That produced more smiles.
"And you, Sergeant Phillips, are herewith appointed his temporary custodian. I've got to go sit around a table with some Washington bureaucrats, and I don't think Max would be welcome. Have we got anything we can use as a leash?"
Phillips opened a drawer in the table holding the radios and came out with a coil of wire from which he quickly fashioned a leash.
He handed it to Castillo, who looped it to the D-ring of Max's collar and then handed the end of it to Sergeant Phillips.
"Max, you stay," Castillo said, in Hungarian, and then switched back to English. "And while I'm gone, Jamie, make up your mind who's going with me."
"Ever willing to make any sacrifice for the common good, Colonel," Neidermeyer said, "I will take that hardship upon myself."
"Your call, Jamie."
"Where we going, sir?" Neidermeyer said. "Buenos Aires?"
"You like Buenos Aires, do you?"
"It is not what I would call a hardship assignment, sir."
"We're going to Rucker, Sergeant Neidermeyer. One more proof that a smart soldier never volunteers for anything."
Castillo raised his arm in a gesture of So long and walked out of the radio room and into his office.
Miller was sitting on the edge of his desk.
"They're waiting for you," he said, nodding toward the door to the conference room. "You want me to come along?"
"Please," Castillo said, and went to the door and opened it.
Truman Ellsworth, a tall, silver-haired, rather elegant man in his fifties, was standing at a lectern set up at the head of the conference table.
There were a dozen people sitting at the table, which had places for twenty. There were perhaps twice that number sitting on chairs against the walls, obviously subordinates of the people at the table, and not senior enough to be at the table.
The only person Castillo recognized was Milton Weiss. He was sitting near one end of the table, between a man and a woman, obviously the CIA delegation.
Castillo and Miller took seats halfway down the table across from Weiss, who looked at Castillo but gave no sign of recognition.
"If I may have your attention, ladies and gentlemen," Ellsworth said. "Now that Lieutenant Colonel Castillo, who is the representative of the Department of Homeland Security, has joined us, we can get this under way."
You pompous sonofabitch!
Should I have brought a note from my mommy saying why I'm late?
"My name is Truman Ellsworth. Ambassador Montvale had other things on his plate this morning and sent me to represent him. This is, as I said, an informal meeting, but in view of the sensitive material which may come to light, a Top Secret security classification is in place, and it is not to be recorded.
"As I understand it," Ellsworth went on, "the attorney general and the DNI, Ambassador Montvale, are agreed that there may well be intelligence aspects to the kidnapping of a DEA agent in Paraguay, and that it behooves us to share, informally, what information we have which might shed light on the situation.
"May I suggest that the principals identify themselves? Why don't we work our way around the table?"
He sat down and nodded to a swarthy man on his right.
"John Walsh, DEA," the man said.
"Helena Dumbrowsky, State Department," a somewhat plump, red-haired woman announced.
"Norman Seacroft, Treasury." He was a slight, thin man in a baggy suit.