"I was going to compliment you, Colonel," McNab said, "on your recruiting poster appearance. But curiosity overwhelms me. Where did that animal come from?"
"Sir, I'm going from here to Rucker. I thought Class A's would be a good idea."
"And the animal?"
"That's Max, sir. I'm keeping him for a friend."
Neidermeyer came down the stairs.
"Jamie," General McNab said. "Didn't your mother ever tell you that you will be judged by the company you keep?"
"Good afternoon, sir," Neidermeyer said. "Good to see you, sir."
"It won't be afternoon for another twenty-four minutes," McNab said. "But I'm glad to see you, too. Gentlemen, this is Sergeant Neidermeyer, one of the better communicators from the stockade. The splendidly attired officer is Lieutenant Colonel Castillo, and all the terrible things you have heard about him are true."
The colonel walked around McNab and offered Castillo his hand.
"Tom Kingston, Castillo," he said. "And I have to tell you that on the way here, the general told Inman"-he nodded toward the young officer-"that he hopes whatever you have that made you the best aide he ever had is contagious, because maybe he'll get lucky and catch it."
"Colonel Kingston," General McNab said, "who betrays my confidential remarks at the drop of a hat, was wondering what you're doing here, Charley. I couldn't tell him. Are you going to tell him? Or are you going to let him stumble around in the dark?"
"This might not be the best place to get into that, sir."
"Okay. Inman, take Sergeant Neidermeyer-and the airplane crew and that animal-somewhere nice for lunch. Eat slowly. When you're finished, bring them by my quarters. By then, Colonel Kingston, Lieutenant Colonel Castillo, and I will probably be through saying unkind things about enlisted men and junior officers."
"Yes, sir," the aide said.
McNab made a Follow me gesture and started marching across the tarmac.
Mrs. Donna McNab kissed Castillo on the cheek before he was completely through the front door.
"Oh, it's good to see you, Charley!"
"For God's sake, don't encourage him," General McNab said. "I'm trying to get rid of him before he gets me in trouble again."
"How long can you stay?" she asked, ignoring her husband.
"Maybe an hour and a half," Castillo said.
"The Naylors will be really disappointed. They won't be back until tomorrow afternoon."
"Me, too. It would have been great to see them."
She looked at McNab and said, "Everything's set up on the patio, darling. I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt that this is important and will leave you alone."
"Thank you. It is," McNab said, made another Follow me gesture, and led Colonel Kingston and Castillo through the house and out back to a walled patio.
There was a gas grill, a side table on which sat a plate of T-bone steaks and another of tomatoes, and a small patio table that seated four and had place settings for three.
"I will now be able to state that my former aide landed here for fuel, and I entertained him at lunch at my quarters," McNab said. "Purely a social occasion."
Castillo nodded his understanding.
"We are having steak and tomatoes," McNab went on, "because I am on a diet that allows me all the meat I want to eat and small portions of fresh vegetables. While I am cooking the steaks, you can bring Kingston up to speed. Or as much speed as you feel appropriate."
"Yes, sir," Castillo said. "Colonel, I have to begin this with the statement that everything I tell you, or you intuit, is classified Top Secret Presidential."
"Understood," Kingston said. "Maybe it would clear the air a little, Colonel, if I told you that the secretary of Defense has called General McNab and instructed him to give you whatever you ask for, and that you would tell us only what you felt was appropriate."
Castillo nodded.
He began, "A DEA agent named Timmons has been kidnapped in Paraguay. The President has promised the mayor of Chicago that he will get this guy back, and tasked me to do so…"
"…and there is one more problem," Castillo said when he had finished explaining what he had planned and the problems he saw in doing it.
General McNab, his mouth full of steak, gestured for him to go on.
"The agency is apparently running an operation down there to catch these people in the act of bringing drugs into the States aboard cruise ships. They intend to seize the ship-ships, plural-under maritime law. A guy named Milton Weiss"-he paused to see if either McNab or Kingston knew of Weiss, and when both shook their heads, went on-"came to see me last night and as much as told me to butt out."
McNab held up his hand as a signal to wait until he had finished chewing. That took at least ten seconds.
McNab then said, "That sort of operation, I would think-correct me if I'm wrong, Tom-would be run by the DEA or the Coast Guard or, for that matter, the Navy. They've got an ONI operation in Key West to do just that sort of thing." He looked at Kingston, who nodded his agreement. "So what does Montvale have to say about this?"
"Montvale doesn't know about it," Castillo said.
"The agency is up to something like that and the director of National Intelligence doesn't know about it?" McNab said.
"Maybe doesn't want to?" Kingston asked.
"I don't think he knows," Castillo said. "He was there when the President gave me this job. He didn't think it was a good idea. Neither did Natalie Cohen. I think if he-and now that I think of it-he or Natalie knew about this agency operation, one or the other or both would have used it as an argument to get the President to change his mind."
"Unless, of course, they know the President well enough to judge that he was not in a frame of mind to change his mind," McNab said.
"I don't think he knows," Castillo said. "I don't think either of them do."
"How did this Weiss character know what you're up to?" Kingston asked.
Castillo told them about Delchamps, and then that Miller had eavesdropped on the session with Weiss, and that both were willing to go with him to the President.
McNab thoughtfully chewed another piece of beef, then said: "My advice, Charley, would be to obey the last lawful order you received, which was to go get the DEA guy back."
"I was hoping you'd say that, sir," Castillo said.
"That was advice, Charley. I'm not in a position to give you orders."
"Yes, sir, I understand. But thanks for the advice."
"I hope it didn't change your mind about anything."
"No, sir. It did not."
"Good. Maybe you did learn something after all during all those years you were my canape passer."
Castillo chuckled. As long as he had been McNab's aide-de-camp, he had never passed a canape to the general's guests. McNab regarded the primary function of an aide-de-camp to be sort of an intern, an opportunity for a junior officer to see how senior officers functioned and learn from it.
He wondered if the young captain whom McNab had sent to feed Neidermeyer, Max, and the Gulfstream crew understood this.
McNab had never said anything to me. I had to figure it out myself; that was part of the training.
"Okay, Tom. What do you think?" McNab said.
And that's something else I learned from Bruce J. McNab. I'd heard about it at the Point, but I learned it from him.
A wise officer gets-even if he has to force the issue-the opinions and suggestions of his subordinates before he offers his own, and, more important, makes any decisions.
That way, they say what they think, rather than what they think the boss wants to hear.
"Nothing, General, but how to get the Hueys down there black," Kingston said, thoughtfully. "That does not pose much of a real problem-except the usual ones, time and money. Castillo wants this done yesterday."
"With respect, sir, it's not me who wants it done yesterday," Castillo said. "But black outweighs time."
"How about money?" Kingston asked.
"You tell me how much is wanted, and where, and Dick Miller will wire it within a matter of hours."