"Jesus Christ!"
"My fiancee is offended when someone takes the Lord's name in vain, Mr. Danton."
"Sorry."
"As I was saying… Dmitri, clever fellow that he is, reasoned that if he called off the Allamvedelmi Hatosag and I was not whacked, maybe I would show my gratitude to him by flying him and Sweaty out of Europe. Which is what happened."
"Is it?" General Naylor asked. "Is that what actually happened, Charley?"
"Yes, sir."
"I never understood why you would steal the defectors from the CIA," Naylor admitted.
"I didn't know about Miss Dillworth until later, General. What Dmitri told me at the time was that the SVR was going to be waiting for him and Svetlana in the Sudbahnhof in Vienna."
"So you flew them to Argentina? Why Argentina?"
"They have family there, sir," Castillo said.
"Well, why didn't you turn them over to the CIA in Argentina?" Naylor asked.
"Well, just about as soon as we got to Vienna, sir, Dmitri, as an expression of his gratitude, told me about the Fish Farm in the Congo. When Ambassador Montvale came down there, I tried to tell him about the Fish Farm, but he gave me the CIA answer: It was nothing but a fish farm."
"You still should have turned these people over to the CIA."
"Two reasons I didn't, sir. The first being that I believed Dmitri about the Fish Farm, and knew that if I turned them over to the CIA, they would not believe him, and that would be the end of it. I knew I had to follow that path."
"And the second reason?"
Castillo exhaled audibly.
"Maybe I… no… certainly I should have given this as my first reason, sir: By the time Montvale showed up in Buenos Aires, certain things had happened between Svetlana and me. I knew there was no way I was ever going to turn her or her brother over to the CIA, the Argentine SIDE, the Rotary Club of East Orange, New Jersey, or anyone else."
Naylor shook his head, but said nothing.
"In the end," Castillo went on, "that turned out, for several reasons, to be the right decision. I decided that my duty required I take action on my own. And that turned out to be the right decision, too. And is why I decided to take action on my own in that situation."
"What action was that, Colonel?" Danton asked.
"The question obviously was: 'What's really going on in the Congo?' There was only one way to find out. I arranged to send people in there to find out."
"On your own authority," General Naylor said. "You had no right to do that, and you knew it."
"I saw it as my duty to do just that," Castillo said.
"What exactly did you do?" Danton asked.
"I sent Colonel J. Porter Hamilton, the man who runs our bio-warfare laboratory at Fort Detrick, to the Congo with a team of special operators. He found out it was even worse than we suspected, told-more importantly, convinced-our late President of this, and the President ordered it destroyed."
"And what happened to you for doing what you did without authorization?"
"Well, for a couple of minutes the President wanted to make me director of National Intelligence… I'm kidding. What the President did was tell me to take everybody in OOA to the end of the earth, fall off, and never be seen again. And I've tried-we've all tried-to do just that."
"And?" Danton pursued.
"The curtain went up on Act Two. Two barrels of Congo-X appeared, one FedExed from Miami to Colonel Hamilton at Fort Detrick, the second left for the Border Patrol to find on the Texas-Mexico border."
"Where did it come from?"
"Almost certainly from the Congo. We know that a Russian Special Operations airplane-a Tupolev Tu-934A-landed at El Obeid Airport, in North Kurdufan, Sudan-which is within driving range of the Fish Farm-and took off shortly afterward, leaving seventeen bodies behind.
"We suspect it flew first to Cuba for refueling, and then it flew here, where two barrels of Congo-X were given to the Mexico City rezident of the SVR, who then drove off with them, presumably to get them across the border into the United States."
"How do you know that?" General Naylor challenged.
"We have it all on surveillance tape, sir. I'll show the tapes to you, if you'd like. There's a very clear picture of General Yakov Sirinov, who is apparently in charge of the operation. The Tupolev Tu-934A then left here, and is presently on the ground at La Orchila airfield. That's on an island off the coast of Venezuela."
"How could you possibly know that?" General Naylor demanded.
"I'd show you the satellite imagery, sir, but if I did, you'd know where I got them."
"I don't think I'd have to look very far, would I, General McNab?" Naylor asked unpleasantly.
Castillo said, "You have my word that I did not get them from General McNab. And, sir, with respect, your parole does not give you the right to question me, or anyone else. Please keep that in mind."
He let that sink in, and then went on: "Now, for Facts Bearing on the Problem, Scene Two. The Russian rezident in Washington, Sergei Murov, had Frank Lammelle-speaking of whom, Vic: Should we have someone take a look at him?"
"He has two of your Spetsnaz watching him, Charley. I think they'll be able to tell if the SOB croaks."
Castillo nodded, then went on: "The Russians had Lammelle over to their dacha on Maryland's Eastern Shore, where Murov, the rezident, admitted they sent the Congo-X to Colonel Hamilton, and then offered to turn over all Congo-X in their control and give us their assurance that no more will ever turn up. All they want in return is Dmitri, Sweaty, and me.
"The President thinks the price is fair. He sent General Naylor to arrest me, and Frank Lammelle to arrest Sweaty and Dmitri…"
"Is that true, General Naylor?" Danton asked.
"Any conversations I may or may not have had with the President, Mr. Danton," Naylor said, "are both privileged and classified."
"It's true," General McNab said.
"How do you know?" Danton asked.
"Because that's what General Naylor told me," McNab said. "Under the Code of Honor, people-especially general officers-don't tell fibs to each other. They may try to make human sacrifices of fellow officers, but telling fibs is a no-no. Telling a fib will get you kicked right off that Long Gray Line."
"Colonel Brewer, please be prepared to report that exchange in detail," Naylor said.
"Jesus Christ, Allan!" McNab said. Then, "Sorry, Sweaty, that just slipped out."
"The question is moot," Castillo said. "Colonel Berezovsky and Lieutenant Colonel Alekseeva are not going to be involuntarily repatriated. And I ain't goin' nowhere I don't want to go, neither."
"So what are you going to do, Charley?" Allan Junior asked.
"It took me a lot longer than it should have for me to figure this out, Allan, but what I'm going to do is something they told me on that fabled plain overlooking the Hudson when I was eighteen. When, if I made it through Hudson High and became an officer, my first duty would be to take care of my people.
"I forgot that over the years. The truth of the matter was that falling off the face of the earth didn't bother me much. There I was, with Sweaty, on the finest trout-fishing river in the world. The President of the United States had relieved me of my responsibilities.
"Then Dmitri and Sweaty's cousin, Colonel V. N. Solomatin, who runs the Second Directorate of the SVR with Putin looking over his shoulder, wrote a letter to Dmitri and Sweaty, telling them to come home, all is forgiven.
"Since he didn't know where they were, he had the rezident in Budapest give the letter to a friend of mine there who he thought knew how to get in touch with me. He was right. Several hours later, Sweaty and I were reading it in Patagonia.
"What was significant about the letter was not that Putin thought anybody would believe that all was forgiven, but that he wasn't going to stop until Sweaty and Dmitri paid for their sins. That letter was intended to give Clendennen an out: He wasn't forcing Sweaty and Dmitri to go back to Russia. 'Knowing that all was forgiven-here's th
e letter to prove that-they went back willingly.'
"Then the Congo-X appeared in Fort Detrick. Just about as soon as that happened, some people who knew the OOA-"
"The what?" Roscoe Danton interrupted.
"The Office of Organizational Analysis, the President's-"
"Okay. Now I'm with you," Danton said.
"Okay. Some people-"
"What people?" Danton interrupted again.
"I'm not going to tell you that now; I may never tell you. I haven't figured out what to do about them yet."
"Let me deal with the bastards, Charley," Aloysius said.
"I'd love to, Aloysius, but I want to be invisible when this is all over, and that would be hard to do if all those people suddenly committed suicide by jumping off the roller coaster on top of that tower in Las Vegas. People would wonder why they did that."
Casey chuckled.
"That's not exactly what I had in mind, but close," he said.
"You realize, Colonel," Danton said, "that all you're doing is whetting my appetite. Presuming that I come out of this alive, I'm going to find out who these people are. So, why don't you tell me now?"
Castillo considered that.
"Tell him, Carlos," Sweaty said.
"You think that's smart?"
"I think you have to tell Mr. Danton everything," she said. "Or eliminate him. He either trusts you-us-completely, or he's too dangerous to us to stay alive…"
"Was that a threat?" Danton challenged, and thought: No, it was a statement of fact. And the frightening thing about that is I think he's going to listen to her.
Sweaty ignored him. She went on: "… and now is when you have to make that decision."
Danton thought: I realize this is overdramatic, but the cold truth is that if these people think I'm a danger to them, they're entirely capable of taking me out in the desert, shooting me, and leaving me for the buzzards.
Why the fuck did I ever agree to come here?
"Dmitri?" Castillo asked.
"I think she's right again," Berezovsky said, after a moment's consideration of the question.
"My consiglieri having spoken, Mr. Danton…" Castillo said, and paused.
Roscoe Danton wondered: Consiglieri?
Where the hell did he get that? From The Godfather?
Castillo met Danton's eyes, then went on: "There is a group of men in Las Vegas who have both enormous wealth and influence, the latter reaching all over, and, in at least two cases I'm sure of, into the Oval Office. Not to the President, but to several members of his cabinet. They're all patriots, and they use their wealth and influence from time to time to fund intelligence activities for which funds are not available.
"When those people learned that OOA had been disbanded, they thought they could hire it as sort of a mercenary Special Operations organization."
"Those people have names?" Danton asked.
"Giving them to you would be a breach of trust," Castillo said. "We never agreed to this proposal when it was made, but neither, apparently, did we say 'Hell, no' with sufficient emphasis.
"It was from those people that we first learned of the Congo-X at Fort Detrick. They got in touch and wanted us to look into it. I was going to do that anyway, as it obviously was likely to have something to do with Dmitri and Sweaty as well as the threat it posed to the country.
"I made the mistake of taking two hundred thousand dollars in expense money, following my rule of whenever possible you should spend other people's money rather than your own, and this, I am afraid, allowed them to think the mercenaries were on their payroll."
"What was wrong with that?" Danton asked.
"Well, for one thing, we're not for hire. But what happened, I have come to believe, is that when they learned that President Clendennen had decided to swap Dmitri, Sweaty, and me in exchange for the Congo-X that the Russians have, they decided that made sense, and that since I was a mercenary, I was expendable."
"They told you this?" Danton asked.
"No. But I'm not taking any of their calls," Castillo said. "Or letting them know where I am."
"They think Charley's on a riverboat between Budapest and Vienna," Aloysius said. "And that I'm in Tokyo."
"I don't understand that," Danton said.
"You're not supposed to," Sweaty said. "Go on, Carlitos."
"What are you going to do?" Danton said.
"Well, there is some good news. We've learned how to kill Congo-X," Castillo said. "Right now, nobody knows that but us-"
"You know something that important and you're not going to tell the President?" General Naylor blurted.
"If we told him, sir, there are several probabilities I'm not willing to accept. One would be that he would want to know how we came to know this before he did; that would place Colonel Hamilton in an awkward position."
"Goddamn it, Charley!" Naylor exploded. "Hamilton is a serving officer. He is duty-bound."
"Sir, with respect. You are violating your parole. I have told you that you are not permitted to question me. But I'll answer that. Inasmuch as Colonel Hamilton marches beside us in the Long Gray Line, I'm sure he considered the Code of Honor before deciding that to keep this information to ourselves for the time being was necessary. He realized that if President Clendennen knew that we can now neutralize Congo-X, the Russians would learn that in short order. Right now, we don't want to give them that."
There was silence for a moment.
Then Danton asked, "So, what are you going to do, Colonel?"
"Depending on how much Congo-X the Russians have, that reduces the threat to the United States just about completely, or doesn't reduce it much at all," Castillo went on.
"The odds are that the Congo-X that General Sirinov flew out of Africa is all of it. Dmitri says that the Russians knew how awful this stuff is. Burned once, no pun intended, by Chernobyl, they didn't want to run the risk of having any of this stuff inside Russia.
"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 cross
ed 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."
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