Black Ops (Presidential Agent)

by W. E. B Griffin

  "No apology required, sir."

  "How much truth is there to the tale Montvale tells that you--for reasons he can't imagine--snatched two Russian defectors from the CIA station chief in Vienna and flew them to Argentina?"

  "They were never in the hands of the CIA, sir."

  "But you did fly them from Vienna to Argentina?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Off the top of my head, Charley, that sounds as stupid as . . . well, for example, as borrowing a Black Hawk. Why the hell did you do that?"

  "You mean borrowing the Black Hawk? Or flying the Russians here?" Castillo asked innocently.

  "You know goddamn well what I mean, Charley," McNab said. But he chuckled.

  "Sir, at the time I thought it--both things--was the thing to do."

  "And now that you've had time to reflect?"

  "Now I know, sir, that I did the right thing. Both times."

  "Why?" McNab asked simply. "Skip the part about Dick Miller and his people still being among the living."

  "Sir, I had good reason to believe the SVR was onto them, and unless I got them off the train and out of the Westbahnhof in Vienna, they'd be grabbed."

  There was another long pause before McNab went on: "That raises the questions 'What train?' 'What were you doing on the train?' and 'How did you get together with the Russians in the first place, since getting the bastards to turn is none of your goddamn business?' But I will not ask them, because that is what is known as water under the dam. Pick it up where you got them out of the Westbahnhof and to Gaucho Land instead of turning them over to the agency in Vienna."

  "Sir, the Russians suspected that the CIA station chief also knew the SVR was onto them and was going to let them hang in the breeze. I think they were right."

  "Montvale's version is that you rode into town like Jesse James and blew up the carefully laid plans of the CIA to arrange their defection."

  "Yes, sir. I'm aware of his story."

  "You don't sound very repentant about all this, Charley. Even though it's going to end your colorful military career on something of a sour note."

  "Sir, what I got from the Russians is worth more than my career."

  "Their heartfelt gratitude for helping them dodge the SVR?"

  "Sir, they've put me onto an operation in the ex-Belgian Congo--run by Iranians with other raghead cooperation and funded by oil-for-food money--that's going after our water supplies."

  "And you don't think the agency, as incompetent as we both know it sometimes can be, doesn't know the bad guys would love to poison our water supply? And if they're seriously working on an operation would know just a little bit about it?"

  "As of a couple of hours ago, the agency believes--sir, this is just about verbatim--that, quote, there is no discernible activity there of interest to the United States. They are apparently experimenting with fish farms, unquote."

  "How the hell could you possibly know that?"

  "I heard the DCI tell Montvale that. We were in the embassy in Buenos Aires, and Montvale called him."

  "And you think the agency is wrong?"

  "Yes, sir. I believe they are."

  "One of the defectors told you that?"

  "Both of them did, sir."

  "And you believe them?" McNab asked incredulously. "Two whys, Charley: Why would they tell you, and why do you believe them?"

  "I can give you a long answer, sir, or--"

  "Short one first."

  "They happen to be Christians who take it seriously and don't want several million innocent people poisoned."

  "Jesus Christ! And you believe that?"

  "I do, and so does Edgar Delchamps."

  "The guy who stuck a needle in the traitor's neck in the Langley parking lot?"

  "That has been alleged, sir. He and Alex Darby, the station chief here, both believe what the Russians have told us."

  "Correct me if I'm wrong, but what I'm hearing here is that a brand-new lieutenant colonel with a well-deserved reputation for being a world-class loose cannon, an agency dinosaur who takes out people he doesn't like in the CIA's parking lot, and another agency type who got himself banished to Gaucho Land because he still thinks the Russians are a threat all have decided, based upon what a couple of Russian defectors--who the Russians say took off because they stole three million dollars, not because they're born-again Christians--told them that there is a bona fide terrorist threat that the agency, having looked into it, says is nonsense. Does that sum it up fairly accurately, Colonel Castillo?"

  "Yes, sir. That's about it."

  "And what do these three lunatics plan to do about it?"

  "This lunatic, sir, is going to go over there and find out for himself what's going on."

  "And then?"

  "Either take it out myself or lay proof on the President's desk of what's going on."

  "All by yourself, John Wayne?" McNab asked, bitterly sarcastic.

  There was a moment's pause before Castillo responded.

  "Well, sir, now that you've brought it up, I was hoping I could borrow Uncle Remus for a couple of weeks. He has the right complexion and he speaks Swahili."

  "If you are referring, Colonel Castillo, to Chief Warrant Officer Five Colin Leverette of this command, he not only speaks Swahili, but Lingala and Tshiluba as well. And not only is Mr. Leverette far too valuable to be put at risk in a dangerous--not to mention unsanctioned--operation such as you propose, but he is far too wise and experienced to even momentarily consider volunteering for anything like it."

  "Yes, sir."

  There was a very long pause.

  "Lieutenant generals, as you should know, Lieutenant Colonel Castillo, do not bargain with lieutenant colonels."

  "Yes, sir."

  "But if I should suddenly lose my mind and discuss this situation with Mr. Leverette and he similarly suffers a temporary loss of his good judgment and agrees to talk with you about it, it will be with the understanding that if I do not approve--personally, here in the States--every detail of your proposed operation to snoop around this chemical factory in the Congolese jungle, you will not undertake it. Agreed?"

  "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

  "When and where do you want Uncle Remus, Charley?"

  "Here, as soon as possible, sir."

  "I can't get him on a plane today."

  "Sir, Major Miller will probably be coming down here in a Presidential Gulfstream. It could stop at Bragg . . ."

  "And you don't think Montvale will hear about that?"

  "Montvale knows about it, sir. I made a deal with him, too."

  There was a pause.

  "What kind of a deal, Charley?"

  "No matter what happens in Africa, sir, I will retire at the end of this month."

  "Even if you're right and everybody else is wrong?"

  "Yes, sir. That was the deal I made."

  There was another long pause.

  "I'll get back to you--or Vic D'Allessando will--with the details of Mr. Leverette's travel," McNab said finally. "And now I'm going to have a word with General Naylor."

  "I wish you wouldn't do that, sir."

  "Why not?"

  "General Naylor decided that he was doing the right thing when Montvale went to him with this. I'm sure it wasn't easy for him. He saw it as his duty."

  Another long pause.

  "That's the problem a good officer has to face every once in a while, isn't it, Charley? Knowing just what doing your duty really calls for?"

  Castillo didn't reply, and a moment later one of the green LEDs went dark, signaling the call had been broken.

  Castillo shook his head, then looked around at the others.

  "Who was that, my Charley?" Svetlana asked.

  "The man who heads our version of Spetsnaz," Castillo said softly. "Lieutenant General Bruce J. McNab. Who just decided to help me deal with the chemical factory, even though he's fully aware that may very likely see him standing beside me in the Thank You for Your Service and Don't Let the Door-knob Hi
t You in the Ass on Your Way Out retirement parade."

  "I do not understand," she said.

  "I'm getting kicked out of the Army," Castillo said, and stopped. "Correction: For what I like to think is 'for the good of the service,' I will go along with being medically retired as psychologically unfit for active service."

  She looked at him thoughtfully but didn't say anything.

  "Not to worry, Svetlana. I will receive a pension of twenty-five percent of my base pay. You may have to flip burgers in McDonald's to help out with our bills, but we can probably get by."

  She ignored the comment.

  "You work for this man? You are American Spetsnaz?"

  "Not anymore. I used to be. I used to work for General McNab."

  "And now who do you work for? This Ambassador Montvale?"

  "You and your brother were right to be worried about the CIA station chief in Vienna," Castillo said, ignoring the question. "She probably would have left you swinging in the breeze, since she probably knew the SVR was onto you. What happened is that when she figured out that I had gotten you out of Vienna safely, instead of saying 'thank you' or keeping her mouth shut, which also would have been nice, she told the director of Central Intelligence--and also told a friend of hers who she knew would promptly tell an important journalist--that I had swooped in out of nowhere and snatched you and the colonel and family away just as she was about to put you in the bag and send you to Washington."

  "So you are in trouble because of what you did for us? I will kill this woman!"

  "Hold that thought, Svetlana," Delchamps said.

  Castillo looked between them and thought: The truth is both of them are more than likely dead serious.

  "Both of you drop that thought," Castillo said.

  "And this Ambassador Montvale, who you do work for, believed this woman?" Svetlana asked.

  "I don't work for Montvale. But yeah, sure, he believed her. Right now his priority, which is one I agree with, is to protect the man I work for."

  "Who is? And this man you work for will believe this bitch in Vienna?"

  "Two profound thoughts, Ace," Delchamps said. " 'Hell hath no fury like a woman protecting her man.' "

  Davidson and Castillo chuckled.

  "You said two," Castillo said.

  " 'The cow is already out of the barn,' " Delchamps said. "If you won't tell her, Ace, I will. Svetlana, Charley works for the President."

  If she was surprised by this announcement, it didn't show on her face.

  "And your President will take the word of the bitch in Vienna over yours?"

  "That's not the point," Castillo explained. "But no, I think he'd accept whatever I told him as the truth. The point is that he'd be deeply hurt politically if it came out that--"

  "That he has been running his own private CIA-FBI-American Spetsnaz rolled into one," Delchamps interrupted, "in contravention of American law and--maybe even worse--without taking the Congress into his confidence. He would be crucified, unless they could think of something more painful."

  Svetlana looked at Castillo, who nodded to confirm what Delchamps had said.

  Castillo said: "So far, the President doesn't know anything about this?"

  "Wrong, I think," Delchamps interrupted again. "I think the DCI probably got carried away and told the President that--to use Svetlana's delightful terminology--the bitch in Vienna was about to put--after long, brilliant, and expensive CIA labor--Svetlana and her brother into the bag. He probably thinks they're in a safe house in Maryland right now."

  Castillo didn't reply.

  "He came down here to get them, Ace. I rest my case."

  "Could very well be," Castillo admitted.

  "This man, the ambassador, came down here to get us and take us to the United States?" Svetlana asked.

  Castillo nodded. "That was one of the things on his agenda. Understandable."

  "What did you say to him?"

  "I told him that two hundred dollars, a bottle of scotch, and a mule wasn't even in the ballpark pricewise, but if he wanted to reconsider and up his offer, I'd listen."

  It was obvious on Svetlana's face that Castillo's remark made no sense to her.

  Davidson took pity on her.

  "Svet," he said in Russian, "I don't know how to translate this into Russian, but the essence of Charley's reply to Montvale's suggestion that he turn you over to the agency was that the ambassador"--he switched to English--"should try a flying fuck at a rolling doughnut."

  After a long moment, Svetlana said seriously: "I think I understand. But what is a 'doughnut'?"

  "Think of a Berliner," Delchamps said, "but round. And with a thumb-sized hole in the middle." He held up his thumb, then mimed rolling the pastry across the floor.

  She smiled as the mental picture formed.

  "My Charley, you are very naughty. But I love you anyway!"

  She demonstrated this by leaning over and kissing him.

  "Edgar," Davidson asked, "do you think there's any chance that when Romeo and Juliet are finished we can get that drink we were promised when we got here?"

  [FOUR]

  "Oh, Charley, look! Isn't that sweet?" Svetlana exclaimed as they walked into a basement room of the house.

  Marina was across the room, tugging as hard as she could on a woven twine rope, the other end of which was in her father's mouth.

  Castillo took a quick double-take around the room. It held a rack of golf club bags. Next to that was a rack of cues for the billiards table that was in the center of the room. One side of the room was given over to a bar, at which stood Cedric Lee-Watson and ex-Polkovnik Dmitri Berezovsky of the SVR. They had drinks in their hands. Lora and Sof'ya Berezovsky were sitting on bar stools, drinking what looked like Coca-Cola.

  Castillo snapped his head to look at Svetlana.

  "Oh, I didn't tell you, did I, my Charley? We're going to have dinner with my brother Tom and his family at the Club House," Svetlana said as she crossed to the bar to kiss first Sof'ya and then her sister-in-law.

  Castillo looked at her and then at Munz.

  Munz smiled knowingly, which pushed Castillo even closer to losing his temper.

  "Is this smart, for Christ's sake?" Castillo snapped.

  "Sooner or later, Karl," Munz said in German, "Mr. Barlow and his family, including of course Susanna, are going to have to start living their new identities. Why wait? For what?"

  Castillo didn't reply.

  "And you did notice, didn't you, the security measures around here?" Munz went on.

  "I did," Edgar Delchamps said. "This place is tighter than a drum."

  He saw the look on Castillo's face and went on: "Smile, Ace, you've been had," and then he walked to the bar, with Davidson on his heels.

  "I thought I'd find you near the liquor, Tom, old buddy," he said in Russian.

  "My Russian is not so good," Berezovsky/Barlow said in English. "Would you mind if we speak English?"

  "Not at all."

  Castillo walked to the bar.

  Tom Barlow set his drink on it and took two steps toward Castillo. He grabbed Castillo's upper arms.

  "I can call you Charley, right?" he asked in accentless American English.

  "Why not?"

  "One of the reasons I accepted my sister's kind invitation to break bread with you tonight was that I'd hoped to have a private word with you about her."

  "Really?"

  "She's my little sister, Charley. You understand. I wanted to make sure I understood your intentions."

  The Russian words for Go fuck yourself, Dmitri leapt to Castillo's lips.

  At the last possible split instant, he bit them off.

  "But when I saw how you looked at each other when you walked in, I realized that wouldn't be necessary."

  "Good," Castillo said in English.

  Barlow looked intently into Castillo's eyes, reminding Castillo of the first time Aleksandr Pevsner had done that to him.

  "So I think we should both be very gra
teful to God that things in Marburg turned out the way they have, don't you?" Barlow said. "They could--so easily--have gone differently."

  Castillo neither replied nor blinked.

  But finally Barlow let go of his arms, and Castillo looked away.

  Svetlana was squatting beside Max and Marina.

  "Hey, Susie," he called. "Do want something to drink?"

  She looked at him and smiled uncertainly. "Susie" hadn't registered.

  "That's you, baby. 'Susie.' You'd better get used to it."

  She got up and walked to him. He put his arm around her shoulder.

  XII

  [ONE]

  Pilar Golf & Polo Country Club

  Pilar, Buenos Aires Province, Argentina

  1910 2 January 2006

  "Then it is agreed, is it not," Tom Barlow said, "that tonight what we have is friends having dinner together, and we do not talk--or even think about--the business we will deal with tomorrow?"

  I didn't hear any proposal to agree to, Castillo thought, but what the hell, why not?

  "Fine with me," he said.

  "You know a little about our family, Charley, but Susanna tells me she knows nothing of yours," Barlow said.

  "There are nine of us," Castillo said. "There were ten, but my brother Fritz was hung a couple of years ago for cattle rustling in the Texas Panhandle."

  Barlow shook his head.

  "Aleksandr told me you have an . . . interesting sense of humor," Barlow said.

  "If it's all right with you, Charley," Alfredo Munz said, "I'll pass on dinner. My wife has the odd notion that I should have dinner with her and the girls once in a while."

  The translation of that is: Will I feel safe to be left here alone?

  "Go ahead, Alfredo. The Marine is here and the situation is well in hand."

  Davidson and Lester understood and both smiled. Lester looked pleased at what he took as at least some small recognition of his self-appointed role as Castillo's bodyguard.

  Davidson also saw the look on Svetlana/Susanna's face.

  "Susie . . ." he said.

  "Susanna," she corrected him.

  "We already have a Susanna. How about simply Susan?"

  She looked at Castillo.

  "Hello, there, Simply Susan," Castillo said, smiling.

  "I was about to say there's something you don't know about Charley," Davidson said.