The automatic door closer shut off any reply Lammelle might have made.
The door opened thirty seconds later, and Colonel Jack Brewer put his head in.
"General, Mr. Lammelle is here."
"Ask him to come in, please," Naylor said.
"And Major Naylor and a man from Global Communications, who says he has an appointment."
"Ask them to wait, but you come in, please, Colonel."
Naylor got up from behind his desk and met Lammelle as he came through the door.
"Good morning, General," Lammelle said. "Can I ask what Scotty McNab was doing here? Is he going to be working with us, I hope, on this?"
"Actually, Mr. Lammelle, I've just about decided I made a terrible mistake vis-a-vis General McNab."
"Excuse me?"
"What I am now convinced I should have done was place him under arrest."
"Excuse me?"
"Let me tell you what just happened, and then you tell me what you think I should have done-should do-about it." Five minutes later, Frank Lammelle said, "General, I'm in no position to comment upon, much less judge, your differences with General McNab vis-a-vis insubordination, that sort of thing, but-and you may not like hearing this-it looks to me that instead of being a problem, McNab may be the answer to ours."
"I don't see that," Naylor said.
"Our problem is that we have been charged with locating Colonel Castillo, and through him, to take control of the two Russians. And we don't know where any of them are."
"A subparagraph of 'facts bearing on the problem' there, it seems to me," Naylor said, "would be 'how to transport the Russian defectors and/or Castillo from where we find them to where they have to go.' Or words to that effect. And where do they go, to add that factor?"
"Castillo," Lammelle replied, "is going to have to be transported to either Washington, or, perhaps, some military base in the United States. The Russians only have to be transported someplace where they can be turned over to the SVR. I think that will probably mean that we'll have to transport them to some place served by Aeroflot. We turn them over at the airport to officers of the SVR, who will then repatriate them."
Naylor glanced at Colonel Jack Brewer, then looked at Lammelle, and said, "And how are we going to do that? Am I supposed to take soldiers with me? Soldiers for that sort of thing come from Special Operations, the Delta Force, or Gray Fox. Which of course are commanded by General McNab."
"General, since eight o'clock this morning, a Gulfstream V has been sitting at Saint Petersburg-Clearwater International. It is registered to a CIA asset-a chicken-packing company in Des Moines, Iowa. I was amazed to learn how much chicken the United States exports.
"Anyway, the plane will attract no undue attention. The crew are CIA. The aircraft is equipped with the very latest-and I mean the very latest-avionics that the AFC Corporation has for sale. All sorts of bells and whistles. Communication with that airplane and Langley is available wherever that airplane is-on the ground or in the air, anywhere in the world. That airplane is going to follow you and me no matter where General McNab leads us. There are four Clandestine Service officers aboard. Once we lay eyes on Colonel Castillo and the Russians, transporting them wherever they have to go will pose no problems at all."
"What if they resist?" Colonel Brewer asked.
"The officers are equipped with the very latest nonlethal weaponry-and the other kind as well, of course. What the nonlethal weaponry provides, in a pistol about the size of a Glock, are six darts with a range of about fifty feet. Anyone struck with one of these darts will lose consciousness in fifteen seconds or less. They will regain consciousness without intervention in about two hours. They can be brought back immediately by injection."
"Fascinating," General Naylor said. "Then, if I understand you, Mr. Lammelle, it is your recommendation that we sit tight and do nothing while we wait for General McNab to find Castillo and the Russians?"
"That is my recommendation, General."
Naylor looked at his aide-de-camp, and said, "You see anything wrong with that, Jack?"
Colonel Jack Brewer said, "No, sir. It makes a lot of sense to me."
"And what about the man McNab left here?" Naylor asked.
"He's very good," Lammelle said. "I've known Vic D'Allessando for a long time. He's been around Delta Force and Gray Fox for years."
"Which tends to suggest that his greatest loyalty may be to General McNab," General Naylor said.
"Well, I suggest we treat him with respect and as a member of the team," Lammelle said. He stopped and opened his briefcase. "And if he shows any suggestion of being about to interfere with our mission, General…" He paused and took from the briefcase what looked like a Glock semiautomatic pistol with a grossly swollen slide. He aimed it at a leather couch and pulled the trigger. There was an almost inaudible psssst sound. "… in fifteen seconds or less, General, your couch will be sound asleep."
"I will be damned," Naylor said, and went to the couch, found the dart, and pulled it free. He held it up for a better look, and then held it against his pinkie finger. It was about as long, and perhaps half as thick.
"Amazing," General Naylor said, then looked at Brewer. "Can you think of anything else, Jack?"
"Yes, sir," Brewer said. "Lieutenant Colonel (Designate) Naylor."
"What about him?" Lammelle asked.
Naylor told him.
"Just to be sure, General," Lammelle then said, "I suggest you maintain the current close personal supervision. I'm frankly uncomfortable, taking into consideration what you've told me, with the thought of leaving him here when we go off wherever we're going. There's no telling…"
"I agree. Where we go, Allan Junior goes," General Naylor said.
"May I see that dart, General?" Colonel Brewer asked.
Naylor handed it to him. [ONE] The President's Study The White House 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, N.W. Washington, D.C. 0929 9 February 2007 Assistant Secretary of Homeland Security Mason Andrews was more than a little nervous when he entered the President's study with Frederick P. Palmer, the United States attorney general.
He was fully aware that he was the assistant secretary of Homeland Security and that the secretary should be dealing with the President on this matter. Andrews had the previous evening telephoned the secretary, who was in Chicago, brought her up to speed, and asked her for direction. She had agreed with him that it was a very delicate area, and that proceeding carefully was obviously necessary. She said she'd like to sleep on the problem, and that he should call her back in the morning, say at about nine, before his nine-thirty appointment with the President.
When he had done so, he had been informed that the secretary was not available at the moment; something-not specified, but important-had come up and the secretary simply was not available.
Mr. Andrews then had had an unkind thought.
That bitch is covering her fat ass by staying out of the line of fire.
Again.
But, fully aware that one does not make an appointment on an urgent matter with the President of the United States and then break it, he was in the outer office at nine-twenty with the very-reluctant-to-be-there attorney general. It had been necessary to tell the attorney general that if the AG couldn't find time in his schedule for the meeting, he would tell the President just that. "All right, Andrews," President Clendennen greeted them. "Make it quick."
"Mr. Darby has been located, Mr. President," Andrews announced.
"Ambassador Montvale was told to keep me posted. Why am I hearing this from you?"
"Sir, I don't believe Ambassador Montvale knows about this."
"I'm confused. I don't like to be confused. Why don't you start at the goddamn beginning, Andrews? Maybe that way…"
"Yes, Mr. President. Sir, at half past four yesterday, Immigration, in response to the LDND order, notified the Secret Service that Mr. Darby had entered the United States-"
"In response to the what?" the President interrupted.
"The LDND order. That means 'locate, do not detain.'"
"And that means?"
"When the subject of an LDND order is located by any agency, that agency notifies the agency that issued the order-in this case, the Secret Service-where and under what circumstances the subject was located. In this case, as I said, Immigration yesterday afternoon notified the Secret Service that Alexander Darby had arrived in Miami on a flight from Panama."
"Cut to the chase, Andrews. And what did Darby have to say about Castillo and the Russians?"
"Nothing, sir."
"He was arrested, right? He's in custody?"
"No, sir."
"You're telling me the Immigration people had this guy, and then he got away? My God!"
"Sir, there never has been a warrant out on Mr. Darby-just the LDND order."
"What's the point in locating somebody and then not arresting him?"
"Sir, even if there is an arrest warrant," the attorney general explained, "and in this case no warrant has been issued, it's sometimes useful to see where the subject goes, and to whom he talks."
"Well, where did Darby go, and who did he talk to?"
"He flew here, sir, into Reagan National," Andrews said. "By that time, the Secret Service was on him, and they followed him to a residence at 7200 West Boulevard Drive in Alexandria. That site, sir, was already under Secret Service surveillance. It has been since the LDND order was issued. It is owned by Colonel Castillo."
"Don't tell me Castillo has been there, right under the nose of the Secret Service, all the time?"
"No, sir. We don't believe that he is."
"So, when you finally found out where this Darby character is, and who he was talking to, what did he say when you asked him where Castillo and the Russians are?"
"What happened at that point," Andrews began, "was that Supervisory Special Agent McGuire-"
"I know Tom," the President interrupted. "Good man, if it's the same guy. Used to be on the presidential protection detail, right?"
"Yes, sir. That's the man. Sir, McGuire notified me about Darby's location, and first thing this morning, a minute or two after seven, I was at the door-"
"He notified you last night! Why didn't you go over there last night?" the President demanded.
"It was after midnight, Mr. President."
"So what?"
"Perhaps you're right, Mr. President. I deferred to Mr. McGuire's judgment. Now I realize that was probably a mistake, too."
"Okay, so there you were-was McGuire with you…?"
"Yes, sir."
"… at the door of this house at seven in the morning. Then what happened?"
"At first, Mr. President, they wouldn't even let us in. They had a lawyer, a Japanese gentleman, who said his name was Yung-"
"Sir," the attorney general interjected, "I think there is a very good chance that this lawyer is a former FBI special agent named David W. Yung, Jr., who is also under a LDND order. And he's of Chinese, not Japanese, ancestry-"
"Why are we looking for this ex-FBI agent-slash-lawyer of some kind of Oriental ancestry?" the President interrupted. "And what's that got to do with anything?"
"He was one of Castillo's men in OOA, Mr. President," the attorney general said.
"So, what happened at the door?" the President asked.
"We identified ourselves, and asked if we could come in. Yung said not without a search warrant. He also said that if they did let us in, it would constitute a waiver of the owner's rights against unlawful search, and they weren't going to do that."
"It has to be Yung," the attorney general thought aloud. "An FBI agent, lawyer or not, would know about that decision of the Third Circuit Court of Appeals."
"So you didn't get in. Then what?" the President said.
"We got in, sir," Andrews said. "After I promised that I understood we were being admitted only as a compassionate gesture on the part of Mrs. Darby to get us out of the snow and the cold, and that she had not waived any of her rights vis-a-vis unlawful search and seizure. And they filmed us acknowledging that, sir."
"They filmed you?" the President asked incredulously.
"Yes, sir. There was another man there with what looked to me like a professional movie camera."
"And then? Jesus Christ, cut to the goddamned chase!"
"Mr. Darby was in the kitchen, sir," Andrews said.
"And did you ask him if he knew where Colonel Castillo and the two Russians are, and if you did, what did he say?"
"He was evasive, sir. And the lawyer said that if Mr. Darby found himself being interrogated by a federal officer, he would advise him, as his lawyer, not to answer any questions the answers to which might tend to either incriminate him, or cause him to violate the CIA secrecy laws which forbid him to ever disclose anything he learned while he was an officer of the Clandestine Service."
"Mr. President, I'm afraid we're not going to learn much from Mr. Darby," the attorney general said.
"I was beginning to suspect that," the President said, thickly sarcastic.
"There is one thing we can do, Mr. President," Andrews said.
"What's that?"
"We can squeeze Mrs. Darby. When she told McGuire her husband was in Ushuaia with his girlfriend, information on which Ambassador Montvale based his decision to go to Ushuaia, she had invited McGuire into her home. She had waived her rights when she did so. Giving false information to a federal officer is a felony."
The President considered that a long moment.
Then he picked up his telephone and said, "Come in here."
A secretary and a Secret Service agent appeared almost immediately.
"Are we in touch with Ambassador Montvale?"
"Yes, sir," the Secret Service agent said. "He's in Ushuaia, Argentina. There's a communications radio in his Gulfstream III."
"Send the ambassador a message, please," the President said. "'Mr. Darby is in Alexandria, Virginia. You can come home now, repeat, now.'"
"Yes, sir," the secretary said. "Is that all of it, Mr. President?"
"That's all of it. Get that right out, please."
"Yes, Mr. President," the Secret Service agent said.
When they had left, closing the door behind them, the President turned to Mason Andrews.
"You heard that, Andrews?"
"Yes, sir."
"If you think, when the ambassador gets back here, that Wolf News is going to take a picture of him in a courtroom, with his hand on a Bible, swearing before God and the world that he-my director of National Intelligence-went halfway around the world on my orders as commander in chief on the word of a housewife having her little joke at our expense, you're even more incredibly stupid than you showed you were this morning, Andrews.
"Now get the fuck out of the goddamned Oval Office and never come back!" [TWO] 1155 9 February 2007 Word had quickly spread among the inner circle of White House functionaries that President Clendennen's current rage was one that would go down in history. So it was with a certain trepidation that White House Press Secretary John David "Jack" Parker stood at the door of the President's study and waited for permission to enter.
It was almost a minute in coming, but finally President Clendennen signaled with his fingers for Parker to enter.
"And what bad news are you bringing, Porky?" Clendennen asked.
"I'm afraid it's not good news, Mr. President."
"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Clendennen asked rhetorically. "Are you aware of what happened in here this morning?"
"No, sir. I understand the attorney general and Assistant Secretary Andrews asked for an appointment, but-"
"You know where Ambassador Montvale is?"
"In Argentina."
"The stupid sonofabitch! Director of National Intelligence, my ass. His title should be Director of National Stupidity. He'd damned well better be on his way back here."
"I'm afraid, Mr. President, that I don't understand."
The President related what had transpired earlier in his
office, ending his narration with a question: "How would you describe, Porky, Ambassador Stupid standing up in court, with Wolf News filming him, and swearing on a Bible that he went to some goddamn place I can't pronounce in Argentina on my orders looking for a man who was just across the Potomac in Alexandria?"
Parker took a deep breath before replying.
"Sir, I would describe that as a public relations disaster."
"You're goddamn right it would be. But what could be worse than that?"
"Excuse me, sir?"
"How about some press sonofabitch-C. Harry Whelan, Jr., for example-asking Ambassador Stupid why he was looking for this Darby guy in the first place. That would be worse, Porky. And Ambassador Stupid would be stupid enough to tell him."
"Speaking of Mr. Whelan, sir…"
"Dare I hope he's been run over by a truck?"
"Mr. Whelan came to see me just now, sir."
"Close your mouth and put your hand on your wallet, Porky. I'm afraid to ask why."
"Sir, Mr. Whelan said he was about to publish this, and wanted to give us a chance to correct any errors he might have made before he did."
Parker handed the President a sheet of paper.
Clendennen snatched it, and read:
BY C. HARRY WHELAN, JR.
COPYRIGHT 2007
WORLDWIDE RIGHTS RESERVED
SLUG: WHITE HOUSE LAUNCHED STRIKE ON IRANIAN BIOLOGICAL WARFARE FACTORY IN CONGO BASED ON INFORMATION FROM RUSSIAN DEFECTORS IN HANDS OF SECRET, POSSIBLY ILLEGAL, "PRIVATE CIA" CONTROLLED BY PRESIDENT WASHINGTON-(INSERT DATE) THIS REPORTER HAS LEARNED THAT THE STRIKE ON THE ALLEGED IRANIAN BIOLOGICAL WARFARE LABORATORY IN THE CONGO WAS BASED SOLELY ON INFORMATION GATHERED BY A SUPER-SECRET INTELLIGENCE AGENCY REPORTING DIRECTLY TO THE PRESIDENT. THE ORGANIZATION, HIDDEN INSIDE THE DEPARTMENT OF HOMELAND SECURITY AND CALLED THE OFFICE OF ORGANIZATIONAL ANALYSIS, WAS HEADED BY A LEGENDARY ARMY SPECIAL FORCES OFFICER, LIEUTENANT COLONEL C. G. CASTILLO, AND STAFFED WITH PERSONNEL, SOME DESCRIBED BY INTELLIGENCE INSIDERS AS "UNSAVORY," FROM THE CIA, THE FBI, AND THE ARMED FORCES. THE ORGANIZATION APPARENTLY OPERATED WITHOUT CONGRESSIONAL OVERSIGHT, DID NOT ANSWER TO THE DIRECTOR OF NATIONAL INTELLIGENCE, NOR MAINTAIN LIAISON WITH OTHER INTELLIGENCE AGENCIES, AND WAS APPARENTLY FUNDED BY THE PRESIDENT'S "CONFIDENTIAL FUNDS." WHEN IT APPEARED TO THE OOA THAT THE CIA WAS ABOUT TO BUNGLE THEIR ATTEMPT TO CAUSE THE DEFECTION OF TWO VERY SENIOR RUSSIAN SVR OFFICERS IN AUSTRIA, THE OOA SNATCHED THE RUSSIANS FROM THE CIA IN VIENNA AND TOOK THEM TO AN UNDISCLOSED LOCATION OUTSIDE THE UNITED STATES.
The outlaws pa-6 Page 38
