W. Griffin - Covert Warriors

1625 18 April 2007

“Warden Leon.”

“This is Stanley Crenshaw, Warden Leon. I’m glad I caught you.”

“You just barely did, Mr. Attorney General. I was about to call it a day.”

“Warden, have you been talking to Roscoe Danton?”

“To who, Mr. Attorney General?”

“Roscoe Danton. Roscoe J. Danton. The Washington Times-Post reporter. The one who’s always on Wolf News.”

“Oh, yeah. I know who he is.”

“You have been talking to him?”

“No, sir, Mr. Attorney General. I was trying to say I know who he is. Has he been trying to talk to me? I’ve been in the office all afternoon. Is something wrong?”

“What do you know about the transfer of Felix Abrego from Florence ADMAX to the La Tuna facility in Texas?”

“Oh. Now I understand. So there was a mix-up.”

“Excuse me?”

“When that transfer order came in, I thought there was something not quite kosher, transferring someone like Abrego from here to a country club like La Tuna, so I called Director Waters and asked him. He assured me that everything was hunky-dory, that you had personally authorized the transfer, so I told my assistant warden to turn the prisoner over to the U.S. Marshals you sent out here.”

“And when will this prisoner actually be transferred, Warden Leon?”

“He’s on his way to the La Tuna facility as we speak, Mr. Attorney General.”

“Warden Leon, if Mr. Danton or any other journalist calls you out there, don’t be available. Refer them to me. You understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t answer any questions. Don’t say anything at all.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Attorney General.”

1635 18 April 2007

The attorney general began his conversation with the director of Central Intelligence with no preliminaries whatsoever.

“Frank, Roscoe J. Danton just called me, and after I was very nice to him-damn near groveled at his feet-he gave me until five minutes to nine to explain why Felix Abrego is being transferred from Florence ADMAX to that country club prison in Texas. Otherwise, at nine tonight he goes on Wolf News-on Andy McClarren’s Straight Scoop -with what he’s got.”

“I wonder how he found out,” the DCI mused.

The attorney general of course had already given that question a good deal of thought. After talking with Warden Leon, he had decided it wasn’t Leon.

Then who?

His suspicions finally settled on the U.S. Marshals he had sent to Florence ADMAX. For one thing, since they were transferring Abrego, they knew about it. For another-the U.S. Marshal Service was the oldest federal law enforcement agency; it had been founded in 1789 and its members had an unfortunate tendency to regard themselves as the Knights Templar of federal law enforcement-they often tattled to the attorney general on what they thought of as less than pure activities of other agencies. Since they couldn’t tattle on the man himself who had ordered Abrego’s very questionable transfer-the attorney general-they had gone to Roscoe J. Danton.

Who would certainly recognize a damn good story when one was dumped in his lap.

“I have no idea,” Stanley Crenshaw said. “All I know is that he knows, and is about to go on Wolf News and tell the world. What do I do?”

“I just had a thought,” Frank Lammelle said. “I’m not supposed to know that Abrego is going to be swapped for Ferris. The President told you and Natalie Cohen, and maybe Schmidt, but I guess he doesn’t think I have the need to know. That raises the question ‘Did he tell Montvale or Truman Ellsworth?’ Keep that it mind when you’re talking to him.”

“Okay, so I’m telling you now. And now that you know, what should I do?”

“Are you sure you want to tell me, Stanley? Clendennen’s liable to consider that a breach of trust.”

The attorney general considered that for a moment.

“Okay, I didn’t tell you. Who did tell you?”

“If I answered that, that would be a breach of trust.”

“Shit,” the attorney general said, and broke the connection.

1645 18 April 2007

“The President’s line, Agent Mulligan.”

“This is Stanley Crenshaw, Mulligan. Is the President available?”

“Does the President expect your call, Mr. Crenshaw?”

“Please tell the President I have to speak to him.”

“I’ll see if he’s free.”

A moment later, there was another voice on the line.

“This is Clemens McCarthy, Mr. Crenshaw. The President is not available at the moment. He asked me to take a message, and he’ll try to get back to you.”

I’m the attorney general of the United States. When I call the President, I want to speak to him, not his goddamn press agent.

“Actually, McCarthy, we might not have to bother President Clendennen with this. This is really in your area of responsibility.”

“What would that be, Mr. Crenshaw?”

“Roscoe J. Danton called me just now and gave me until five minutes of nine to tell him why Felix Abrego is being transferred from Florence ADMAX to the La Tuna facility near El Paso. Otherwise he says he’s going on The Straight Scoop with Andy McClarren at nine with what he’s got.”

“And what does he think he has?”

“That the convicted murderer of three DEA agents is being transferred to a minimum-security institution.”

“How does he know that?”

“I have no idea. I’m just telling you what I know, and asking what I should do about Mr. Danton.”

“Just a moment, please.”

Twenty seconds later, the President of the United States barked: “What the hell is going on, Crenshaw?”

The attorney general told him.

“I want to know who told that sonofabitch Danton about the transfer!”

“I have no idea, Mr. President.”

“Well, some disloyal sonofabitch obviously did, and I want to know who.”

“Mr. President, I have no idea.”

“Goddamn it, you should! You’re the attorney general; you’re in charge of the FBI. I don’t care what you or Mark Schmidt have to do, just find out what disloyal sonofabitch did this to me.”

“Yes, sir. And what would you like me to say to Mr. Danton, Mr. President?”

The President considered the question for a long moment. “I’m going to let McCarthy handle that,” he said finally. “But you and Schmidt get your asses over here right now. McCarthy might need you.”

The President hung up.

1650 18 April 2007

“Good afternoon, Madam Secretary,” the DCI said. “And how were things in sunny Meh-hee-co?”

“Why does your ebullience worry me, Frank?” Natalie Cohen replied.

“The problem of swapping Colonel Ferris for Felix Abrego may be solved. I just got off the phone with Stanley Crenshaw. He is probably at this moment telling the President what he told me.”

“Which was?”

“Roscoe J. Danton gave him until five minutes to nine tonight to explain why ol’ Felix has been transferred to the La Tuna Country Club, otherwise he goes on The Straight Scoop with Andy McClarren and tells the world.”

Cohen didn’t reply.

“I take back all the unkind things I ever said about devious diplomats,” Lammelle said. “That was pure genius.”

“What are you talking about?” she said.

“Well, Clendennen can’t send Abrego to Mexico now, can he?”

“How did Danton find out?” she asked.

“What is that, ‘credible deniability’? Your secret is safe with me, Natalie.”

“I didn’t tell Danton, if that’s what you’ve been thinking.”

“Then who the hell did? That’s a very interesting question, Natalie. Who knew besides Stanley and me? And possibly Mark Schmidt?”