W. Griffin - The shooters

"No. Just something else that comes as a surprise," Castillo said. "Okay, how about this? We go to Chicago and 'assure the family,' and then we go to Midland and either leave Alfredo there or-why not?-pick up Munz's wife and daughters and take everybody to Las Vegas. We get the avionics installed and the hundred-hour done. How long is that service going to take?"

"Twenty-four hours, maybe forty-eight. It depends on (a) what they turn up in the hundred-hour and (b) how long it takes Casey's people to install the avionics."

"Not long, I would think," Miller said, "as I suspect we can count on Aloysius either putting it in himself or standing over whoever else does."

"If it takes more than forty-eight hours, I'll just go to New Orleans commercial to try to talk the ambassador out of going to Shangri-La."

"Where the hell have you been, Charley?" Torine asked. "Louis Armstrong is closed to all but emergency traffic-they're picking people off the roofs of their houses with choppers, using Louis Armstrong as the base. And Lakefront is under fifteen feet of water."

"Keesler?" Castillo asked.

"Wiped out."

"Okay. Moving right along, if they can't do the airplane in forty-eight hours, I'll go to Atlanta commercial and then Fort Rucker and borrow something with revolving wings and fly that to Masterson's plantation."

"That may not work, either," Miller said.

"Hey, I'm drunk with the power I've been given. You were awake, weren't you, when I said the President said he was going to tell the secretary of Defense to give me whatever I think I need."

"That presupposes Rucker has a chopper to loan you," Miller said. "I suspect that their birds are among those picking people off rooftops in New Orleans."

"Then I'll rent one in Atlanta."

"Same reply," Miller said.

"I think they'd loan you a helicopter at Rucker, Charley," Torine said, "even if they had to bring it back from picking people off roofs in New Orleans." He paused. "You sure you want to do that?"

"No, of course I don't. Okay. So scaling down my grandiose ambitions to conform with reality, I'll fly to Atlanta, take a taxi to Fulton County, and rent a twin Cessna or something. That's probably a better solution anyway."

"It probably is," Torine agreed. "I just had another unpleasant thought. Even if Masterson's airstrip is not under water and long enough for us to get the Gulfstream in there, it's probably being used by a lot of other airplanes."

"Yeah," Castillo agreed. "Okay. Correct me where I'm wrong. The priority is to get to Chicago and, quote, assure the mayor, unquote. I suppose I could do that commercial. But we are going to need the Gulfstream, and with the hundred-hour out of the way."

"And, better yet, with the new avionics," Miller said.

"Right. We have enough time left to go to Chicago, then, with a stop in Midland, to Las Vegas, right?"

"Probably with a couple of hours left over," Torine said.

"So that's what we'll do. And wing it from there, so to speak," Castillo said. "Where's Lorimer? Does he have a uniform?"

"Upstairs and yes," Miller said.

"Okay. Everybody but Jake and Miller go play with the dogs or something while we deal with Lieutenant Lorimer," Castillo said.

Miller started to get up.

"Keep your seat, Dick," Special Agent David W. Yung said. "I'll get him."

"This is where I'm supposed to say, 'I'm perfectly able to climb a flight of stairs,'" Miller said. "But what I am going to say is 'You will be rewarded in heaven, David, for your charity to this poor cripple.'"

Tom McGuire came into the living room first.

"Agnes told me," he said. "Jesus!"

"I only took the job because I knew how you hungered to see the natural beauty and other wonders of Paraguay," Castillo said. "You okay to leave right away for three, four days?"

McGuire nodded and asked, "Where we going? Paraguay?"

"First to Chicago, then to Las Vegas. It's kind of iffy after Vegas."

"I am always ready to go to Las Vegas on a moment's notice, but what's going on in Chicago?"

Castillo told him of the President's call.

"…And," Castillo finished, "I think a distinguished Supervisory Secret Service agent such as yourself can help reassure this guy's family, who are all cops."

McGuire nodded his understanding but said, "I think I should fess up right away, Charley. I have been successfully avoiding the drug business since I joined the service, and the only thing I know about it is what I read in the papers."

"I think, then, that this is what they call the blind leading the blind," Castillo said.

The door opened and a uniformed First Lieutenant Edmund Lorimer, Intelligence, U.S. Army, stepped in the room, came almost to attention, and waited.

Castillo thought he looked like a Special Forces recruiting poster, and remembered what the President had said about the First Lady saying that about him.

He's even wearing jump boots, Castillo thought, which triggered a mental image of a highly polished, laced-up Corcoran boot from the top of which extended a titanium pole topped by a fully articulated titanium knee.

"Good morning, Lorimer," Castillo said. "Come on in and sit down. We don't do much standing at attention or saluting around here."

"Good morning, sir. Thank you, sir."

"Colonel Torine you know, and Major Miller. This is Supervisory Special Agent Tom McGuire of the Secret Service."

McGuire wordlessly offered Lorimer his hand.

"Before these witnesses, Lorimer," Castillo said formally, "I am going to tell you-again-that anything you see, hear, or surmise here, or at any place at any time about what we're doing or have done, or plan to do, is classified Top Secret Presidential. Is that clear in your mind?"

"Yes, sir."

"Any questions about that?"

"No, sir."

"The President of the United States has tasked the Office of Organizational Analysis, under the authority of an existing Presidential Finding, with freeing Special Agent Timmons from his kidnappers," Castillo said.

"Jesus H. Christ!" Lorimer exclaimed. "Wonderful! Colonel, I don't know how to thank you!"

Castillo looked at him coldly until Lorimer's face showed that he understood that his response had not been welcomed.

"If you have your emotions under control, Lieutenant, I will continue with the admonition that any further emotional outbreaks will not be tolerated."

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. It won't happen again."

"Lorimer, to clear the air, have you ever been given an order that you were sure you were not equipped to carry out?"

"Yes, sir."

"And what did you do when you were given an order you knew you were not equipped to carry out?"

"Sir, I told him I didn't know how to do what he was ordering me to do."

"And then?"

"And then I tried to do it."

"Were you successful in carrying out the order?"

"No, sir. I wasn't. But I tried."

"That's the situation here, Lorimer. We have been given an order that is in our judgment beyond our ability to carry out. But we are going to try very hard to obey that order. You have absolutely no reason, therefore, to thank me. Clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"So long as you remain useful-and, more important, cause me and OOA no trouble of any kind-I am going to permit you to participate in this operation."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

"To say this is probationary would be an understatement. There will be no second chances. Phrased another way, Lieutenant, you fuck up once and you're dead meat. Clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"We are going to Chicago just as soon as I can change into uniform. Our mission, at the personal order of the President, is to assure Timmons's family that everything possible is being done to get him back. Since I don't have a clue about how to get him back, that's probably going to be difficult. One thing we can do, however, is produce you."