W Griffin - Hunters

"So the commander in chief backed off, except to phone General Naylor, and order him the moment he learned that the slowly grinding wheels of the Army promotion system had finally ground out that it was time to promote Major Castillo to let me know immediately. Which he did the day before yesterday."

He turned to Castillo, shook his right hand, and put his left on Castillo's shoulder.

"So you, Colonel Castillo, are going to have to be satisfied with better late than never. Congratulations, Charley."

"Thank you, sir."

There was polite laughter, applause, and another round of handshaking.

"Over the objections of the secretary of state, who fears that after one drink I will give the country away to our guests tonight, we will now toast Colonel Castillo's new rank," the President said.

A white-jacketed steward appeared with a tray of champagne glasses and distributed them.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the President said, his glass raised, "Lieutenant Colonel C. G. Castillo."

The President had just put his glass to his lips when a steward motioned that he had a telephone call.

"Natalie and I have been expecting that," the President said. "Will you excuse us, please?"

He and the secretary of state left the room.

General Naylor walked up to Charley.

"Thank you for the shoulder boards, sir," Charley said.

"My pleasure, Colonel," Naylor said. "And if you have no further need for your old ones, Allan's on the major's list."

"I'd be honored to have Allan wear them, sir."

Ambassador Montvale joined them. He laid an almost paternal hand on Castillo's shoulder.

"I think you were genuinely surprised by this, weren't you, Colonel? I agree with the President that it's overdue."

An alarm bell went off in Castillo's mind:

Why is this sonofabitch charming me?

Because the President made that little speech? Set up this ceremony in the first place?

No. He wants something. What?

He doesn't want me complaining about his goddamned liaison officer. That's what it is. He knows that right now, the President is in a mood to give me just about anything I ask for.

If I don't bite the bullet now about that-and doing so now would ruin this "we're all pals" ambiance-by the time I get back, and God only knows when that will be-I'll permanently be stuck with Mr. Truman Ellsworth.

"General Naylor told me a long time ago that waiting for a promotion is like watching a glacier," Castillo said. "For a long time, absolutely nothing-and then all of a sudden a great big splash."

Montvale and Naylor chuckled.

What's that line from Basic Tactics 101?

The best defense is a good offense.

"Mr. Ambassador," Charley said, "I'd like a few minutes of your time, if that would be possible."

Naylor's surprise was evident on his face.

"Certainly," Montvale said. "Sometime tomorrow afternoon?"

"Sir, just as soon as I can I'm going to be on a plane to Paris."

"You mean now?"

"If that would be possible, sir."

"Actually, I've been wanting to have a private word with you, too," Montvale said, thoughtfully. "And this would seem to be one of those fortuitous circumstances."

"Thank you, sir," Castillo said.

"Especially since General Naylor is here," Montvale went on.

"Excuse me?" Naylor said.

"We could go to the situation room and use the bubble, but I'm afraid that the three of us going there would attract attention. Wouldn't you agree, General? Someone would decide that something is going on that they should know about."

"Mr. Ambassador," Naylor said, "my aide is waiting outside with a car to take me to Andrews. Just as soon as I can get away from here I'm going back to Tampa."

"So far as getting away from here is concerned," Montvale said, "our role in tonight's events is over. The President has moved on to other things on his agenda. And if something unexpected comes up, he knows how to find us. I really don't want to waste the next couple of hours smiling at people I don't really like."

"I was just thinking the same thing," Naylor confessed, smiling.

"I know," Montvale said. "The Army and Navy Club. We could talk there. Could I impose and suggest we go there?"

"Mr. Ambassador, I really have to get back to Tampa," Naylor said.

"General, I just saved us from two hours-at least-of smiling at people we don't like. Can't you spare me thirty minutes? I'd really like for you to be there when the colonel and I have our little chat."

"Yes, of course," Naylor said. "Playing the game, I suggest we leave in our own vehicles," Montvale said as they approached the portico.

"Secretary Hall brought me here," Castillo said. "May I ride with you, General?"

"You can use the pool," Montvale said.

"Sir?"

Montvale answered by speaking to one of the Secret Service uniformed police guards at the door.

"We'll need my car, General Naylor's, and Colonel Castillo will need one from the pool," he ordered.

"Yes, sir," the guard said. Then he spoke to his lapel microphone. "Send up Big Eye's car, Tampa One's car, and one from the pool for Don Juan." Then he turned to Montvale. "They'll be right here, sir," he said.

Thirty seconds later, a dark blue GMC Yukon XL pulled up.

"I'll wait for you in the lobby," Montvale said to Naylor. "All right?"

"That'll be fine."

As Montvale got in the Yukon, a dark blue Chevrolet Suburban pulled up behind it.

A full colonel wearing the insignia of an aide-de-camp got out of the front passenger's seat as a staff sergeant came out from behind the wheel to snatch the covers from the four-star bumper plates.

Castillo, as a reflex action, saluted the colonel.

"Jack, take the car to the Army-Navy Club," Naylor said. "I'll ride with Maj…Colonel Castillo."

"Yes, sir," the colonel said.

Another dark blue Yukon came up the drive and pulled in ahead of the Chevrolet as the sergeant put the covers back over Naylor's four-star plates. A Secret Service agent got out of the front passenger's seat and opened the rear door.

Naylor climbed in and Castillo followed him. The Secret Service agent closed the door, got in front, and turned to look in the back.

"Where to, sir?"

"The Army-Navy Club, please," Castillo said.

"Yes, sir," the Secret Service agent said and then spoke to his microphone. "Don Juan, with Tampa One aboard, leaving the grounds for the Army-Navy Club."

The Yukon started down the drive toward Pennsylvania Avenue.

"'Don Juan, with Tampa One aboard'?" Naylor parroted.

"Don Juan is Joel Isaacson's idea of humor," Charley said.

"Charley, I've got something to say. And I think I better say it before we get there."

"Yes, sir."

"What I was thinking tonight-and don't misunderstand me, you earned that promotion-was that I really wish I hadn't sent you to work for Matt Hall."

"Me, too."

"I wonder if you mean that," Naylor said. "This is pretty heady stuff, Charley. A Secret Service car, a Secret Service code name. I am reminded of Lieutenant Colonel Oliver North and that worries me."

Castillo didn't reply.

"I would have been much happier if your promotion meant you now would take command of some battalion," Naylor said.

"I would, too, sir. I didn't ask for this job. And I asked to be relieved."

"Well, that's not going to happen and that's what worries me," Naylor said, then suddenly shifted subjects: "Do you have any idea why Montvale wants me at the club?" Then, before Castillo could reply, he asked another: "Why did you want to talk to him?"

"I have no idea why he wants you there, but the reason I want to talk to him is because he sent me Truman Ellsworth to be his liaison officer-read spy…"

"Truman Ellsworth is a former under secretary of state," Naylor interrupted. "A liaison officer with that background?"