W Griffin - Hunters

"That means you offer me something in lieu thereof and I decide if I'm willing to take it."

"That telephone call I made just now? It was to my chief of staff, Major Richard Miller."

"What about him?"

"You take Mr. Ellsworth out of my office and I will instruct Major Miller to tell you-promptly-everything he can, without putting the lives of my men at risk, about what I'm doing and why."

"We are, I presume, talking about the same Major Miller who comes to my mind?"

"Excuse me?"

"The general's son? The man whose life you saved-at considerable risk to your life and career-in Afghanistan? The man whom Mr. Wilson accused of making improper advances to her when she was in fact at the time making the beast with two backs in your bed? That Major Miller?"

"Yes, sir. That Major Miller."

"Deal," Montvale said and got half out of his chair and put out his hand.

Jesus H. Christ!

This is too easy.

When does the other shoe drop?

Montvale's grip was firm.

"Our new relationship will probably be a good deal less unpleasant for you than I suspect you suspect it will be," Montvale said, smiling.

"Yes, sir," Castillo said.

"Okay, why are you going to Paris?" Montvale asked, retaking his seat.

Okay, a deal is a deal. I'll live up to my end of it.

"I got Ambassador Lorimer, Mr. Lorimer's father, to give me sort of power of attorney to settle his affairs in Paris and Uruguay. I want to see what I can turn up in his apartment and at his estancia."

"You're also going to Uruguay?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you think you are qualified to perform searches of that nature?"

"No, sir, I don't. I'm going to enlist the CIA station chiefs in both places to help me."

"What makes you think they will?"

"Because I have already dealt with them, sir. They'll help."

Montvale nodded.

"Anything else I should know?"

"I have a source in Budapest. I'd rather not identify him. He gave me a list of names of people involved in the oil-for-food business, with the caveat that I do not turn them over to the agency or anyone else. I'm going there to see if I can get him to release me from that agreement."

"And if he doesn't?"

"Then I will have to see if I can get another list from someone else."

Montvale nodded but did not respond directly, instead asking, "What's happened to the money?"

"We got it out of Uruguay, first into an account an FBI agent there had opened in the Caymans…"

"Yung? The one who was with you when Lorimer was terminated?"

"Yes, sir. I'm sending him back to Uruguay to cover our tracks."

"He'll be able to do that?"

"I think so, sir."

"He would probably be useful permanently assigned to you," Montvale said. "Have you thought about that?"

"Yes, sir. I have. Secretary Hall arranged it."

"Well, fine. But the next time something like that comes up, I suggest you come to me with it."

What is he doing, trying to cut Matt Hall out of the loop?

"Yes, sir."

"You said 'first' into Yung's account?" Montvale pursued.

"And then I moved it into an account I opened in the same bank, the Liechtensteinische Landesbank. That took place today."

"In your name?"

"In the name of an identity-that of a German national-I use sometimes. I thought that would be best."

"And you can trust the people at Gossinger Beteiligungsgesellschaft, G.m.b.H., to keep their mouths shut?" Montvale asked.

"Yes, sir," Castillo said, as the realization dawned, Jesus Christ, he knows about that, too. And he asked the question in absolutely fluent German.

Montvale switched back to English.

"Goddamn, he is good, isn't he, General?" Montvale asked.

Naylor didn't reply. Instead, he asked, "Am I permitted to ask, 'What money?'"

"You can ask, of course," Montvale said, smiling. "But getting an answer would depend on the colonel, as he correctly pointed out he and the President are the only ones with the key to the Finding. It would be a felony for me to tell you."

What's he doing now? Playing with me? With General Naylor? With both of us?

"General," Castillo said. "Lorimer had nearly sixteen million dollars in several banks in Uruguay. We took it over. It is now the operating fund for the Office of Organizational Analysis."

"How did you manage to do that?" Naylor asked.

"He doesn't need to know that, does he, Colonel?" Montvale asked.

"No, I don't," Naylor answered for him. "And I don't think I want to."

"I have access to business jets in Europe and in Brazil," Montvale said. "Would it facilitate your travel if I made them available to you?"

"It would probably draw attention to me," Castillo replied.

"They're agency assets, actually," Montvale said. "The agency owns two charter companies in Europe and one in Brazil. Sort of an aerial version of the Town Car limos that prowl the streets of Manhattan. I don't think taking a ride in one would draw undue attention to you. All I would really be doing-unless you needed a plane for more than carrying you from point A to point B-would be ensuring you went to the head of the line."

"Can I have a rain check?"

"When we shook hands, you got your rain check," Montvale said. "Good for as long as you hold up your end of our deal."

He took a large wallet from his jacket, took a card from it, and laid the card on the table. Then he took an electronic notebook from another pocket, consulted it, and wrote several numbers on the card. He handed the card to Castillo.

"By the time you get to France, the aerial limo services will understand that when you call, you go to the head of the line. The bottom number on there is mine. Use it if you ever need anything you think I can provide and can't get through to me through the White House switchboard."

"Thank you," Castillo said.

"Can you think of anything else I can do for you?" Montvale asked.

"Mr. Wilson is a now a senior analyst in the agency's South American Division's Southern Cone Section," Castillo said.

Montvale pursed his lips thoughtfully.

"I knew she managed not to get fired, but I didn't know that," he said. "We can't have that, can we?"

"Miller and I ran into her in the lobby of the Mayflower earlier tonight," Castillo said. "She called me a miserable sonofabitch."

"Well, I can see how she might feel that way," Montvale said. "I'll deal with it first thing tomorrow."

"Thank you."

"Anything else?"

"No, sir, I can't think of anything else."

"Well, in that case, I'm afraid I'm going to have to be going," Montvale said.

He stood up, drained his drink, and offered his hand to Naylor, who had risen to his feet.

"It's always a pleasure, General Naylor," he said.

Then he turned to Castillo, shook his hand, and patted his shoulder.

"This turned out better than either of us thought it would, didn't it?" he asked. "Keep in touch, Colonel."

"Yes, sir, I will."

Montvale walked out of the room and Naylor and Castillo sat down.

"Jesus Christ!" Charley said. "Why does his being so cheerful, charming, and accommodating make me so uncomfortable?"

"Maybe because you weren't asleep when they were lecturing about never under estimating your enemy?"

Castillo chuckled.

"I'm sorry I said that," Naylor said thoughtfully a moment later. "That was a hell of a session, but I'm not so sure he doesn't mean exactly what he said. The bottom line is that he got what he wanted."

"Which was?"

"If you succeed, he can claim credit. If you fail, he can say it wouldn't have happened if you worked for him."

Castillo grunted.

"And he was right," Naylor went on. "You do need his influence and authority. The FBI and the CIA-and everybody else-are afraid of him. And with good reason. Once it becomes known, as it soon will, that he's standing behind you, people will think very carefully before knifing you in the back."