W. Griffin - The Hostage

Castillo nodded.

"I told Tom McGuire," Miller went on, "and he's arranging for the aircraft to be met by a suitable Secret Service delegation."

Castillo nodded again, then asked, "How'd you hear about the Office of Organizational Analysis?"

"Secretary Hall showed it to me and Mrs. Forbison when we came in this morning," Miller said, then looked at Torine and added, "He said you'd been drafted, Colonel…"

"Given temporary duty, actually," Torine said.

"… but he didn't say anything about you, Fernando. How much about Charley's new exalted status do you know?"

"Consider him in. All the way," Castillo ordered.

"Can you do that?" Miller asked.

"There's a story that when General Donovan started the OSS-before he was General Donovan, when he was a civilian they called him 'colonel' because he'd been one in the First World War-he was paid a dollar a year. So hand Fernando a dollar and consider him on the payroll. I think I can do that."

"According to Hall, you can do just about anything you want to," Miller said. "So that makes"-he counted on his fingers-"three of us. You, the Texan, and me. Anybody else?"

Castillo turned to Torine and said, "We were talking about shooters in Argentina with General McNab. Jack Britton would make a good one."

Torine nodded his agreement.

"Where's Joel?"

"With Hall at the White House."

"Tom McGuire?"

"On his way here from Langley with your… modified… German passport. He also has your new American passport."

"When he gets here, I'll ask him if…" He stopped as Mrs. Agnes Forbison walked into the room.

The somewhat plump executive assistant to the secretary of Homeland Security walked up to Castillo and put her arms around him. "I'm so sorry about Betty Schneider," she said. "Did Dick tell you she's on the way to Philadelphia?"

"Just now."

"What were you going to ask the boss?" she asked, as she turned to smile at Torine and Fernando.

"I'm going to ask Tom if I can have Jack Britton. I'd like to send him back to Buenos Aires as soon as possible."

"You mean for the Office of Organizational Analysis?"

Castillo nodded.

"If you ask Tom, he will ask Joel. Joel will probably say yes, but if he doesn't, you'll go to the boss, who I know will give him to you. So consider it done."

"Okay, that's four," Miller said.

"I can think of two more people you could really use," Mrs. Forbison said.

"Who?"

"Tom, for one."

"I don't think that Tom would like taking orders from me," Castillo replied, "or that Hall would go along with that."

Mrs. Forbison seemed to be collecting her thoughts, and it was a moment before she responded.

"Charley," she said, "you need to learn to make better use of soft intel sources, and executive assistants such as myself are as good as it gets. Tom confided in me that he would really like to be in on this. Among your arguments for getting him-and there are many-is that you really need someone who knows his way around the dark alleys of federal law enforcement. He told me that, too."

Charley raised an eyebrow, both impressed at her ability to have her finger on the pulse of the department and disappointed in himself at having forgotten that she had her finger on said pulse. "Okay, I'll ask. I'd love to have Tom. And all Hall can say is no. Or probably 'hell, no.'"

"Let me handle the boss," Mrs. Forbison said.

"Good luck. Who else?"

"Me."

Castillo looked at her in genuine surprise.

"Why would you want to do that?"

"Well, you know how busy I am here keeping the furniture polished against the remote possibility that the secretary will bring somebody here to dazzle him with his elegant official office. We both know-more important, the boss knows-that Mary-Ellen really runs things for him and that he doesn't need both of us doing the same thing."

Castillo smiled at her.

Mrs. Mary-Ellen Kensington, a GS-15 like Mrs. Agnes Forbison who also carried the title of executive assistant to the secretary of Homeland Security, maintained Hall's small and unpretentious suite of offices in the Old Executive Office Building, near the White House. Hall spent most of his time there. He and the President were close personal friends, and the President liked to have him at hand when he wanted him.

"Mrs. Kellenhamp," Mrs. Forbison went on, "can supervise the furniture polishing as well as I can, and bringing her out here would also get her out of Mary-Ellen's hair."

Mrs. Louise Kellenhamp, a GS-13 who carried the titleof deputy executive assistant, worked in the OEOB performing mostly secretarial-type duties.

"You've given this some thought, haven't you?" Castillo asked.

"From the moment I realized the boss, whether he wanted to or not, was going to have to have his own intelligence people. And now that we have, thanks to the President, this 'clandestine and covert' Office of Organizational Analysis hiding in the Department of Homeland Security, it seems to me that you're really going to need someone who knows her way around official Washington. And how to push paper around."

"What do we do with him?" Castillo asked, nodding toward Major H. Richard Miller, Jr. "Send him back to Walter Reed?"

"Eventually, he'll get out of that cast," Mrs. Forbison said. "And if he behaves himself, he can try to make himself useful around here until he does."

"God spare us all from conniving bureaucrats," Miller said piously.

"You know I'm right, Charley," Mrs. Forbison said.

"You think you can talk the boss into this?" Castillo said.

"Consider it done," she said. "The next time the subject comes up, act pleasantly surprised when the boss says 'I've had an idea, Charley, I'd like to run past you.'"

"Mrs. Forbison, you're marvelous," Castillo said.

"I know," she replied. "Now that that's settled, Chief, what's on our agenda this morning?"

"I brought a satellite radio, and an operator, from Fort Bragg. Like we did when we were hunting the stolen 727, the dish has to go on the roof, and the operator's going to need a place to live," Castillo said.

"Dick," Mrs. Forbison said, "if you'll take care of the operator, I'll deal with the building engineer. His delicate feelings were bruised the last time the chief put that thing on the roof."

"Yes, ma'am," Miller replied, smiling.

"And I need the passports," Castillo said.

"They're on the way," Mrs. Forbison said. "Tom's handling that."

"And I have to call Ambassador Silvio or Alex Darby-preferably both-on a secure line." He looked at Miller. "McNab is sending equipment for six shooters down there. I want to make sure it doesn't get lost."

"You'll have to use the one on my desk for that," Mrs. Forbison said. "I ordered one for you this morning, but it won't be in until later today."

"You ordered one for me?" Castillo asked, surprised.

"You're now on the White House circuit, didn't you know?"

"No, ma'am, I didn't."

"Well, you are. Anything else?"

"We'll need someplace to stay in Paris. The Crillon, if we can get in."

"Fancy," Mrs. Forbison said.

"And right next door to the embassy. Have them bill it to Gossinger. Four rooms."

"Let's talk about that," Mrs. Forbison said. "You, I can put on orders. The colonel, presumably, is already on orders?"

"Yes, ma'am," Colonel Torine said.

"But what about the other operator and Fernando?"

"I'll pick up the bill for the operator," Castillo said. "Then he can pocket the per diem check he gets from Fort Bragg. And I'll pick up Fernando's bill, too."

"If we hire him as a temporary contract employee… maybe as an aircraft pilot… I can cut orders on him, too."

"Mrs. Forbison, at the risk of repeating myself, you're wonderful," Castillo said.

"At the risk of repeating myself, Chief, I know. But you're going to have to start calling me Agnes."