W. Griffin - The Hostage

He looked at her but didn't immediately reply.

"Please don't tell me-I already know-that I'm nearly old enough to be your mother. But you have just become a bureaucratic heavy, Chief, and bureaucratic heavies call their executive assistants by their first names."

"Whatever you say… Agnes," Castillo said, and then asked, "What do I do about Secretary Hall?"

"He said that he'd like you, if possible, to come by the OEOB before you leave."

"I'll do it." Thirty minutes later, after having spoken with both Ambassador Silvio and Alex Darby; after being informed that the Hotel Crillon would be expecting all of them; after having received his new American passport and his German passport now bearing a departure stamp from the Republic of Argentina; and after having talked to Tom McGuire long enough to be convinced that McGuire really wanted to become a member of the Office of Organizational Analysis and was going to have no problems working under a man ten years his junior, Castillo shook hands with Dick Miller and then went to Mrs. Forbison's office to say goodbye to her.

She gave him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek and told him to be careful. He and Torine and Fernando were waiting for the elevator when Mrs. Forbison put her head in the corridor.

"Call for you, Chief."

"If you keep calling me chief, we're back to Mrs. Forbison. Who is it?"

"Somebody who wants to talk about Jean-Paul."

"Jean-Paul Lorimer?"

"All he said was Jean-Paul, Charley."

Castillo went into Mrs. Forbison's office and picked up the telephone.

"Castillo."

"You'll have to remember to turn your cellular on," Howard Kennedy said.

"Jesus, it's in my briefcase."

"Then it wouldn't matter, would it, if it's on or off?"

"What's up, Howard?"

"You have really opened a can of truly poisonous worms with that pal of yours, the one you asked me to find."

"What kind of poisonous worms?"

"The kind I have been absolutely forbidden to talk about on the telephone," Kennedy said.

"That bad?"

"Worse than that bad. Where can we meet?"

"Where are you?"

"Answer the question."

"As soon as I can go by the hotel and pack some clothes, and after a stop at Hall's coffee shop on Pennsylvania Avenue, I'm going to get on an airplane for Paris."

"What flight?"

"Air San Antonio, flight seventeen."

"Oh, really? Anybody I know coming with you?"

"The same crew we had in Cozumel. You know both of them."

"Interesting. And where will you be staying in Paris?"

"The Crillon."

"Lovely hotel. Unfortunately, too close for me to some former associates of mine who work close by."

Christ, I forgot to tell, or remind, Tom McGuire to find out what Special Agent Yung of the FBI is really doing in Montevideo! Castillo thought, then said, "What do you suggest?"

"When did you say you're leaving?"

"As soon as we can."

"You can't make it nonstop in that airplane, can you?"

"No. We're going to have to refuel at Gander, Newfoundland, and Shannon, Ireland. I figure it's going to take us, factoring in two one-hour fuel stops, about ten hours."

"Well, it's nearly half past four in Paris," Kennedy said. "If you get off the ground in an hour, that would make it half past five. Five plus ten is three o'clock in the morning. Figure another hour at least to get through customs and immigration, to get to the Crillon from Le Bourget… Is that where you're headed, Le Bourget?"

"Yeah," Castillo said.

"It will be five o'clock when you get to the hotel from Le Bourget. Factor in another hour for delays, call it six. See you in the morning, Charley. We really do need to talk."

There was a change in the background noise, and Castillo realized that Kennedy had hung up. [TWO] Old Executive Office Building Seventeenth Street and Pennsylvania Avenue, NW Washington, D.C. 1120 26 July 2005 "The President told me you'd had a little chat," the Honorable Matthew Hall, secretary of the Department of Homeland Security, said. "You have any questions about that?"

"One big one," Castillo replied. "The soldier in me is uncomfortable not understanding my chain of command."

"The simple answer to that is that you answer to the President directly," Hall said. "But I think I know what you're asking. And proving that I'm learning to be a Washington bureaucrat, let me answer obliquely. When he came up with that finding, I wondered why I had been taken out of the loop. Then I realized I had not been. It all goes to deniability. I can now honestly answer, if someone asks, and someone inevitably will, either as a shot-in-the-dark fishing expedition or because this comes out, what's my relationship to you, that we have none. You don't work for me.

"Similarly, if someone asks the President's chief of staff what he knows about C. G. Castillo or the Office of Organizational Analysis, he can honestly say he doesn't know anything about it. If we get caught-which is a real possibility-we can hide behind the President's finding.

"The further you distance the Office of Organizational Analysis from the President, the better. That's why he's hiding it in Homeland Security. As far as you working for him directly, there's a lot of captains through colonels-the aides, the guys who carry the football, for example-who work for him directly, and if some enterprising reporter sniffs you out, you can answer the same way they are instructed to. 'Sorry, my duties in the White House are classified. You'll have to ask the White House.' Still with me?"

"Sir, what I was really asking was how much of what I'm doing do I tell him. Or you."

"As far as 'or me' is concerned: Whatever you tell me I will tell the President when I think I should, and only then. The President is not interested in the means, just the end. That's what puts me back in the loop. I will tell him only those things which may require some action on his part-I'm thinking of 'Hell no, we can't do that; tell him to stop.'" He paused, then asked, "You understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Okay. Now is there anything you need?"

"Just one thing I can think of, sir. I asked Tom McGuire to do it for me, but I'm not sure-don't misunderstand this, I have a profound admiration for his abilities-that he'll be able to do it."

"You have 'a profound admiration for his abilities'?" Hall asked.

"Yes, sir."

"How would you like to have Tom working for you?"

"Is that possible, sir?"

"Joel suggested he would be very useful to you. I agree. Should I ask Tom?"

"I'd really like to have him, sir," Castillo said, and thought, I have just proved that I, too, am learning to be a Washington bureaucrat. Those answers were, without being out-and-out lies, certainly designed to mislead. I already know Tom wants to work for me and that it's possible.

"Okay, I will. Now what don't you think Tom will be able to do?"

"Find out what FBI agent Yung is really doing in Montevideo. If he's doing something covertly, they're not going to tell Tom."

"What makes you think he's not doing what he says he is?"

"I don't think you want to know, sir."

"Ah, you're learning," Hall said. "Has this guy got a first name?"

"David William, sir. Junior."

Hall pushed the speakerphone button on his telephone.

"Mary-Ellen, will you get me Director Schmidt on a secure line, please?"

"Right away, Mr. Secretary," Mary-Ellen Kensington said.

He pushed the button again and looked at Castillo.

"I know the DCI knows about the finding; he called me first thing this morning to feel me out about it. I don't think Schmidt has seen it yet. This is one-upmanship, Charley. A dirty game we all have to learn to play."

The speaker came alive with Mrs. Kensington's voice:

"Director Schmidt is on one, Mr. Secretary, the line is secure."