“What did you say your class was? At the Academy?”
“ ’Ninety, sir.”
“Then I can’t believe you said what you just said. You’re a West Pointer.”
“Yes, sir. I am.”
“Well, Colonel, unless the course of instruction at our alma mater has dramatically changed since you and I last marched across our beloved plain above the Hudson, they are still teaching that he who is senior is in command.”
No shit, Hamilton!
And no one is more senior than the commander in chief.
And the President is my senior—but I damn well can’t say that.
I’ve got to somehow beat this sonofabitch at his own game . . . but how?
“Sir, with respect, I don’t think that applies when one of the officers is of the combat arms and the other in the medical corps. In that situation, the senior combat arms officer is in command.”
“Good God, Castillo! You didn’t think I was going to go into the Congo wearing a Red Cross and caduceus—caduci? Is that the plural? I never seem to remember—and claiming the protection of the Geneva and other applicable conventions, did you? I’m not out of my mind. I’m going in armed as heavily as I can arrange. Mr. D’Allessando is taking me out and teaching me to fire the Mini Uzi as soon as we finish this conversation.”
Berezovsky saw the look on Castillo’s face.
He first laid a gentle hand on Castillo’s wrist, and when Castillo looked at him, Berezovsky signaled Slow down, calm down, take it easy all with one motion of his hand and a gentle, understanding smile.
“That’s very good of Mr. D’Allessando, sir.”
D’Allessando’s voice, his tone very serious, came over the speaker: “I always try to be helpful, Colonel Castillo. You know that.”
Hamilton went on: “So let’s clear the air between us, Castillo. My view of our relationship is this: When my people . . .”
You can stick “your people” up your ass, Hamilton!
I’ve had enough of your secret “protectors”!
“. . . authorized my participation in this operation, it was understood between us that General McNab was in command. Now that the other calls upon his time have taken him out of the picture, command thus falls to the next senior officer, which happens to be me. I will, of course, defer to your judgment in those areas of your expertise and seek your counsel. Now, Colonel, do you have any trouble with that?”
Berezovsky touched Castillo’s wrist again and shook his head.
“No, sir, I do not.”
Berezovsky gave Charley a thumbs-up.
Charley looked at Svetlana. He couldn’t tell if she felt sorry for him or thought what was going on was just short of hilarious.
“Fine, Colonel Castillo. On reflection, I’m glad this came up when it did, rather than later. Now, as to what has to be done.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Mr. DeWitt and I have to go to Washington. My people have arranged for visas for us—it usually takes weeks, I was told—for not only Tanzania but for Rwanda and Burundi, and—this should please you, Castillo—for the Democratic Republic of the Congo as well. But they cannot get around the requirement that the passport must be presented by the holder—or is that the holdee?—personally.
“Then I have to go to Fort Dietrich to pick up my equipment.”
“Your equipment, sir?”
“Yes. It will be taken, Mr. D’Allessando assures me, to Africa aboard your airplane with the ‘shooters.’ I had never heard that term before, but, especially after what I saw at Camp Mackall just now, I’m rather assured by what it connotes.”
“Sir, what sort of equipment are we talking about?”
“My testing equipment. There are three rather large soft-sided suitcases. Getting them through customs would have posed a major problem, but your shooter’s airplane has solved that. Getting them from Fort Dietrich here is the instant problem.”
“Sir, I can—”
“Mr. D’Allessando suggests that Mr. DeWitt and I leave Bragg and fly to Washington today. There is a Delta flight at 1620 to Washington, via Atlanta.”
Castillo thought quickly, then said, “As usual, Colonel, Mr. D’Allessando knows what should be done. And I’ll have Major Miller—you remember him, sir?”
“Yes. The officer with the injured knee.”
“I’ll have Major Miller meet your plane, sir.”
“That’s very kind of you, Colonel, but I can make it from Reagan to my home without assistance, and I’ll be happy to have Mr. DeWitt’s company. It’ll give us a chance to get to know one another, so to speak, before our trip.”
“Sir, with respect, this is my area of expertise.”
Hamilton was silent a moment, and apparently remembered his offer to listen to suggestions. “Go on, Colonel.”
“I will have Major Miller meet you, sir. We have a house in Alexandria—for that matter, we keep a suite at the Mayflower Hotel—where I’m sure you would be comfortable. It’s central—”
“I know where it is, Colonel,” Hamilton interrupted. “In some circles, it’s known as the Motel Monica Lewinsky.”
“Yes, sir, I’d heard that. Major Miller can take you to the various embassies, and then out to Fort Dietrich for your equipment.”
“How are we going to get that back here to Fort Bragg, Castillo? Have you given that any thought?”
“If you’ll bear with me a moment, sir?”
“Go ahead.”
“Major Miller will then take the equipment to Baltimore, where a plane will be waiting to bring you and Mr. DeWitt—and, of course, your equipment—back to Bragg.”
“Is there some reason that I don’t know why Mr. DeWitt and I should come back to Fort Bragg?”
Shit.
“No, sir. I didn’t think that through.”
“Obviously.” He paused dramatically. “Now, once we have our visas, we can be on our way.”
“Yes, sir. Major Miller will also arrange your transportation to Africa.”
“That would be helpful.”
“Mr. D’Allessando will inform Miller of your ETA at Reagan,” Castillo said.
There was a long pause as both men thought. Finally, Colonel Hamilton broke it: “That would seem to be it, wouldn’t you say, Castillo?”
“I can’t think of anything else, sir.”
“We’ll be in touch, of course.”
“Yes, sir.”
“How does one hang this thing up, Mr. D’Allessando?”
[SIX]
0940 8 January 2006
“I know what you’re thinking, Carlos,” Dmitri Berezovsky said after Castillo had set things up with Miller. “But that could have gone wrong and it didn’t.”
“I thought you done good, Charley,” Davidson said, then added admiringly: “He is one starchy sonofabitch, ain’t he?”
“Starch melts in hot water. Like in a cannibal’s pot?”
Berezovsky chuckled but said: “I have the feeling the colonel knows how to handle the cannibals.”
Castillo looked at him and shook his head. “Well, now that your boundless optimism has removed that weight from my shoulders, we can turn to Bradley’s shopping list.” He looked at him. “What did you come up with, Les?”
“Sir, while I know what we should have in terms of equipment capability, I’m afraid I haven’t been able to convert that into what we need in terms of specific equipment that might—or might not—be available in an Office Depot or Radio Shack store.”
“Which, off the top of my head, Les, means that you don’t get to go to bed until after you’ve gone shopping. Sorry about that. Let me see what you have.”