"It's my cologne, sir," Castillo said. "Eau de Harley-Davidson. It gets them every time."
The secretary laughed.
Sergeant First Class DeLaney smiled somewhat uneasily.
Jesus, DeLaney thought, what if that big bastard had taken a dive out the door?
[THREE]
The Carolina White House
Hilton Head Island, South Carolina
1355 27 May 2005
The president of the United States was sitting in one of the upholstered wicker rocking chairs on the porch of an eight-year-old house that had been carefully designed and built so that most people thought it was bona fide antebellum and surprised that such a house had been built way back then overlooking the Atlantic Ocean.
The president, who was wearing a somewhat faded yellow polo shirt with the Brooks Brothers sheep embroidered on the chest, sharply creased but obviously not new khaki trousers, and highly polished loafers, was drinking Heineken beer from the bottle. A galvanized bucket on the floor beside his chair held a reserve buried in ice.
The president pushed himself out of his chair and set his beer bottle on the wicker table as a white GMC Yukon with heavily tinted windows pulled up.
The driver got out quickly and ran around the front of the Yukon in a vain attempt to open the driver's door before the secretary could do so himself.
"Hey, Matt!" the president greeted the secretary, his accent sounding comfortable at home in its native Carolina.
The secretary walked up on the porch and offered his hand.
"Good afternoon, Mr. President," he said.
"It's always a pleasure to see you, Matt," the president said with a smile.
Major Carlos Guillermo Castillo, Aviation, U.S. Army, stood by the Yukon waiting for some indication of what he should do.
The president looked at him and smiled and then turned his back on the Yukon.
"Don't tell me that's your Tex-Mex linguist?" the president asked.
"That's him, Mr. President," the secretary said.
"That guy's name is Guillermo Castillo?"
" Carlos Guillermo Castillo," the secretary said, smiling. "Yes, sir, Mr. President."
The president chuckled, and then with a smile and a friendly wave ordered Castillo onto the porch.
"Welcome to the island, Major," the president said, offering him his hand.
"Thank you, Mr. President."
"Where's home, Major?" the president asked.
"San Antonio, sir," Castillo said.
"I've got two questions for you, Major," the president said. "The first is, Can I offer you a beer?"
"Yes, sir. Thank you very much," Castillo said.
The president took two bottles of beer from the bucket and handed one to Castillo and the other to Secretary Hall and then produced a bottle opener.
"Every time I try to twist one of the easy-open caps off, I cut the hell out of my hand," the president announced. He waited a beat, then added with a grin: "Especially when they're not twist-off caps." He waved Hall and Castillo into wicker rockers and then sat down himself.
"My mother would tell me, Major, that a question like this is tacky, but I just have to ask it. You're really not what I expected. Where did a fair-skinned, blue-eyed guy like you get a name like Carlos Guillermo Castillo?"
"My father's family, sir, is Tex-Mex. My mother was German."
"I didn't mean to embarrass you," the president said.
"The question comes up frequently, sir," Castillo said. "Usually followed by, 'Are you adopted?,' to which I reply, sir, 'No, it's a question of genes.' "
The president chuckled, then grew serious.
"I guess the secretary has brought you up to speed on this," he said.
"Yes, sir, he has."
"What did he tell you?" the president asked.
Castillo's somewhat bushy left eyebrow rose momentarily as he visibly gathered his thoughts.
"As I understood the secretary, Mr. President," Castillo began, "a Boeing 727 which had been parked at the Luanda, Angola, airfield for fourteen months took off without clearance on 23 May and hasn't been seen since. The incident is being investigated by just about all of our intelligence agencies, none of which has come up with anything about where the aircraft is or what happened to it. The secretary, sir, led me to believe that he wants me to conduct an investigation:"
" I want you to conduct an investigation," the president interrupted.
"Yes, sir. The purpose of my investigation would be to serve as sort of a check on the investigations of the various agencies involved:"
"What I'd like to know," the president said, with a dry smile on his face and in his voice, "is what did they know, and when did they know it?' "
Secretary Hall chuckled.
"There is nothing to suggest," the president said, "that any of the agencies looking into the 727 gone missing have either done anything they shouldn't have or not done something they should have. Or that anyone suspects they will in the future. You should have that clear in your mind from the beginning."
"Yes, sir."
"On the other hand," the president went on, "I can't help but have in mind that a highly placed officer in the agency who was in the pay of the Russians for years was not even suspected of doing anything wrong-despite his living a lifestyle he could obviously not support on his CIA pay-until, against considerable resistance from the agency bureaucracy, an investigation was launched. You're familiar with that story?"
"Yes, sir, I am."
"And then-it came far too belatedly to light-the FBI had a highly placed officer in charge of counterintelligence who had taken a million dollars from the Russians in exchange for information that led to the deaths of people we had working for us in Moscow and elsewhere."
"Yes, sir. I know that story, too."
"That's what the agency would call the worst possible scenario," the president went on. "But there is another scenario-scenarios-that, while falling short of moles actually in the pay of a foreign intelligence service, can do just as much harm to the country as a mole can do. Are you following me, Major?"
"I hope so, sir."
"Intelligence-as you probably are well aware-is too often colored, or maybe diluted or poisoned, I learned, by three factors. I'm not sure which is worst. One of them is interagency rivalry, making their agency look good and another look bad. Another is to send up intelligence that they believe is what their superiors want to hear, or, the reverse, not sending up intelligence that they think their superiors don't want to hear. And yet another is an unwillingness to admit failure. You understand this, I'm sure. You must have seen examples yourself."
"Yes, sir, I have."
"Matt: Secretary Hall and I," the president said, "are agreed that in the intelligence community there is too much of a tendency to rely on what the other fellow has to say. I mean, in the absence of anything specific, the CIA will go with what the FBI tells them, or the ONI on what the DIA has developed. You're still with me?"
"Yes, sir."
"Some of that, obviously, has to do with funding. Funding is finite. One agency feels that if another agency has come up with something, there's no sense in duplicating the effort, which means spending money. That's just human nature."
"Yes, sir, I understand."
"And then Secretary Hall came up with the idea that one way to have a look at what's really going on in the field would be to have a quiet look at an active case where more than one agency-the more, the better-is involved. This gone-missing airplane is a case where not just two or three agencies but most of them are involved. I don't have to get into that with you, do I, Major? The jealously guarded turf of the various agencies?"
"No, sir. I'm familiar with the Statements of Mission."
"Okay," the president said. "In the case of this missing 727 airplane, the agency has primary responsibility. But the State Department has been told to find out what they can. And the Defense Intelligence Agency. And DHS, because one scenario is that the plane was stolen for use as a flying bomb against a target in this country. There is not much credence being placed in that story, but the fact is we just don't know. What we do know is that we cannot afford to allow it-or any other act of terrorism-to happen again. And certainly not as a result of interagency squabbling: or one agency deciding it doesn't want to spend money because it (a) would be duplication and (b) could be more profitably spent on something else.