"Thank you, Washington Center," Fernando said, and switched frequencies. "Reagan approach control, Lear Five-Zero-Seven-Five."
"Zero-Seven-Five, Reagan. We have you on radar. Maintain current heading, airspeed, and rate of descent. Report when at five thousand feet."
"Reagan, Zero-Seven-Five understands maintain airspeed, heading, and rate of descent, reporting when at five thousand."
Fernando turned to Torine, who was in the pilot's seat-Castillo was now kneeling between them-and announced, "Now that, gentlemen, is the way a real pilot does it. He calls somebody important in Washington and makes sure he has a landing clearance before he takes off, thus ensuring-"
"Lear Zero-Seven-Five, Reagan approach control."
"What now?" Fernando wondered aloud.
"We have a saying in the Air Force, Fernando," Torine said. "Counteth not thy chickens until the eggs hatcheth."
"Reagan, Zero-Seven-Five," Fernando replied after keying the TRANSMIT button.
"Zero-Seven-Five, in-flight advisory. Be advised that U.S. Air Force C-37A Tail Number Zero-Four-Seven- that's a Gulfstream-entered United States airspace at one five past the hour."
Castillo had a sudden mental image of Special Agent Schneider wrapped in white sheets and bandages lying on the hospital configuration bed in the Gulfstream. His throat was suddenly tight and his eyes watered. He turned so that no one would see.
"Reagan," Fernando said. "Zero-Seven-Five acknowledges in-flight advisory. Furthermore, Zero-Seven-Five is at five thousand. I have the field in sight."
"Lear Zero-Seven-Five, change to Reagan tower, 119.1, at this time."
"Lear Zero-Seven-Five, roger."
Fernando switched frequencies. "Reagan tower, Lear Zero-Seven-Five, over."
"Reagan National clears Lear Zero-Seven-Five as number two to land, after the Delta 737 on Final."
XIV
[ONE] Office of the Secretary Department of Homeland Security Nebraska Avenue Complex Washington, D.C. 0925 26 July 2005 Major H. Richard Miller, Jr., was sitting behind Major C. G. Castillo's desk when Castillo, Torine, and Lopez walked in. Miller was wearing civilian clothing, a single-breasted, nearly black suit. His left leg was encased in a thick white cast from his toes to well past his knee. His toes peeked out the bottom of the cast, which was resting on the desk.
"Forgive me for not rising," Miller said. "I honestly try to be humble, but it is very difficult for someone of my accomplishments."
Castillo shook his head. "How's the leg?"
"Let me ask you a question first," Miller said. "Dare I hope to have the honor of serving in some humble capacity within the Office of Organizational Analysis?"
"Why not?" Castillo replied.
"In that case, Chief," Miller said, "how does it look? As if I am about to run the four-hundred-meter hurdles?"
"What we should do, Colonel," Castillo said to Torine, "is hold him down and paint those ugly toenails flaming red, and then listen to him trying to explain that he really likes girls."
"Speaking of the gentle sex," Miller said, "Jack Britton called from MacDill about ten minutes ago. He said the Gulfstream was about to take off for Philadelphia about five minutes ago. Quote, Betty is resting comfortably, and the pilot estimates Philadelphia at eleven-thirty, end quote."
Miller saw Castillo's face, and when he spoke again, his tone of voice was that of a concerned friend. "I'm really sorry about that, Charley."
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.