"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."
Hall pushed the speakerphone button again.
"Good morning, Mark," Hall said cordially. "How are you?"
"What can I do for you, Matt?"
"You've seen the Presidential Finding vis-a-vis the Masterson assassination, right?" Hall asked, ignoring Schmidt's abruptness.
"As a matter of fact, no."
"Well, hell. That makes this a little difficult, Mark. Obviously I can't talk about it if you haven't seen it. So forget I mentioned it. Just take this as a routine request for information. If you don't mind a suggestion, you might ask the attorney general what's new."
"What sort of information do you need, Matt?" Schmidt said, his voice betraying his annoyance.
"Would it be easier for you if I called the attorney general? I don't want to put you on a spot."
"What information do you need, Matt?"
"You have an agent in the embassy in Montevideo. David William Yung, Junior. He's supposed to be working on money laundering. What I need to know is what he's really doing down there."
"What makes you so sure he's not doing what he says he's doing?"
"We're back to that area I can't talk about," Hall said. "Are you sure you don't want me to go to the attorney general with this? I know he's in the loop, and I'm surprised that you're not."
"I'll look into it, Matt," Schmidt said, "and get back to you."
"I need this information yesterday, Mark," Hall said. "So I have to ask, how long do you think it will take for you to get back to me?"
"I'll get back to you just as soon as I can. Probably this morning."
"I appreciate that, Mark. Thank you."
"Anytime, Matt."
Hall pushed the button, breaking the connection.
"See how it's done?" he asked. "I'll bet you two dollars to a doughnut that Schmidt is already trying to get the attorney general on the horn. The attorney general will tell him about the finding, and that he has to go along with it. Which will also make the point that I knew about it before he did, suggesting he's not as important as he likes to think he is."
"It's childish, isn't it?"
"Absolutely, but that's the way things work," Hall said. "Now that I've annoyed him, is there anybody else you'd like me to annoy?"
"Sir, when he calls back, could you ask him to contact the FBI people in Paris-and in Vienna, come to think of it-and ask them to give me whatever I need?"
"I will tell him that the chief of the Office of Organizational Analysis wants to make sure they know that when they are contacted, they will make any information they have on any subject available to him, and that they will probably be contacted by a man named Castillo." He paused, and then went on. "And I will contact Ambassador Montvale and tell him to do essentially the same thing vis-a-vis his CIA station chiefs in Paris and Vienna. And Montevideo, too, if you'd like."
"Thank you. It would probably be a good idea when you speak with Director Schmidt to ask him to tell the FBI in Montevideo to give me what I ask for."
Hall nodded his agreement.
"Anything else, Charley?"
"I can't think of anything else, sir."
"Let me run this past you," Hall said. "You're going to need someone to handle your paperwork, someone who knows her way around Washington. What would you think about me asking Agnes Forbison if she'd like to work with you?"
"I could really use her."
"I'll have a word with her as soon as I can," Hall said. [THREE] Over Wilmington, Delaware 1225 26 July 2005 They had been in the air only a few minutes when Castillo sensed the Lear had changed altitude from climbing-to-cruise-altitude to descent. There was only one reason he could think of for that; they were about to land.
Oh, shit, that's all I need! Red lights blinking on the panel! The goddamn bird is broke!
He got out of his seat, walked to the cockpit, and dropped to his knees between the pilot's and copilot's seats.
"What's going on?"
Fernando, who was in the left seat, looked over his shoulder.
"Please return to your seat, sir, and don't interfere with the flight crew in the performance of their duties."
"What's wrong with the goddamn airplane?"
Colonel Torine took pity on him.
"You really didn't want to go to Paris without saying goodbye to your girlfriend, did you, Charley?"
Castillo didn't reply.
"Does it make any real difference if we get to Paris at four in the morning, or five?" Torine went on. "I'll top off the tanks, get us something to eat en route, get the weather, and file the flight plan to Gander while the Secret Service runs you back and forth to the hospital."
When Castillo didn't reply to that, either, at least partially because he didn't trust himself to speak with the enormous lump in his throat, Torine went on: "Tom McGuire called and set it up."
Castillo laid a hand on Torine's shoulder, and then got off his knees and went back to his seat. [FOUR] Department of Oral and Maxillofacial Surgery Fifth Floor, Silverstein Pavilion Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania 3400 Spruce Street Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 1340 26 July 2005 As the Secret Service Yukon pulled up outside the hospital, the agent sitting beside the driver spoke into the microphone under his lapel.