Is this damn place designed for dwarfs?
Castillo looked at the handset. The AFC logo was discreetly molded into the plastic. He also saw that there was a thin soft black cushion on the earpiece.
Not for comfort. That's to muffle the incoming voice. Bradley won't be able to hear what Miller's saying, but needs to.
"Put it on speaker, Les," Castillo said, as he put the handset to his ear.
"Aye, aye, sir," Bradley said, and when he had pushed the appropriate button, went to the corridor wall and leaned on it.
It was either that or sit on my bed.
"Hello?" Castillo said into the handset.
"Where the hell have you been, Charley?" Major Richard Miller announced. "I've been trying to raise you for two hours."
"What's up?" Castillo replied, and then hurriedly added: "Are we secure?"
"According to my indicators we are."
"Okay, so what's so important?"
"Now you've got me worried, Charley. I therefore will talk in tongues. Four of the birds managed to land where they were going without sinking it. The reason I know this…Oh, to hell with it. I think this may damned well be blown anyway."
"What may be damned well blown?"
"The reason I know they're on the carrier is because a bluesuit-a commander-showed up here to personally deliver to you an Info Copy of an Urgent from the captain to the CNO. It took me five minutes to get the bastard to give it to me."
"What did it say?"
There was a rattling at the door to the hotel room, and it suddenly swung open.
"What the hell?" Castillo said, and then, "Hold one, Dick."
Castillo saw that the manager of the hotel was holding the door open for Pevsner and Janos.
"I don't recall inviting you up here," Castillo said angrily, in Russian.
"We have to talk, friend Charley," Pevsner said, matter-of-factly, also in Russian.
"It won't wait until after dinner?"
Pevsner shook his head, thanked the manager in Spanish, then closed the door on him. He turned to Castillo and, switching back to Russian, asked, "Do you have a weapon?"
"No, but Bradley does," Castillo said, and pointed at Corporal Bradley.
Bradley held his M1911A1.45 pistol in both hands, its hammer back and the muzzle aimed at the floor at Janos's and Pesvner's feet.
He didn't understand a word of the Russian, but he saw the look on my face, and he's taking no chances.
Neither is Max. He's on his feet and inching toward Pevsner and Janos.
"That's the pistol, Janos," Castillo said, almost conversationally, "that Bradley used to take down Colonel Komogorov in the hotel garage in Pilar after Komogorov put a bullet in you."
"We mean you no harm, friend Charley!" Pevsner said.
For some reason, I don't think that tone of anguish is phony.
"Put it away, Lester," Castillo ordered in English. He switched to Hungarian-"Down, Max!"-and then to Russian. "People who come barging into my room are likely to get shot. You might want to write that down, Alek."
"We came to make sure you had a gun in order to do just that," Pevsner said. "Janos, give it him."
Janos-very carefully, using his thumb and index finger-took what looked like a Model 1911 Colt pistol from his jacket's inside pocket and handed it to Castillo.
"That's an Argentine copy of your.45," Pevsner said. "Almost identical. A Ballester Molina stolen, I'm told, from the Argentine Army ten years ago."
In almost a Pavlovian act, Castillo ejected the magazine and worked the pistol's slide. A cartridge flew through the air and landed on the bed. Castillo picked it up, put it in the magazine, then put the magazine back in the pistol and dropped the hammer.
"What the hell is going on there, Charley?" Major Richard Miller's voice demanded over the speaker circuit.
"Turn the speaker off, Lester," Castillo ordered, and picked up the handset.
Pevsner looked as if he was going to leave the room.
Oh, what the hell!
"Stay, Alek," Castillo said.
He'll be able to hear only one side of the conversation.
And he already knows I work for the President.
Castillo spoke into the handset: "Excuse the interruption, Richard. The maid wanted to turn down the bed. You were saying?"
"I was about to read the message the bluesuit didn't want to give me."
"Please do."
"Skipping the address crap at the top…'(1) Pursuant to verbal order issued by DepSecNav to undersigned in telecon 1530 6 September 2005, four US Army HU1D rotary-wing aircraft were permitted to land aboard USS Ronald Reagan at 1305 10 September 2005.
"'(2) Senior officer among them, who states he is a US Army major but declines to further identify himself with identity card or similar document, also has refused to inform the undersigned of the nature of his mission, stating it is classified Top Secret Presidential, and neither the undersigned nor RADM Jacoby, USN, the Task Force Commander, is authorized access to such information.'"
"Good for him," Castillo said.
"It gets better," Miller replied. "'(3) US Army major was denied permission by undersigned to communicate with US Army LtCol Costello of Dept of Homeland Security using a non-standard satellite radio he brought aboard. He said LtCol Costello could quote clarify unquote the situation. He refused use of Reagan's communication services, stating he could not be sure of their encryption capabilities.
"'(4) US Army major has also refused inspection of cargo aboard helicopters, again citing classification of Top Secret Presidential.'"
"And, again, good for him," Castillo said. "Who screwed up and didn't clue the Navy in on what's happening?"
"I'm not finished," Miller said. "Get this: "'(5) Helicopters and their crews are presently on flight deck in what amounts to a standoff between members of my crew and the Army personnel."
"Oh, shit!" Castillo said.
"Continuing right along," Miller replied, "'(6) Further action was not taken because the US Army personnel are obviously American and they pose no threat to USS Ronald Reagan that cannot be dealt with.
"'(7) Urgently and respectfully request clarification of this situation and existing orders. It is suggested that contacting LtCol Costello, only, might be useful.' That's why the bluesuit didn't even want to give me this."
"Jesus Christ!" Castillo said.
"And we conclude with, '(8) USS Ronald Reagan proceeding.' The signature is 'Kenton, Captain USN, Captain, USS Ronald Reagan' and below that it says, 'Rear Admiral K. G. Jacoby, USN, concurs.'"
"What did Montvale have to say?"
"That's why I called you, Charley. I can't get through to Montvale."
"What do you mean you can't get through to him?"
"Your buddy Truman Ellsworth, who answers his line, says he's not available."
"He does?" Castillo said, coldly. "Get me the White House switchboard."
He saw Pevsner's eyes light up when he heard "White House."
Miller said, "Before you charge off in righteous indignation, would you be interested in hearing my probably somewhat paranoid assessment of the situation?"
"As long as it doesn't take longer than sixty seconds."
"What happened, I submit, is that General McNab went to the secretary of Defense and told him he had to move the Hueys down there black, under the authority of the Presidential Finding. So far, so good, as the secretary of Defense knows about the Finding and that he's being told, not asked. So the secretary of Defense got on the horn to the secretary of the Navy and told him to do it." He paused. "I don't know if the secretary of the Navy knows about the Finding. Do you?"
"No."
"Okay," Miller said. "I don't think he does, but it doesn't really matter. I'm pretty sure that the deputy secretary of the Navy doesn't. Agree?"
"He probably doesn't."
"The Urgent says the bluesuit captain got his orders to land the Hueys on his ship from the deputy on the phone. I think it's very reasonable to assume the bluesuit captain asked the deputy what the hell was going on, and the deputy couldn't tell him, because he didn't know any more than he was told, which was essentially, just do it, explanation to follow."