Black Ops

data, are cut from the same cloth as Mrs. Davies.”

“Thank you for sharing that with me, Colonel,” Powell replied again with more than a hint of sarcasm. “I will indeed take it under consideration.”

“Nice to talk to you, Mr. Powell,” Castillo said.

“Did you ever hear the old Russian proverb, Colonel, that people who dig their own graves usually are buried in them?”

“I think you just made that up,” Castillo said.

“I’ll get back to you later, Jack,” Montvale said.

“I think that would be a good idea, Mr. Ambassador.”

Montvale’s face showed he didn’t know what to do with the telephone. Ambassador Silvio took it from him and said into the handset, “Break it down, please.”

“Satisfied, Castillo?” Montvale asked.

“Not really. With all the money we spend on the CIA, it seems to me they ought to be able to find their ass with only one hand, let alone both.”

“As a matter of curiosity, why did you go out of your way to insult the DCI?”

“What’s chiseled there in stone on the wall of the lobby at Langley? ‘You shall know the truth and the truth shall make you free’? If hearing the truth insults the DCI, maybe he should look for other work.”

“Okay. I’ve had enough. I am now going to tell you what’s happened, and what’s going to happen.”

“Correction: What you would like to think is going to happen,” Castillo said. “Unless I hear from the President to the contrary, I’m not subject to your orders.”

“Do me the courtesy of hearing me out,” Montvale said.

Castillo met his eyes, then shrugged, then leaned back in his armchair and relit his cigar. “I’m listening.”

“A board of medical officers convened at the Walter Reed Army Medical Center has examined your case and determined that the stress of your duties has rendered you psychologically unfit for active service, and therefore decided that you will be medically retired as of 1 February—”

“What the hell!” Castillo said, sitting upright.

Montvale held out his hand, palm out, as a Wait sign.

“Hear me out,” he repeated, then went on: “The degree of psychological damage you have suffered in the line of duty has been determined to be twenty-five percent. You will thus receive a disability pension of twenty-five percent of your base pay. There has been some talk that at your retirement ceremony you will be awarded the Distinguished Service Medal.

“Turning to the retirement ceremony—at which Major Miller will also be medically retired and may be decorated with the Legion of Merit—it will be the regular monthly retirement ceremony at the Army Aviation Center, Fort Rucker, Alabama. At this time, it is currently planned that General Allan Naylor will preside.

“Major Miller has been placed on terminal leave. You are also on terminal leave—or will be, as soon as you sign the papers Colonel Remley has brought with him.

“I will be present at your retirement ceremony, as will Mr. C. Harry Whelan of The Washington Post, and DCI Powell. On the flight down, Mr. Powell will tell Mr. Whelan, in the strictest confidence, that there is absolutely nothing to the story Mrs. Davies has told him that you interfered with the CIA operation to turn Colonel Berezovsky and Lieutenant Colonel Alekseeva. And that the Russian defectors are—and always have been—in CIA hands.

“If it seems to DCI Powell to be the appropriate thing to do—and as a proof of the high regard the CIA holds for Mr. Whelan, as a patriotic American—he will ask my permission to take Mr. Whelan, immediately on our return to Washington, to the CIA safe house in Maryland where Berezovsky and Alekseeva are being interrogated. I will, as proof of my own regard for Mr. Whelan’s patriotism and high standing in journalism, grant my permission.

“Mr. Whelan will thus have proof of what I told him the first time you got us in a mess like this, that Mrs. Davies is a disgruntled former CIA employee who doesn’t know what she’s talking about. You, rather than running some super-secret operation of the President, are in fact a distinguished warrior who has been pushed beyond his limits and were assigned to an innocuous little agency in the Department of Homeland Security while the psychiatrists and psychologists at Walter Reed tried to help you regain your mental stability. Lamentably, they failed, and Mr. Whelan will see you retired with flags flying, bands playing, and a new medal to add to your already impressive display.”

He paused and met Castillo’s eyes as all that sank in.

“Getting the picture, Castillo?”

Castillo leaned back in his chair and puffed his cigar. “I’ve got it.”

“All you have to do now is sign the papers Colonel Remley has for you and get the Russians to the airport, and we can put this all behind us.”

Castillo pointed with his cigar to the secure telephone. “There’s the phone. Call the President.”

“Why should I do that?”

“Because he doesn’t know about this. Does he?”

Montvale shrugged, then confessed: “No. I want to protect him as much as possible from the mess you have caused.”

“You’re going to present him with a fait accompli?”

“That’s the idea.”

“Bad idea,” Castillo said. “Now, is it my turn to tell you what’s not going to happen and what is—”

“You don’t have any choice here, Castillo, for Christ’s sake!”

“Wrong again.”

Montvale glowered at him but said nothing. He started to stand.

“You want to hear me out?” Castillo asked.

Montvale looked at him, then took his seat. “If you insist.”

Castillo puffed his cigar as he gathered his thoughts.

He exhaled, then said: “First of all, the Russians are not going to get on your airplane to be flown to a CIA safe house in Maryland. I don’t think I could talk them into that if I wanted to, and I don’t. Second, I have no intention of signing anything Colonel Remley may have in his briefcase. That’s the ‘what’s not going to happen’ part of my scenario.

“The second part, ‘what is going to happen,’ is that—with or without your help—I’m going to the Democratic Republic of the Congo to verify what I’ve been told is going on there.”

“You’re out of your mind!”

“And when I have proof of that, I’m going to take that factory out myself, and if I can’t do that, lay the proof on the President’s desk and tell him I did what I did because the CIA refused—again—to believe what I told them.”

“You know I can’t permit you to do anything like that,” Montvale said.

“And you know you can’t stop me,” Castillo said. “So here is a possible compromise that should cover most of the bases:

“First, we get Dick Miller on the first plane down here. I need somebody to help me fly the Gulfstream, as Colonel Torine and Captain Sparkman are going to return to Washington with you. Another proof for you to show your pal the journalist that I was not running OOA—Torine is a full-bird colonel; I’m a lowly lieutenant colonel.

“Jack Doherty of the FBI is now in Vienna with Dave Yung. They are no longer needed there, as I have turned up another very reliable source of information vis-a-vis who assassinated the Kuhls and Friedler . . .”

“Your new Russian friends, obviously,” Montvale said sarcastically.

“. . . and tried to kill Duffy and the Brittons. When all the t’s are crossed and all the i’s dotted, I will turn that information over to you.

“I spoke with Doherty and Yung last night. Yung’s resignation from the FBI will be in the mail this morning. So he will not be available to anyone, like Whelan, to be questioned.

“Doherty, on the other hand, wants to return to the J. Edgar Hoover Building. So he’s on his way to Washington, where, if Whelan finds him, he can tell Whelan that he was on temporary duty with the OOA, analyzing the operations of Homeland Security, had always worked for Torine, and knows almost nothing about me except that he heard I wasn’t playing with a full deck.

“Alex Darby and Edgar Delchamps are going to retire from the agency and won’t be available. Jack Britton