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“Good talking to you, General,” Senator Frankenheimer said and hung up.
General McNab took the telephone from his ear, held it in his hand, glared at it, and said, “Sonofabitch!”
Then he looked at Lieutenant Castillo.
“Charley, this Irish sonofabitch with political connections is yours. I don’t know whether he’s just curious, or wants to sell us something, but I’ll bet it’s sell us something. ”
“Sir, what am I supposed to do with him?”
“I’ll buy the bastard lunch, but that’s all. Set that up at the club for one o’clock. Get him into the VIP quarters, in case he wants to spend the night. But keep him, as much as humanly possible, as far from me as you can. Take him on a walking tour of Smoke Bomb Hill. Take him to the museum. Take him for a chopper ride over scenic Fort Bragg. Anything. Just keep the sonofabitch away from me. Clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
Two vehicles were in attendance to the deputy commander of the Special Warfare Center outside the headquarters building. One was a glistening olive drab Chevrolet staff car, the other a Bell HU-1F helicopter, the paint of which was designed to be nonreflective.
The regular driver of the staff car, Sergeant Tom Fenny, was conversing with that day’s copilot of the Huey, a chief warrant officer whose name—Kilian, Robert—Castillo remembered only at the last second as he walked up to them.
Sergeant Fenny saluted as Castillo approached. Chief Warrant Officer Kilian, who was ten years older than Castillo, did not, which neither surprised nor offended Castillo.
“We’ve got to go pick up a VIP at Pope,” Castillo announced.
“You want me to bring the car over there?” Fenny asked.
Until that moment, Castillo had intended to meet Mr. Aloysius Francis Casey with the staff car.
I don’t think the general’s going to want the Huey.
If he does, with me at Pope, Kilian can’t—or, at least, shouldn’t—fly it alone.
I’ve got to occupy Mr. Aloysius Francis Casey until lunch; that’s almost two hours.
The general said, “Take him for a chopper ride.”
Maybe he won’t like that suggestion.
Should I ask the general if I should use the chopper?
“Goddammit, Castillo. Tattoo NEVER LET ANYTHING GET IN THE WAY OF YOUR MISSION! on your forehead!
“I already told you once, don’t disturb me unless you get a flash they just nuked Washington!”
“Yeah, Tommy, bring the car over there,” Lieutenant Castillo ordered and then looked at Kilian. “Are the rubber bands all wound up, Mr. Kilian?”
“Is this VIP a civilian?”
“Yeah.”
“You need written authority, Lieutenant, to haul civilians. ”
“There is an exception to every rule.”
Parking on the tarmac directly in front of the base operations building at Pope Air Force Base is reserved for colonels and up and Pope ground control was unhappy when Castillo requested permission to park the Huey there.
“You have a Code Six aboard, right?”
“I will be picking up a VIP.”
“Pope Ground clears Army Six-Two-Two to the Base Operations VIP area.”
