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“You don’t know?” Beiderman snapped. “This little chat is becoming surreal, General!”
“Mr. Secretary, Major Miller was the assistant military attaché in Luanda when the aircraft was stolen. He was assigned to DIA, sir.”
“So?”
“He was also the CIA station chief there,” Withers said. “From which post he was relieved for cause by the DCI. When I was so informed, I relieved him of his attaché assignment and ordered him returned to Central Command.”
“I thought you said he worked for you in DIA?”
“It’s an administrative thing, sir.”
“Relieved for cause? What cause?”
Withers took another sheet of paper from his briefcase and read from it.
“ ‘A security breach of the most serious nature; insubordination; exceeding his lawful authority; and conduct unbecoming an officer and gentleman.’ I don’t know the specific details, Mr. Secretary. That’s what I got from the DCI . . .”
“The DCI himself? Or one of his ‘senior subordinates’?”
“The message was signed by the DCI himself, sir.”
“What the hell is the conduct unbecoming charge all about?”
“I believe Major Miller behaved inappropriately toward his immediate superior in a social situation, sir.”
“You mean he’s a fag?”
“His immediate superior is a female, sir.”
“And he was fucking her or just trying to fuck her? Which?”
General Withers looked uncomfortably toward the office door. Beiderman followed his gaze. Mrs. Teresa Slater was standing in, a half smile on her face, one eyebrow raised.
“Am I interrupting one of those man-to-man chats?” she asked.
Beiderman smiled at her.
“Answer the question, General,” he said.
“I believe the latter, Mr. Secretary,” General Withers said.
“The DCI is trying to hang this horny major of yours and the president sends him a letter of commendation— special delivery by helicopter—for ‘demonstrating wisdom normally expected only of officers of far senior grade and experience’? I’d love to know what the hell that’s all about.”
“I had ordered an investigatio
n into Major Miller’s behavior, sir. Before I received the president’s letter, I . . .”
“I think I’d hold off on that for a while, General,” Beiderman interrupted and then looked at Mrs. Salter. “Teresa?”
“Dr. Cohen is on the line, boss,” she said. “When I insisted on speaking to the president, they switched me to her.”
Beiderman snatched a telephone from its cradle.
“Natalie,” he began abruptly, “what the hell is going on?”
Secretary Beiderman was a great admirer of the national security advisor and he thought the feeling was at least partially reciprocated.
“The president’s not available at the moment,” Dr. Cohen said.
