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“This operation has to be done quietly, Scotty, you understand? ”
“Yes, sir, I do.”
“Staging out of where?” General McFadden said. “Hurlburt? ”
“Yes, sir. Was that General McFadden?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Sir, I’d appreciate any help you could provide about someplace to sit down the C-17.”
“I’m working on it, Scotty. The CIA has someone—as we speak—confirming that a field about fifty miles from Zandery is usable. Between the CIA and the DIA, we should have confirmation shortly.”
“Thank you, sir,” General McNab said.
“Scotty, how long would it take you to get an adequate team of your people and the Little Birds to Hurlburt?”
“Not long at all, sir.”
“How much is ‘Not long at all’ in hours and minutes, Scotty?” Naylor asked. There was a tone of impatience in his voice.
“As a matter of fact, sir, as we speak I’m in the shade of a C-17’s wing, watching the Gulf of Mexico lap on the sandy beaches of Hurlburt.”
“Do I understand you to say, General,” Naylor asked, icily, “that you are at Hurlburt Field?”
“Yes, sir. With six Little Birds and thirty stalwart special operators, waiting for your order to go.”
“Who authorized you to go to Hurlburt, General?” Naylor asked, coldly furious.
“Mr. Castillo suggested that if I organized the team and brought it to Hurlburt, it would save a good deal of time, sir. I could not fault his reasoning, sir, and acted accordingly.”
“You are referring to Major Castillo, General?”
“In a way, sir. But I have been calling him ‘Mister.’ That seemed appropriate, inasmuch as he was at Fort Bragg as the personal representative of the president, sir. And in civilian clothing.”
“You’re a goddamned lie
utenant general, Scotty!” Naylor exploded. “And you don’t take goddamned ‘suggestions’ from a goddamned major! And you goddamn well know it!”
“With all respect, sir, he’s not functioning as a major. The national security advisor made it quite clear on the telephone that he was coming to Bragg as the personal representative of the commander in chief, sir, and, as I said, sir, I have acted accordingly.”
Naylor threw his hands up in outrage and disgust and looked around the room. The officers and civilians at the conference table were looking anywhere but at him. Sergeant Major Suggins was standing just inside the Phone Booth making signs with his hands, moving them between a gesture of prayer and a gesture meaning cool off.
Naylor tried to collect himself, thinking, When you are angry, you make bad decisions in direct proportion to the level of your anger.
You cannot afford to make a decision now you will regret later.
That sonofabitch! I’ll nail his and Charley’s balls to the wall when this is over!
“General McNab,” General Naylor ordered, “maintain your readiness to place this operation in action on my order. And only on my order.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And when this is over, you, Major Castillo, and I have a good deal to talk over.”
“Yes, sir.”
Naylor looked around the table.
