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“Do you know who I am?” Montvale asked.
“Yes, sir. We’ve spoken before. You’re Ambassador Montvale, the director—”
“‘Yes, sir’ would have been sufficient,” Montvale interrupted him. “Now, there’s two ways we can deal with Colonel Castillo’s request. You can give him whatever he asks for. Or I will call the DCI and in a couple of minutes he will call you and tell you to give the colonel whatever he asks for. What would you like to do?”
“Your permission is all I need, Mr. Ambassador,” Franklin said.
“Thank you, Mr. Franklin. Nice to talk to you.”
Castillo looked at Franklin and then waited until Franklin had left the small room and closed the door before going on.
“Elvis has left the theater, Mr. Ambassador,” he said.
He had just enough time to decide That was a dumb thing to say when he heard Montvale laugh.
“I told you, Charley, I can be useful,” he said. “If I had had to call John Powell, then the DCI would want to know why you wanted his weapons.”
“I told you I was going to Budapest to see if I can get my source to release me from my promise not to pass along to anyone what he gave me. When I got here, I learned that an attempt to kidnap him had been made. I want to keep him alive. I can’t do that without a weapon.”
“You can protect him yourself, you think?”
“I’ve already started getting help. Local help.”
“How long is this going to take? Getting your source to release you—or refuse to release you—from your promise?”
“Several days, probably.”
“You want me to tell Mr. Franklin to help you protect this chap?”
“I think that would draw attention I’d rather not have to my source. But thank you.”
“If you change your mind, let me know.”
“Yes, sir, I will. Thank you.”
“Tell me about explosive suitcases in Pennsylvania.”
“I told Major Miller to tell you about that. Didn’t he?”
“He didn’t seem to think that a possible nuclear device in a briefcase was very important.”
“Sir, he didn’t think it was credible. Neither did the chief of counterterrorism of the Philadelphia Police Department. That’s not the same thing as saying they don’t think the threat of a small nuclear device is important.”
“You sent people up there to look into it,” Montvale challenged.
“The reason I sent them up there was to see where the AALs got the money to buy a farm…”
“The what?”
“AALs. That’s what the Philly cops call the Muslim brothers of the Aari-Teg mosque. It stands for ‘African American Lunatics.’”
“Not only is that politically incorrect but, as I recall, those lunatics were involved in the theft of the 727.”
“Yes, sir, they were, and that’s why the Philly cops and the Secret Service—the Secret Service at my request—are keeping an eye on them. I’d like to find out what their connection with the people who stole the 727 was—is.”
“And you think you can investigate this matter better than the FBI?”
“I think the Secret Service agent I sent up there—he was an undercover cop in the mosque for several years—can. Yes, sir. I think that all FBI involvement would do is tip them off that we’re watching them. I hope you don’t feel compelled to bring the FBI in.”
