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The ninth was the only one Lieutenant Colonel Castillo, himself a military aviator with a good deal of experience, felt he more or less understood.
But he was going to have to try to understand the strengths and limitations of the various things Torine was proposing. He was going to have to show them to the President, and he didn't want to look or sound like a goddamn fool when inevitably the President asked him a question and he didn't have the answer.
He collected everything that Torine had sent him, plus the draft of the report Two-Gun Yung had prepared from his own notes and from what had come from Fulda and what he'd gotten from Dmitri and Svetlana. And he went to his old desk in his old bedroom, where he hoped he would have a little privacy.
Yung's draft would have to be modified when Yung had a chance to review what had just started coming in from Budapest--Delchamps had finally shown up there--but Yung had put it to him that now was the time to have "a quick look" to make sure it was what he wanted, rather than have him continue "to break his ass on what might well be a waste of everybody's time."
He had just made himself comfortable at his old desk and poured himself a cup of coffee when Svetlana came into the room. He was convinced he'd pissed her off by telling her that he didn't need help or company right now, thank you very much.
She simply replied, "Joel Isaacson is on the radio."
[TEN]
1150 13 January 2006
The countdown on his laptop read 36:58 when Castillo sat down at the desk and reached for the AFC handset.
"C. G. Castillo."
Sexy Susan said: "I have Colonel Castillo for you, Mr. Isaacson."
I don't have to be Sherlock Holmes to figure out this has something to do with the President, Joel having been in charge of his Security Detail.
Confirmation of that came immediately when Isaacson began the conversation by announcing, "Charley, I had a call five minutes ago from the President."
Castillo waited for him to go on.
"He wanted to know if I knew where you were," Isaacson said. "When I told him I honestly didn't know, he asked if I could find you. I said--I don't lie to the President, Charley--'I think I can, Mr. President.'
"To which he replied, 'Do so, Joel. If you can, tell him to call me. If you can't, call me back within ten minutes.'
"To which I replied, 'Yes, Mr. President.' He hung up. I then called Jack Doherty, who said to get on the AFC. Jack is not capable of lying to the President, either, even secondhan
d."
"I understand, Joel. I'm sorry you got in the middle of this."
"So am I, Charley. What do I tell him?"
"You won't have to tell him anything. I'll call right now."
"White House."
"C. G. Castillo for the President on a secure line, please."
"Hold one, Colonel, please. I have special instructions . . ."
What "special instructions"?
"The President's private line," an executive secretary to the President answered.
Private line?
The one in what he calls his working office?
"Colonel Castillo for the President, please."
"Colonel, the President is in a do-not-disturb conference in the Oval Office. If you will kindly give me a second--"
