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“And that means?”
“When the subject of an LDND order is located by any agency, that agency notifies the agency that issued the order—in this case, the Secret Service—where and under what circumstances the subject was located. In this case, as I said, Immigration yesterday afternoon notified the Secret Service that Alexander Darby had arrived in Miami on a flight from Panama.”
“Cut to the chase, Andrews. And what did Darby have to say about Castillo and the Russians?”
“Nothing, sir.”
“He was arrested, right? He’s in custody?”
“No, sir.”
“You’re telling me the Immigration people had this guy, and then he got away? My God!”
“Sir, there never has been a warrant out on Mr. Darby—just the LDND order.”
“What’s the point in locating somebody and then not arresting him?”
“Sir, even if there is an arrest warrant,” the attorney general explained, “and in this case no warrant has been issued, it’s sometimes useful to see where the subject goes, and to whom he talks.”
“Well, where did Darby go, and who did he talk to?”
“He flew here, sir, into Reagan National,” Andrews said. “By that time, the Secret Service was on him, and they followed him to a residence at 7200 West Boulevard Drive in Alexandria. That site, sir, was already under Secret Service surveillance. It has been since the LDND order was issued. It is owned by Colonel Castillo.”
“Don’t tell me Castillo has been
there, right under the nose of the Secret Service, all the time?”
“No, sir. We don’t believe that he is.”
“So, when you finally found out where this Darby character is, and who he was talking to, what did he say when you asked him where Castillo and the Russians are?”
“What happened at that point,” Andrews began, “was that Supervisory Special Agent McGuire—”
“I know Tom,” the President interrupted. “Good man, if it’s the same guy. Used to be on the presidential protection detail, right?”
“Yes, sir. That’s the man. Sir, McGuire notified me about Darby’s location, and first thing this morning, a minute or two after seven, I was at the door—”
“He notified you last night! Why didn’t you go over there last night?” the President demanded.
“It was after midnight, Mr. President.”
“So what?”
“Perhaps you’re right, Mr. President. I deferred to Mr. McGuire’s judgment. Now I realize that was probably a mistake, too.”
“Okay, so there you were—was McGuire with you . . . ?”
“Yes, sir.”
“... at the door of this house at seven in the morning. Then what happened?”
“At first, Mr. President, they wouldn’t even let us in. They had a lawyer, a Japanese gentleman, who said his name was Yung—”
“Sir,” the attorney general interjected, “I think there is a very good chance that this lawyer is a former FBI special agent named David W. Yung, Jr., who is also under a LDND order. And he’s of Chinese, not Japanese, ancestry—”
“Why are we looking for this ex-FBI agent-slash-lawyer of some kind of Oriental ancestry?” the President interrupted. “And what’s that got to do with anything?”
“He was one of Castillo’s men in OOA, Mr. President,” the attorney general said.
