He wants a favor. Madam Britton wants him to spend a little time at home. Maybe somebody is sick. Maybe somebody at the school wants a real cop for a teacher and he doesn’t want that.
“Something personal, Jack?” Castillo asked.
Britton visibly thought that over before replying, “Yeah, in a way. But, no, not really personal.”
“Something to do with what’s going on here?”
Britton nodded.
What the hell doesn’t he want Miller and McGuire to hear?
I can’t have that.
“Jack, let me tell you how we’re going to work around here,” Castillo said. “Or how we’re not going to work. Around here, I don’t want anyone to be in the dark about anything that’s going on.”
He swept his hand to indicate he meant everybody in the office, then added, “And that includes Mr. Forbison. I can’t see how we can work any other way.”
“Permission to speak, sir?” Miller asked.
Now, what the hell is the matter with him?
“If you’re being clever, Dick, now is not the time,” Castillo said.
“I’m asking if you’re open to a comment or a question?”
“As kit.”
“Does ‘anyone’ include Special Agent David William Yung, Jr.?” Miller asked, then looked at McGuire and explained, “When Charley told him he was sending him to Uruguay to keep the details of Lorimer’s bank accounts from becoming public knowledge, Yung had to think it over carefully.”
“Oh, shit!” McGuire said. “And that’s not the first time he’s had ‘reservations, ’ is it?”
“Say it out loud, Dick,” Castillo said.
“I think it’s only a matter of time before his conscience overwhelms him about the ‘irregular’ things you’re having him do and/or he really gets homesick for the purity of the FBI and decides to come clean,” Miller said.
He let that sink in, then finished, “And the more he knows, the more he will have to tell.”
“He’s right, Charley,” McGuire said. “There’s a Puritan streak in the FBI. They like to hire pure people. They start working on them at Quantico that the book is holy, that they have to go by it, and they keep it up afterward. Even before Dick brought it up, I wondered if Yung belonged in here. I’d say send him back to the FBI, but that would remind him even more that we are ignoring the book and he already knows too much to take the risk that he would confess all.”
“So, me sending him down there was a mistake?” Castillo asked.
“Not a mistake but risky,” McGuire said. “And who else could you have sent?”
“Well, I guess the thing to do is bring him back and sit on him after he makes sure that what we’ve done with Lorimer’s money doesn’t get out,” Castillo said. “The only comment I have is that I agree that Yung is…what? Highly moral? What’s wrong with that? And I think he would love nothing better than to go to somebody in the FBI and tell them what’s going on around here. But it is that morality that keeps him from doing that.”
“Run that past me again,” Miller said.
“You were here, Dick. I asked him if he had any mental reservations and he said—after thinking about it—that he didn’t. I think he meant that.”
?
??Keep your fingers crossed, Charley,” Miller said, doubtfully.
“But you’re right. We can’t afford to have him in the loop,” Castillo said. “We’ll tell him as little as possible.” He turned to Britton. “You’re in the loop, Jack. We all need to know what you have to say.”
Britton shrugged, then said, “Okay. This is one of those damned if you do, damned if you don’t things. I heard something in Philadelphia that is probably about as far off the wall as anything ever gets, that logic tells me to dismiss but which I thought I should pass on to you.”
“Let’s have it,” Castillo said.