The Hunters (Presidential Agent 3)

“Yes, sir. I guess we will,” Castillo said.

“Before this gets out of hand, gentlemen,” General Naylor said, “I’m going to say that neither one of you wants this disagreement to go any further.”

“Nothing is going to get out of hand, thank you very much, General,” Montvale said.

“Good,” Naylor said, “because it would not be in the best interests of the country—or either of you—if it did.”

Montvale looked icily at him.

“Frankly, General, I was hoping that you would help me reason with Major Castillo, help him to understand where he fits into the system.”

“It’s now Colonel Castillo, Mr. Ambassador,” Naylor said.

“Lieutenant colonel, I believe,” Montvale said. “Like Lieutenant Colonel Oliver North, who was also a junior officer given more authority than he was equipped to handle. You remember Lieutenant Colonel North, don’t you, General?”

“I don’t have the feeling, Mr. Ambassador,” Naylor said, “that the President thinks he has given Colonel Castillo more authority than he can handle. Do you?”

Montvale didn’t respond.

“Let me suggest a scenario, Mr. Ambassador,” Naylor said, glancing around the lounge, then, satisfied no one was trying to follow their conversation, continued in a lower voice: “This dispute comes before the President. That would force him to choose between you two. From what I have seen of the President, he doesn’t like to be forced to do anything.”

“Nevertheless…”

“Obviously,” Naylor went on, “you are of far greater importance to the government, to the country, than is Colonel Castillo. Colonel Castillo would be relieved. But he would be replaced, because we know the President likes having an agent—a presidential agent, if you will—answerable only to him. And you and I both know that his replacement would not be anyone you might suggest, however well qualified he might be. That would be giving you too much of a victory.

“So it would be another military officer. And I put it to you, sir, that no matter how well that officer might do, his performance would be compared by the President against that of Colonel Castillo and found wanting. Partially because in the two successful operations Colonel Castillo has run as the President’s agent he was—as he is well aware—incredibly lucky. And partially because it wasn’t all luck. Colonel Castillo has demonstrated that he is obviously extremely well qualified for the duties the President has chosen to give him.

“And I put it to you further, Mr. Ambassador, that always—always—the President is going to be thinking, If Montvale hadn’t gotten on his high horse and forced me to get rid of Castillo, things would have turned out better. You were there. He did everything but beatify Charley in that little post-promotion speech he gave.”

Naylor turned to Castillo.

“And you, Colonel, are going to have to learn something that is not taught at West Point. An accommodation is not a surrender. You are going to have to come to some arrangement, an accommodation, with Ambassador Montvale. And he with you. Or you will both be failing the President, and I’m sure neither of you wants that.”

Montvale was about to reply when the waiter delivered their drinks, stopping the conversation.

After he’d gone, Montvale stirred his for several seconds, then extended the plastic stirrer to Castillo.

“Take it,” the director of National Intelligence said. “Think of it as an olive branch.”

“Make love, not war?” Castillo asked as he took the stirrer. It earned him a dirty look from Naylor.

“I really don’t want to get in a war with you, Charley,” Montvale said.

“Charley”? Not “Castillo”? Not “Colonel”? Or even “Major”?

I’m being charmed again and that’s dangerous.

“Nor I with you, Mr. Ambassador.”

“Shall we lay our cards on the table?”

“I have only one card to play: going to the President and telling him I can’t function with Mr. Ellsworth looking over my shoulder and reporting to you everything I’m doing or planning on doing.”

“I don’t understand why my being kept aware of what you’re doing is wrong,” Montvale said. “Certainly, you confide in General Naylor.”

“He does not,” Naylor said, flatly. “I frankly hoped he would, but he has not.”

Montvale raised an eyebrow. “You both realize, I’m sure, that would put another arrow in my quiver if I have to go to the President? ‘Mr. President, he doesn’t even tell General Naylor what he’s doing. Remember Ollie North?’”