The President looked thoughtfully at Montvale, then at Castillo.
“And Charley’s not likely to win any popularity contest in the J. Edgar Hoover Building, either, is he?” the President said, then paused in thought. “Let me make some contribution to this.”
The President walked to his desk, punched several buttons on his telephone without lifting the handset, then sat and leaned back in his high-backed leather chair.
“Yes, Mr. President?” the White House switchboard operator’s voice came over the speakerphone.
“Get me Mark Schmidt, please,” the President said.
Less than twenty seconds later, the voice of the director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation came over the speakerphone.
“Good afternoon, Mr. President.”
The President wasted no time on the social amenities.
“Mark, what I need is a good, senior FBI agent,” he said.
“There’s no shortage of them around here, Mr. President. May I ask why?”
“Someone who knows his way into the dark corners over there, Mark. Someone who’s
really good at putting disassociated facts together. Someone, now that I think about it, who probably works pretty closely with you and will be able to get you on the phone if he needs some help.”
“Inspector Jack Doherty of my staff meets those criteria, Mr. President. It would help, sir, if I knew exactly what you need.”
“I told you, Mark. I need some help in putting a jigsaw puzzle together. This is very important to me, so if this is inconvenient for you I’m sorry. But I want this man to be in Ambassador Montvale’s office by nine tomorrow morning. He’ll be working for him for an indefinite period—until the puzzle is assembled. And Montvale is going to tell him that he is not to share with anyone—anyone—anything about the puzzle. I think it would be a good idea if you told him about that before you send him to the ambassador.”
“That sounds as if I’m being kept in the dark about whatever your problem is, Mr. President.”
“It’s a question of Need to Know, Mark. And right now…”
“I understand, Mr. President.”
“Thanks, Mark. We’ll be talking.”
The President reached forward and punched a button, breaking the connection.
“When Inspector Doherty shows up at your office, Charles,” the President said, “you tell him about the Finding and then send him over to Castillo.”
“Mr. President, I can’t do that,” Montvale replied.
The President was known for not liking to have his orders questioned.
“Why not?” he asked, sharply.
“Sir, only you and Colonel Castillo are authorized to grant security clearances vis-à-vis the Finding.”
The President stared at him a moment, then said, “You’re right. I’d forgotten that. Okay. So when Inspector Whatshisname shows up tomorrow, you relay to him my personal order that he is not to relate to Director Schmidt or anyone else in the FBI anything he learns while working for Castillo. Then send him to Castillo, who can tell him about the Finding.”
“Very well, sir, if that’s the way you wish for me to handle it.”
“That’s the way,” the President said.
Well, Castillo thought, suppressing a smirk, that ends your hope of being able to clear people for the Finding, doesn’t it, Mr. Ambassador?
Wait. What the hell are you being so smug about, hotshot?
Montvale just saved your ass.