By Order of the President (Presidential Agent 1) - Page 124

“Something has come up, actually,” he said and interrupted himself as a secretary came in with a tray holding a coffee service.

They were silent until after the coffee was poured and handed to them and the secretary had left.

“Thank you so much,” Patricia Wilson said. “Frankly, for the last hour of the flight I was looking forward to a long bath and a gallon of coffee.”

Powell smiled at her.

“As I was saying, something has come up,” he said. “And I wanted to talk to you about it as soon as possible.”

“I understand, Mr. Director.”

“Are you aware, Mrs. Wilson, of a filing from Luanda suggesting that a Russian arms dealer by the name of Aleksandr Pevsner has had something to do with the airplane, the 727, that’s gone missing over there?”

“Mr. Director, there was a satburst from Miller—the station chief . . . ?”

Powell nodded to tell her he knew whom she meant.

“. . . suggesting that something like that was possible.”

“And?”

“I didn’t think it was credible, Mr. Director,” she said. “Everything that’s come to me suggests that the most likely scenario is—what’s the phrase?—‘an insurance scam.’ And everything I was able to develop myself when I was in Angola supports that.”

“When you got the satburst, what did you do?”

“Nothing, Mr. Director. I dismissed it as a wild hair.”

“You didn’t send a ‘develop further’?”

“No, sir. I did not. But I looked into it when I was in Luanda, as I said a moment ago.”

“You, so to speak, just dismissed the satburst out of hand?”

“Yes, sir, I did. Perhaps if it had come from someone else ...”

Powell made a “Go on” gesture with his fingers.

“May I speak frankly, Mr. Director?” she asked.

“So far as I know, this office is not wired for sound,” he said with a smile.

“Mr. Director, the thing is . . . After I had my bath and gallon of coffee, the third thing I was going to do was come here and ask—almost demand—that Miller be relieved and replaced.”

“You have found him wanting?”

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry to say I have. Mr. Director, I never had the chance to sign off on Miller’s assignment. If I had been asked, I would not have concurred in the assignment.”

“Why not?”

“Let me say, Mr. Director, that I understand the human resources problem personnel had to deal with to fill that vacancy. A qualified individual simply wasn’t available. There simply aren’t enough African American officers to go around. And even fewer who speak Portuguese. And we— the agency—needed someone over there desperately. The slot had been vacant for months. They had to scrape the bottom of the barrel—and they did—and they came up with Miller, who really was just not qualified to hold down the job.”

“Interesting,” Powell said.

“I should have asked that he be relieved a long time ago ...”

“And why didn’t you?”

“Because Luanda is not one of the more important postings. Until this airplane was stolen, sir, nothing much has really happened there in a year, eighteen months. Aware of the human resources problem, I decided I would just let it slide and hope for the best. I realize now that was an error in judgment. ”

Tags: W.E.B. Griffin Presidential Agent Thriller
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