By Order of the President (Presidential Agent 1)

Powell grunted.

“Does the name Charles Castillo mean anything to you, Mrs. Wilson?”

She searched her memory before replying.

“No, Mr. Director. I can’t say that it does. May I ask who he is?”

“At the moment, I don’t know much about him myself,” Powell admitted. He paused, then he went on: “You said that you were going to come here first thing and ask that Miller be relieved. Why now?”

“Well, I was frankly annoyed, or disappointed, or both, that the best theory Miller came up with was the absurd idea that a Russian arms dealer stole this old airplane and . . .”

He waited fifteen seconds for her to go on, and, when she did not, asked, “And?”

“I’m reluctant to go into this, Mr. Director.”

“Go into it.”

“Miller . . . you know he’s Army and not really one of us?”

Powell nodded.

“He may have a drinking problem, sir.”

“Oh?”

“We had dinner, sir,” she said, modestly averting her eyes. “And after two martinis and a bottle of wine, Miller made it plain to me that he would . . . like to enter a personal relationship with me.”

“He made a pass at you?” Powell asked.

“Yes, Mr. Director, he did,” Patricia Wilson said. “Sir, I’m perfectly capable of dealing with situations like that. But if that’s indicative of his behavior . . .”

“I take your point, Mrs. Wilson,” Powell said.

“We can’t afford to have people who lose control, sir.”

“No, we can’t. And you’re right about this man Miller being out of control.”

“Sir?”

“Apparently, in anticipation of a ‘develop further’ from you Miller did a five- or six-page filing.”

“Really?”

“And then when it became obvious to him that he wasn’t going to get a ‘develop further’ from you, instead of shredding the filing he apparently gave it to this Mr. Charles Castillo, who works for the secretary of homeland security.”

“That violates . . .”

“. . . just about every regulation concerning filings,” Powell furnished.

“Yes, it does,” Patricia Wilson said, righteously indignant. “Mr. Director, that sort of behavior simply cannot be tolerated!”

“It hasn’t been,” Powell said. “It won’t be necessary for you to request Miller’s relief, Mrs. Wilson. I have already relieved him.”

She met his eyes.

“What will happen to him?” she asked.

“He goes back to the Army, of course. They’ll have to decide what to do with him.”