Hazardous Duty (Presidential Agent 8)

“The most important general in the world,” Lammelle said, “has taken the question under consideration, but has nothing to say at this time.”

Andy McClarren, of Wolf News, who had been the most watched news personality on television for ten years and counting, had so described Naylor. He argued that while the chief of staff administered the Army, he had few troops actually under his command. Naylor’s Central Command, on the other hand, was made up not only of the Army elements thereof, but also of Air Force and Navy components, placing him in direct command of more soldiers, sailors, and airmen, plus more artillery, tanks, aircraft, and warships, than any other officer anywhere in the world.

The description was accurate, but General Naylor was uncomfortable with it.

“One more question, Natalie,” Lammelle said, “and then I’ll let you go. Do we tell Truman Ellsworth that Charley is not in Budapest and save him that tiring trip?”

“How do you know that Charley’s not in Budapest?” Naylor asked.

“Charley’s in Argentina,” Lammelle said.

“How do you know that?” Naylor asked, and then before Lammelle could reply, said, accusingly, “The President asked you if you knew where he was.”

“No, he asked you and Ellsworth,” Lammelle said. “If he had asked Natalie or me, we probably would have told him.”

“‘Probably’?” Naylor parroted indignantly. “That’s outrageous! He’s the President of the United States!”

The exchange illustrated the cultural differences between the worlds of General Naylor and DCI Lammelle. Naylor was a product of West Point—as five previous generations of his ancestors had been—and tried very hard to live his life according to the West Point Code of Honor, which holds that one must not lie, cheat, or steal, nor tolerate those who did.

Lammelle had been in the intelligence business all his life. He had learned as a young Army Counterintelligence Corps sergeant—and later as a CIC officer—that lying, stealing, and cheating was often the only way one could get things done. And when he’d joined the CIA’s Clandestine Service and had risen to the top of that organization, he had learned that the higher one rose the more one had to lie, steal, cheat, and closely associate oneself with world-class lowlifes who were fantastically skilled liars, cheats, and thieves to get things done.

“So what are you going to do, Allan?”

“Comply with my orders, of course.”

“You mean you’re going to go to Argentina, try to find Charley, and if you can, tell him to report to the President?”

“Those are my orders.”

“Not getting into the subject at all of all the questions that are going to be asked—by, among others, the vibrant voice of Wolf News, Andy McClarren, who seems fascinated with anything you do—about why the C in C Central Command is flying off to Argentina, and presuming you can find Charley—and I’m not going to tell you where in Argentina he is—have you considered what Charley’s reaction to this is going to be?”

Naylor glared at him.

“The possibility, for example, that Charley will say, ‘With all possible respect, sir, tell our nutcake President to take a flying fuck at a rolling doughnut’?”

Naylor didn’t reply.

“I think that’s a credible scenario, Allan. I don’t think that Charley has forgotten that the last time the Commander in Chief sent someone looking for him, the idea was to load him and his lady love on an Aeroflot airplane and ship them to Russia.”

After a long moment, Naylor asked, “What would you do, Frank?”

“I don’t have a clue how I’m going to handle this latest idiocy,” Lammelle said. “So I’m in no position to suggest what you should do. Except, maybe… Why don’t you see what McNab thinks?”

“What makes you think I’d ask him about anything?” Naylor said. “We can’t even make him privy to the Cabinet meeting. Everything that happens at a Cabinet meeting is Top Secret, Presidential.”

“No fooling?” Lammelle asked sarcastically. “I guess I should have known that.”

Naylor’s face whitened, but he didn’t say anything.

He didn’t say anything at all during the rest of the way to Andrews Air Force Base, except, “Thank you for the ride,” when he got out of Lammelle’s Yukon.

[FOUR]

Pope Air Force Base, North Carolina

1510 5 June 2007

As the C-37A—the military designation of the Gulfstream Aerospace Corporation’s Gulfstream V—made its approach to the airfield, which abuts Fort Bragg, an olive drab Dodge SUV drove onto the tarmac beside Base Operations and stopped under a sign reading Absolutely No Parking At Any Time.