Hazardous Duty (Presidential Agent 8)

President Joshua Ezekiel Clendennen, followed by Supervisory Secret Service Agent Robert J. Mulligan, walked into the Oval Office. The President’s secretary and Presidental Spokesman Robin Hoboken, who stood waiting, watched as Mulligan pulled out the chair behind the presidential desk and the President sat down.

Mulligan went to the wall beside the windows looking out into the Rose Garden and leaned on it.

The President jabbed his finger in the direction of the coffee service on a side table, indicating he could use a cup, and said, “And put a little Hair of the Dog in it.”

“Yes, Mr. President,” his secretary said.

“No,” the President said, pointing at Hoboken. “Let Whatsisname here do that. I need a confidential word with him. You go file something or something.”

“Yes, Mr. President,” his secretary said, and left the office.

Robin Hoboken went to the side table and poured a cup of coffee three-quarters full. Then he went to a bookcase and took from behind a book a large white medicine bottle labeled “Take Two Ounces Orally at First Sign of Catarrh Attack.”

He added two ounces of the palliative to the President’s coffee cup and then presented the cup and its saucer to the President.

The President picked up the cup with both hands and took a healthy swallow.

He did not say “Thank you.”

“Mr. President,” Robin Hoboken said, “your eight-thirty is Senator Forman. Is there anything I should know?”

“Wrong,” the President said. “For two reasons. One, Mulligan had to carry ol’ Foggy out of here last night and load him in his car, and the only place the senator’s going to be at eight-thirty is in bed. Two, the First Lady got me out of bed by telling me the secretary of State called her last night to tell her we’ve got a message saying they found Colonel Castillo, and Mrs. Clendennen told her to deliver it this morning.”

“Yes, Mr. President.”

“I want you here for that. Don’t say anything, just listen. Sometimes, when I’m suffering from a catarrh attack—and this one’s a doozy—my memory isn’t what it used to be.”

“I understand, Mr. President.”

“I think I’ll have another little touch of that catarrh elixir, Robin,” the President said. “Why don’t you pour a little in a fresh coffee cup before you get ol’ Natalie in here? That way she wouldn’t see the bottle.”

“Of course, Mr. President.”

“Let her in, Mulligan,” the President ordered.

“Good morning, Mr. President,” Secretary of State Cohen said as she walked into the Oval Office.

“What’s so important that you told the First Lady you wanted to see me first thing this morning?”

“Actually, Mr. President, I wanted to see you—or at least talk to you—last night. When I spoke with Mrs. Clendennen she set up this appointment for me.”

“Well, what have you got?”

Cohen handed him the message.

He read it.

“What’s it mean?” he asked.

“Apparently Colonel Naylor has found Colonel Castillo.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t he a lieutenant colonel?”

“You’re correct, Mr. President. Castillo is a lieutenant colonel, retired.”

“And LTC means lieutenant colonel, too, right? I thought I told General Naylor to go down there and look for Lieutenant Colonel Castillo. So how come LTC Naylor went?”

“That was my decision, sir. I felt that someone in the press would find out if General Naylor went down there—”