The Outlaws (Presidential Agent 6)

“Was that a question, Mr. President?” Mark Schmidt, the director of the FBI, asked.

“Does that mean you have an answer?”

“No, sir. Just that I’ve been thinking about motive.”

“Well, out with it.”

“For one thing, we humiliated the Russians when we took out the Fish Farm,” Schmidt said. “For another, Castillo and his people—”

“My predecessors’ loose cannon and his merry band of outlaws humiliated the Russians?” the President interrupted, sarcastically incredulous.

“Yes, sir. Castillo and his people have not only humiliated the Russians—which is to say Putin—all over Europe and South America but—according to what the Russian told Frank—has killed a lot of them. I think it’s credible that Putin did know some of them personally, and wants revenge.”

“Madam Secretary?” the President asked.

Natalie Cohen nodded her agreement with Schmidt’s theory.

“And he could well be reasoning that we really don’t want a confrontation when that could be avoided by returning their two defectors. We can’t give him Castillo, of course—”

“Why can’t we?” the President asked.

“Jesus Christ!” Lammelle exclaimed.

“Let’s go down that road,” Clendennen said. “No. Of course we can’t give him Colonel Castillo or any of his people. As much as I might want to. But we can go along with that notion ...”

“Let me go on the record here,” Natalie Cohen said. “I will not be part of any agreement which will turn over the two defectors, much less Colonel Castillo or any of his people, to the Russians.”

“Duly noted,” President Clendennen said. “Let me finish, please. I said we can let the Russians think we’re willing to give them all three of them. So far as the Russians are concerned, we weren’t responsible for their defection.”

“Castillo flew them out of Vienna on his plane, Mr. President,” Powell said. “And if he hadn’t, we had a plane waiting at Schwechat to do the same thing.”

“If they had gotten on a plane sent by the CIA, Mr. Powell,” the President said coldly, “we would have some sort of moral obligation to protect them. They didn’t. Castillo was not acting on behalf of the U.S. government when he flew them to South America. Therefore, we have no such moral obligation.”

“I don’t agree with that at all, Mr. President,” Powell said.

“I don’t care, Mr. Powell, if you agree with it or not. I’m telling you that’s the way it is.”

He let that sink in for a moment, and then went on: “Madam Secretary, I want you to call in the Argentine ambassador and tell him that it has come to our attention that there are two people in his country illegally ... what are their names?”

“Presumably, Mr. President, you are referring to Dmitri Berezovsky and Svetlana Alekseeva,” she said.

“... for whom Interpol has issued warrants alleging the embezzlement of several millions of dollars.”

“Excuse me, Mr. President,” Mark Schmidt said. “Interpol has canceled those warrants at the request of the Russian Federation. Three days ago. Berezovsky and Alekseeva are no longer fugitives.”

“You’re sure?” the President said.

“Yes, sir. I’m sure.”

“Well, so much for that idea,” the President said. “That would have been easier. We’ll have to come up with something else. So here’s what we’re going to do: Lammelle, get in touch with your Russian and tell him he has a deal.”

“Am I to tell him the deal includes Colonel Castillo?”

“Yes. I told you I was not about to turn over an American to those Russian bastards, but if they think I am, so much the better for us.”

“Yes, sir.”

That sonofabitch is lying through his teeth. He’d happily turn Castillo over to the Russians, or anyone else, if it would get him out of this mess.