The Outlaws (Presidential Agent 6)

The two shook hands.

“Show Mr. Dinston where you want us to go, Colonel,” Captain Lowe said.

Castillo bent over the chart table, found La Orchila island, and then put his finger on the map.

“Fifty miles east of that island,” he said. “I want to be there at oh-three-thirty tomorrow.”

“What’s on that island?” Mr. Dinston asked.

“I’m sorry, but you don’t have the need to know,” Castillo said.

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

“Don’t feel bad, Jerry,” Captain Lowe said. “Neither do I.”

He met Castillo’s eyes as he spoke.

“Plot the course, Jerry,” Captain Lowe ordered, “and bring it to the wardroom.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

“Before we get started,” Castillo said, when everyone was in the wardroom and the door had been closed, “Captain Lowe was never in this room nor anywhere else when any aspect of this operation except where we’re asking him to place his ship was discussed. Everybody got that?”

There came a murmur of “Yes, sir.”

“Would you like to say anything, Captain, before we get started?”

“Housekeeping,” Captain Lowe said. “Could I get my chief in here and get the cabin assignments out of the way?”

“Captain, you don’t have to ask me permission to do anything,” Castillo said. “This is your ship.”

“I know,” Captain Lowe said. “I’m being nice. Colonel Kingsolving told me he thinks that most of you will shortly be in jail.”

The chief looked as if he had been in the Navy for longer than anybody in the room was old. And he got right to the point: “How many oh-sixes we got? Raise your hands, please.”

Kingsolving and Torine raised their hands.

“Dmitri,” Castillo said, “raise your hand.” Then he explained: “Colonel Berezovsky is a Russian, chief. They don’t do ranks by numbers.”

“Not a problem,” the chief said. “There are three staterooms for visiting oh-sixes. You’ll find the keys in the doors. We also got three staterooms, two officers per, for oh-fives and oh-fours. How many oh-fives?”

Castillo raised his hand. “Two, chief,” he said and pointed at Svetlana.

“You’re an oh-five?” the chief, dubious, asked her.

Svetlana looked at Castillo for guidance. He nodded, and Captain Lowe, seeing this, said, “Colonel, anything you can tell me, you can tell the chief.”

“I am a former podpolkovnik of the Sluzhba Vneshney Razvedki, Chief Petty Officer,” Sweaty said just a little arrogantly.

“Yes, ma’am,” the chief said. “Okay, so we put you, ma’am, in one of the oh-five staterooms, and Colonel Castillo in the other, leaving one. How many oh-fours we got?”

“Excuse me, Chief Petty Officer,” former Podpolkovnik Alekseeva of the Sluzhba Vneshney Razvedki said. “Put Lieutenant Colonel Castillo in one of those oh-five staterooms with me.”

“Excuse me?”

“You seem surprised,” Sweaty said. “Don’t officers of the U.S. Navy sleep with women?”

“Sometimes, Colonel, some of us do,” Captain Lowe said grinning broadly. “You heard the colonel, chief. Get on with it.”