The Shooters (Presidential Agent 4)

McNab held up his hand as a signal to wait until he had finished chewing. That took at least ten seconds.

McNab then said, "That sort of operation, I would think-correct me if I'm wrong, Tom-would be run by the DEA or the Coast Guard or, for that matter, the Navy. They've got an ONI operation in Key West to do just that sort of thing." He looked at Kingston, who nodded his agreement. "So what does Montvale have to say about this?"

"Montvale doesn't know about it," Castillo said.

"The agency is up to something like that and the director of National Intelligence doesn't know about it?" McNab said.

"Maybe doesn't want to?" Kingston asked.

"I don't think he knows," Castillo said. "He was there when the President gave me this job. He didn't think it was a good idea. Neither did Natalie Cohen. I think if he-and now that I think of it-he or Natalie knew about this agency operation, one or the other or both would have used it as an argument to get the President to change his mind."

"Unless, of course, they know the President well enough to judge that he was not in a frame of mind to change his mind," McNab said.

"I don't think he knows," Castillo said. "I don't think either of them do."

"How did this Weiss character know what you're up to?" Kingston asked.

Castillo told them about Delchamps, and then that Miller had eavesdropped on the session with Weiss, and that both were willing to go with him to the President.

McNab thoughtfully chewed another piece of beef, then said: "My advice, Charley, would be to obey the last lawful order you received, which was to go get the DEA guy back."

"I was hoping you'd say that, sir," Castillo said.

"That was advice, Charley. I'm not in a position to give you orders."

"Yes, sir, I understand. But thanks for the advice."

"I hope it didn't change your mind about anything."

"No, sir. It did not."

"Good. Maybe you did learn something after all during all those years you were my canape passer."

Castillo chuckled. As long as he had been McNab's aide-de-camp, he had never passed a canape to the general's guests. McNab regarded the primary function of an aide-de-camp to be sort of an intern, an opportunity for a junior officer to see how senior officers functioned and learn from it.

He wondered if the young captain whom McNab had sent to feed Neidermeyer, Max, and the Gulfstream crew understood this.

McNab had never said anything to me. I had to figure it out myself; that was part of the training.

"Okay, Tom. What do you think?" McNab said.

And that's something else I learned from Bruce J. McNab. I'd heard about it at the Point, but I learned it from him.

A wise officer gets-even if he has to force the issue-the opinions and suggestions of his subordinates before he offers his own, and, more important, makes any decisions.

That way, they say what they think, rather than what they think the boss wa

nts to hear.

"Nothing, General, but how to get the Hueys down there black," Kingston said, thoughtfully. "That does not pose much of a real problem-except the usual ones, time and money. Castillo wants this done yesterday."

"With respect, sir, it's not me who wants it done yesterday," Castillo said. "But black outweighs time."

"How about money?" Kingston asked.

"You tell me how much is wanted, and where, and Dick Miller will wire it within a matter of hours."

"It would be impolitic of you, Tom," McNab said, "to ask where he's getting the money."