"No, but the troops are getting a little restless."
"Well, keep everybody there. I'm on my way."
"Done. And?"
"And?"
"You said two things."
"Oh, yeah. See if Lorimer has a uniform. If he does, put him in it. And I'm presuming you brought mine from the hotel?"
"Freshly run one last time through their very expensive dry-cleaning operation. If I were to infer that the trumpets have sounded and that you and Pegleg are about to rush to the sound of musketry, would I be close?"
"A lot worse than that. I'll explain when I get there."
As the Yukon turned onto West Boulevard Drive, a red light-emitting diode (LED) on the telephone began to flash. Castillo looked at it, wondered what it was, and had just decided it meant he'd better pick up the phone when the driver said, "I think you'd better pick up, Colonel. That's the White House calling."
Oh, boy, another friendly offer of help from Montvale!
"Castillo."
"I just talked to that man in Chicago," the President of the United States said. "Timmons's family will be expecting you."
"Mr. President, I'm on my way to pack my bag."
"Reassure the family, Charley, that's the important thing. Make them understand the situation is under control. Get the mayor off my back."
In other words, lie through my teeth.
The situation is anything but under control.
"I'll do my best, sir."
"I've got a number for you to call. Got a pencil?"
"Just a moment, please, sir."
He furiously patted his pockets until he felt a ballpoint pen, dug it out, and knocked the cap off.
"Ready, sir."
Charley wrote the number the President gave him on the heel of his left hand.
"Got it, sir."
The President made him read it back.
"Right," the President said. "Let me know how it goes, Charley."
"Yes, sir."
"Good man!"
The line went dead.
"I don't suppose you've got a piece of paper, do you?" Charley asked the driver.
"There's a clipboard with a pad and a couple of ballpoints on a chain on the back of the other seat, Colonel."