"Would you come with me, please? I may need a witness."

"Sure," Torine said, turned his head and raised his voice. "Bill, I'm leaving the aircraft. It's now yours."

"Yes, sir."

When Special Agent Willkie saw Colonel Torine follow Castillo down the stairs, he looked at him in surprise, and then announced, "The President said nothing about wanting to see anyone but you, Mr. Castillo."

"Well, then I guess he'll be surprised when he sees Colonel Torine, won't he?"

As soon as they were standing on the runway beside the Globemaster, Special Agent Willkie spoke to his lapel microphone.

"Mr. Castillo insists on bringing the pilot with him."

"Not 'the pilot,' my friend," Torine said, not very pleasantly. "Colonel Jake Torine, U.S. Air Force."

"He says his name is Torine," Special Agent Willkie said to his lapel microphone.

Thirty seconds later, Special Agent Willkie said, "If you'll get in the Yukon, please, gentlemen, I will escort you to the President."

They had been in the backseat of the Yukon about thirty seconds when Torine touched Castillo's shoulder and pointed out the window.

Castillo looked and saw soldiers armed with Car 16 rifles forming a perimeter guard around the Globemaster.

"I didn't know they trusted Air Force guys with loaded guns," Castillo said.

Torine smirked. "Those aren't Air Force guys, wisea.s.s. They're soldiers, almost certainly Special Forces and probably Delta Force. And at least one of them is Gray Fox. That is Sergeant Orson, isn't it?"

Castillo looked. One of the soldiers was a tall, blond sergeant first cla.s.s named Orson. The last time Castillo had seen the Gray Fox communicator/sniper was in Costa Rica, where Orson had very professionally taken out two of the terrorists who had stolen the 727.

"I'll be d.a.m.ned, that's Orson all right."

What the h.e.l.l is going on?

The Yukon stopped in front of the wide flight of stairs that had been rolled up to the huge Boeing, and Castillo and Torine got out. There was a knot of people guarding access to the stairs, including two females who were obviously Secret Service agents.

One of them spoke to her lapel microphone, and then turned to Castillo and Torine.

"You may board, gentlemen," she said. "The President is expecting you."

XII.

[ONE].

Aboard Air Force One Keesler Air Force Base Biloxi, Mississippi 2050 25 July 2005

Although he'd seen the presidential aircraft before, and had been closer to both of them than most people ever get, Castillo had never actually been inside one of them.

The first thing he noticed when he stepped through the door was that the interior was unlike any other that he'd ever seen on any Boeing 747 or, for that matter, on any airliner. Instead of row after row of seats, he found himself looking at the seal of the President of the United States mounted on a cream-colored wall running as far as he could see-fifty feet or so-along the left side of the aircraft, down to where there was a bend in the corridor that the wall formed.

The second thing he noticed was a Secret Service agent standing in the short section of corridor to his left. Castillo had heard that the presidential apartment was in the nose of the aircraft, under the flight deck, and had just decided the Secret Service agent was guarding the President when a second Secret Service agent spoke to him. This one he knew.

"Down the corridor to the door," Joel Isaacson said, pointing. And then he added: "Good to see you, Charley."

Castillo shook Isaacson's hand as he walked past him, but didn't speak.

The door Isaacson made reference to was in the bend of the corridor. As Castillo got close to it, a Secret Service agent appeared and pushed the door inward.

Castillo stepped through it and found himself in a decent-sized conference room. There was a large table, with eight leather-upholstered armchairs around it. They all had seat belts.

Seated at the table were the secretary of state, Dr. Natalie Cohen; the secretary of Homeland Security, the Honorable Matthew Hall; the director of national intelligence,Amba.s.sador Charles Montvale; and General Allan Naylor, commander in chief of CentCom. The President of the United States was sprawled on a leather sectional couch against the interior wall, talking on the telephone.

When he saw Castillo, he smiled and signaled for him to come in and to take one of the unoccupied armchairs at the table. Then, when he saw Colonel Torine, he signaled for him to come in and to take another of the armchairs.

Castillo got a smile from the secretary of state and the secretary of Homeland Security. General Naylor nodded at him, and the director of national intelligence looked at him in what Castillo thought was both curiosity and disapproval.

Then the President said into the phone, "Sweetheart, Charley Castillo just walked in the door. I'll have to call you later."

With a little bit of difficulty, the President replaced the handset in a wall rack, then stood up and walked to Castillo. As Castillo started to get up, the President waved his right hand to order him to stay seated, and then offered the hand to him.

"Good to see you, Charley," he said, and then turned to Torine. "And you, too, Colonel. I was a little surprised to hear you'd flown the Globemaster down there, but then I realized I shouldn't have been. You and Charley are sort of a team, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir. I suppose we are."

"Is it still hot outside?" the President asked, as he walked to the head of the conference table and sat down.

"Hot and humid, sir," Torine said.

"Wise people don't come to Mississippi in the middle of the summer," the President lightly proclaimed, "or go to Minnesota in the middle of the winter. Wise people go to South Carolina during any season and never leave."

There was dutiful laughter.

"Two things are going to happen right away," the President quickly said next, his tone now serious. "The first, because I simply can't stay here for the funeral as much as I would like to, is that we're making a photo-op ceremony of taking Mr. Masterson's casket from the airplane. Including a band. They're setting that up now. I understand we'll have about fifteen minutes. Which is time enough to set the second thing that's going to happen in motion."

He reached under the table and came up with a well-worn leather attache case. He opened it and took out two sheets of paper and handed them to General Naylor.

"Would you please read that aloud, General?"

"Yes, sir."

Naylor took the sheets of paper, glanced at them a moment, then began to read.

"Top Secret-Presidential.

"The White House, Washington, D.C. July 25, 2005.

"Presidential Finding.

"It has been found that the a.s.sa.s.sination of J. Winslow Masterson, chief of mission of the United States emba.s.sy in Buenos Aires, Argentina; the abduction of Mr. Masterson's wife, Mrs. Elizabeth Lorimer Masterson; the a.s.sa.s.sination of Sergeant Roger Markham, USMC; and the attempted a.s.sa.s.sination of Secret Service Special Agent Elizabeth T. Schneider indicate beyond any reasonable doubt the existence of a continuing plot or plots by terrorists, or terrorist organizations, to cause serious damage to the interests of the United States, its diplomatic officers, and its citizens, and that this situation cannot be tolerated.

"It is further found that the efforts and actions taken and to be taken by the several branches of the United States government to detect and apprehend those individuals who committed the terrorist acts previously described, and to prevent similar such acts in the future, are being and will be hampered and rendered less effective by strict adherence to applicable laws and regulations.

"It is therefore found that clandestine and covert action under the sole supervision of the President is necessary.

"It is directed and ordered that there be immediately established a clandestine and covert organization with the mission of determining the ident.i.ty of the terrorists involved in the a.s.sa.s.sinations, abduction, and attempted a.s.sa.s.sination previously described and to render them harmless. And to perform such other covert and clandestine activities as the President may elect to a.s.sign.

"For purposes of concealment, the aforementioned clandestine and covert organization will be known as the Office of Organizational a.n.a.lysis, within the Department of Homeland Security. Funding will initially be from discretional funds of the office of the President. The manning of the organization will be decided by the President acting on the advice of the chief, Office of Organizational a.n.a.lysis.

"Major Carlos G. Castillo, Special Forces, U.S. Army, is herewith appointed chief, Office of Organizational a.n.a.lysis, with immediate effect."

General Naylor stopped reading and looked at the President.

"The finding is witnessed by Miss Cohen as secretary of state, Mr. President."

The only sound in the room was that of cold air flowing through ports in the ceiling.

"That deafening silence we're hearing, Major Castillo," the President said softly, after a moment, "suggests to me that everyone is trying to come up with good and solid reasons why I should tear that finding up, and how these objections can be brought diplomatically to my attention. So let me save everybody the effort. This finding is not open for debate."

The President looked around the table as he let that sink in, then continued: "I not only want the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds who murdered Masterson and Sergeant Markham brought down, but I want to send a message to whoever is behind them, and to anyone else who thinks they can get away with murdering an American diplomat, that this President will be as ruthless as necessary to keep this from ever happening again, and this is how I've decided is the best way to do that."

"Mr. President," Amba.s.sador Montvale asked, "may I ask what my relationship to the major will be?"

"I'm glad you asked, Charles," the President said. "Let's make sure everyone understands this. It also applies to Natalie and Tom, of course, and to the other secretariesand the attorney general. You, and they, will provide to him whatever he feels is necessary to carry out the mission I have given to him. But he answers only to me. Everyone clear on that?"

"There are some potential problems that immediately come-"

"Charles, you can discuss those with Major Castillo," the President interrupted. "You did hear me say, didn't you, that this is not open for debate?"

"Yes, I did, Mr. President."

"Okay, this is Ground Zero," the President said. "What I would like now is for Major Castillo to tell us where he believes we are, and where he's going from here." He looked at Castillo. "Okay, Charley, go ahead."

Castillo realized that he was sitting erectly on the edge of the armchair seat, like any other junior determined not to miss a word of what would be said by the President or any of the others so vastly senior to a major.

As a Pavlovian reflex he started to stand up as a mark of respect and subordination to those seniors.

Wait a minute!

If I do that, it will signal that a lowly major is delivering a report to his seniors that they can consider with their greater wisdom and accept or reject.

I don't think the President wants me to do that.

Instead of standing up he slumped back in the chair and crossed his interlocked hands on his chest, as if gathering his thoughts, which happened to be true.

He saw that General Naylor and Colonel Torine were looking at him incredulously.

Well, let's see if I can get away with this.

"Mr. President," he began, sitting up, "when Mrs. Masterson was being interviewed at the German Hospital by Mr. Darby, who is the CIA station chief in Argentina and was a close friend of the Mastersons, she professed to know absolutely nothing about her abductors. I thought she was lying-"

"You decided, Major, that she was lying?" Montvale interrupted incredulously. decided, Major, that she was lying?" Montvale interrupted incredulously.

"Yes, Amba.s.sador Montvale, I did," Charley said, meeting his eyes. "And later, both Mr. Darby and Amba.s.sador Silvio agreed with that judgment."

"Lying about what, Charley?" the President asked.

"More of an omission, sir, than a mistruth. She said she could recall no details whatever of her abduction. I didn't believe that."

"The woman," Montvale said, "was obviously under the most severe-"

The President held up his hand to silence Montvale.

Castillo looked at the President, then continued: "Just before we took off from Ezeiza-the Buenos Aires airport-I gave Mrs. Masterson the medal, the Grand Cross of the Great Liberator, which had been pinned to the colors on Mr. Masterson's casket by the President of Argentina. She expressed to me her regret for Sergeant Markham's death and the wounds suffered by Special Agent Schneider. I'm afraid I was less than gracious to her. I had just come from the hospital, where Special Agent Schneider was lying in pain with her jaw wired shut, and sixty seconds before, I had walked past Sergeant Markham's casket.

"What I said to her, in effect, was that if she had been truthful, I thought Markham would still be alive and Schneider would not have been wounded."

"You called her a liar to her face, Charley?" Natalie Cohen asked in sad disbelief.

"Yes, ma'am. I'm afraid I did."

"And what was her reaction?" the President asked, softly.

"Not much at the time, sir, but just now, just before we came here, she came to me again, and said that now that she was in the United States, she could talk. She told me that her abductors wanted her to tell them where her brother is-"

"Her brother?" the President asked.

"Jean-Paul Lorimer, sir. He works for the United Nations in Paris. Mrs. Masterson said her abductors threatened to kill her children if she didn't tell them, and to kill the children and her family if she revealed any of this. And they murdered Mr. Masterson to prove they meant what they were saying."

"Sonofab.i.t.c.h!" the President of the United States said.

"Mr. President," Natalie Cohen said, "we've been trying to find Mr. Lorimer for several days without success. All we know is that he's not in his apartment and hasn't been in his office."

"Mrs. Masterson said she had no idea where her brother is," Castillo said.

"And why do you think, Major," Montvale asked, "that Mrs. Masterson chose to confide in you, rather than in, say, Amba.s.sador Silvio or her friend the CIA station chief?"

"Probably because we had just landed in the United States," Castillo said.

"If I may, Mr. President?" Colonel Torine asked.

The President waved his permission.