“You’re telling me you don’t know where he is—where the Russians are?”
“I didn’t say that. What I said was that I believe Colonel Castillo has obeyed the order from the President to disappear.”
“Then you do know where he is? Where the Russian defectors are?”
“I didn’t say that, either.”
“Are you aware that it’s a felony, Mr. Darby, to lie to, or mislead, a federal officer?”
“Mr. Andrews, a point of order,” Two-Gun said. “One, right now, you’re not a federal officer, but rather simply someone whom Mrs. Darby has compassionately allowed to warm himself in her house. Two, if Mr. Darby were ever to be interviewed by any federal officer, he would, on advice of counsel, refuse to answer any questions put to him that either might tend to incriminate him, or cause him to violate any of the several oaths he took as an officer of the Clandestine Service of the CIA to never divulge in his lifetime anything he learned in the performance of those duties.”
Mason Andrews looked between Two-Gun and the Darbys, then announced, “I can see that I’m wasting my time here. Let’s go, McGuire.”
“But you haven’t had any breakfast,” Julia Darby said. “Dianne’s making a Spanish omelet.”
“And breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” Two-Gun offered. “Haven’t you heard that, Mr. Secretary?”
Andrews glared at him but didn’t respond.
“And one more thing, Mr. Andrews,” Two-Gun said. “Those Secret Service agents of yours who have been watching the house?”
“What about them?”
“The right of a governmental agency to surveille does not carry with it any right to trespass. The next time I see one of them on this property, I’m going to call the Alexandria police and charge them with trespass. And if they are indeed Secret Service agents, since you and I have had this little chat, that would constitute trespass after warning, which is a felony.”
Andrews, his face white, marched toward the front door, calling over his shoulder, “Goddamn it, McGuire, I said let’s go.”
In the Yukon, Andrews slammed the door shut and turned to McGuire.
“As of this minute, McGuire, you’re placed on administrative leave. It is my intention to have you separated from the Secret Service and I think you know why.”
“I haven’t a clue, Mr. Secretary.”
“Goddamn it! Whose side are you on, anyway? You enjoyed watching those bastards humiliate me.”
“Mr. Secretary, I took an oath to defend the Constitution against all enemies foreign and domestic. I have done so to the best of my ability.”
“Sending the director of National Intelligence on a wild-goose chase to Ushuaia is your idea of defending the Constitution? Jesus H. Christ!”
“I told Ambassador Montvale that Mrs. Darby said Mr. Darby might be there. That’s all.”
“You’d better be prepared to tell a grand jury that Mrs. Darby did just that. Lying to or making a misrepresentation to a federal officer is a felony. Your pal is going to jail, McGuire, and if I can figure out some way to get you before a grand jury for lying to Ambassador Montvale, I will.”
“Oh, come on, Andrews. You know Montvale almost as well as I do. Can you really imagine the Great Charles M. getting up in a courtroom and testifying under oath that one of his underlings sent him on a wild-goose chase anywhere? Much less all t
he way to the bottom of the world? And that doesn’t even touch on the question of who he was looking for and why.”
Secretary Andrews considered that for thirty seconds.
“Get out of the car, you sonofabitch! Walk back to Washington!”
McGuire got out of the Yukon.
But instead of walking back to Washington, he went to the door of the house, rang the bell, and when the lady of the house answered, asked if there was any Spanish omelet left to feed someone who had just lost his job.
[THREE]
Office of the Commanding General