By Order of the President

S?N?R KARL W. GOSSINGER

MY DEAR MR. GOSSINGER:

Roberto Dondiemo

Roberto Dondiemo, my ass!

"It's for me. Thank you very much, Sergeant Schneider," Castillo said.

"Sometime, when you can find time, you can tell me about Mr. Gossinger."

"I'd love to. I'll make time," Castillo said and then turned to Detective Britton. "I'll be right back, Detective Britton. I have to deal with this."

"Sure," Britton said.

He went to Fernando, who was talking-in Spanish-to a Homicide Bureau detective, handed him the fax, and said-in Spanish: "I sure hope you brought your Cozumel International approach charts with you."

"What the hell is this?" Fernando asked, in English, as Castillo punched numbers into his cellular.

"You said you wanted to go snorkeling in Cozumel," Castillo said.

"What?"

The call went through much quicker than Castillo thought it would.

"Roberto Dondiemo."

"Gee, you sure don't have much of an accent when you speak English, Senor Dondiemo."

"Thank you. I could say the same thing about you, Herr Gossinger. There's hardly any trace of German."

"Dare I hope you've straightened out the problem with my American Express card by now?"

"Indeed I have. Absolutely. It was: what's the English phrase?: a glitch of some kind. Can I take it that we'll soon have the pleasure of your company in the resort?"

"If I was sure I could find what I'm looking for, I would certainly come."

"I have a good idea where you can find what you're looking for, Mr. Gossinger. I could say I'm almost positive I can locate it for you."

"You wouldn't want to tell me now, I suppose?"

"I really think you should come down here, Mr. Gossinger. All work and no play, as they say."

"I probably will. But if I do, my party will be a little larger than originally planned."

"Why does that worry me?"

"It shouldn't. One of the people will be my cousin and the other two will be soldiers, taking sort of a busman's holiday."

"None of whom, I hope, have ever heard of me?"

"None of them have ever heard of you."

"I don't know why the hell I trust you, Mr. Gossinger. Maybe it's that boyishly honest face you have."

"But you do, right?"

"Against my better judgment."

"Tell me, does the Grande Cozumel Beach and Golf Resort have a flat roof?"

"Now that you mention it, yes, it does. Is that important, somehow?"

"And the rooms you've reserved for me, are they on the top floor?"

"No. As a matter of fact, you can walk directly from your accommodations onto the beach. We've put you into the Jack Nicklaus Suite. Will that be satisfactory?"

"That's very kind, but we'd much prefer to be on the top floor, which would give us a good view of the beach and where we could watch the waves go up and down. Will that be a problem?"

"Not at all. You'll be among friends here, one of whom happens to own the hotel. Your every wish will be our command."

Jesus, is he telling me Pevsner's there?

"How nice!"

"I was about to suggest that the best way to get here, probably, is through Miami."

"I have a plane."

"What kind of a plane?"

"A Lear 45X. Getting there will be no problem. But I always worry about getting delayed at customs."

"Put your mind at rest about customs. When may we expect the pleasure of your company?"

"I'll call again when I know."

"I'll be expecting your call, Mr. Gossinger."

When he put his cellular telephone back in his pocket, he saw that Betty Schneider and Fernando were looking at him. She had a telephone in her hand, her palm covering the mouthpiece.

"This one's for Supervisory Special Agent Castillo of the Secret Service," she said. "Wouldn't give his name."

He nodded and took the telephone from her.

"Castillo."

"Something wrong with your cellular, Charley?" the secretary of the Department of Homeland Security said.

"Sir, I was talking to: my new friend from Vienna."

"What did he have to say?"

"He wants me to come to Cozumel."

"He's in Cozumel?"

And doesn't want the FBI – for that matter, anybody, but especially the FBI – to know.

But Hall has every right to know.

"Yes, sir. And he says he's almost positive he knows where what we're looking for can be found."

"But he wouldn't tell you where? And he wants you to go to Cozumel?"

"No, sir, he wouldn't tell me. And, yes, sir, he wants me to go to Cozumel."

"He didn't say why?"

"No, sir, he didn't. I think I'd better go, sir."

"And what about General McNab?"

"After I see General McNab, sir, and presuming nothing turns up there that would shoot down Cozumel."

"That's a pretty bad choice of words, Charley."

"Sorry, sir."

Castillo thought he heard Secretary Hall exhale.

"Charley," Hall said, "when I said I wanted you to keep me in the loop I meant it."

"Yes, sir. I understand. I will, sir."

"You didn't tell me about your run-in with the FBI," Hall said, flatly. "I had to hear that from Joel."

"I thought I'd see what Joel could do first, sir. I didn't want to bother you."

"Bother me? Jesus Christ, Charley, we're running out of time!"

"I understand, sir."

"I'm not sure you do. Tomorrow morning- this morning, when I meet with the mayor at half past nine, I'm going to have to tell him."

"Sir, I thought we had until four something in the afternoon."

"The president said I'm to inform the mayor this morning. He said the mayor has the right to know. Which means I have to ask-more accurately, beg-the mayor for a little time before he pushes the panic button. And I'd like to be able to tell him something more than we're looking for the airplane and hope to find it."

"Jesus!"

"Like I said, we're running out of time," Hall said. "But the reason I called: When Joel came to me with your yarn about the FBI's intransigent stupidity, taking you at your word, I got Mark Schmidt out of bed. Taking me at mine, Schmidt seems as angry as you were. He told me that he would deal with it personally. You should be hearing from the special agent in charge of their Philadelphia office any minute. If you don't hear from him in the next fifteen minutes, call me."

"Yes, sir."

"Call me in fifteen minutes, whether or not you hear from them."

"Yes, sir."

[FOUR]

For the next fifteen minutes, Castillo sat in the interviewee chair in interview room 3. Sergeant Betty Schneider sat on the table beside Detective Jack Britton. Chief Inspector Dutch Kramer and Dick Miller leaned against the wall as all three-but mostly Castillo-tried to pull from Britton any bit of information that would fill in the blanks. Britton understood what was being asked of him, and why, and pulled all sorts of esoteric information about the mosque and its mullahs from his memory. None of it seemed useful, although Castillo found what Britton told him fascinating.

Castillo had kept looking at his watch and when fifteen minutes had passed he decided to wait one more minute before calling Secretary Hall and telling him there had been no contact from the FBI.

He was actually watching the sweep second hand on his wristwatch waiting for it to go back to twelve when the interview room door opened.

"Chief," one of the Homicide Bureau detectives said, "there's a guy from the FBI out here looking for a Secret Service Agent Castillo."

Kramer looked at Castillo, who made a wry face, and then gestured to the detective to bring him in.

A moment later a middle-aged, somewhat portly man with a plastic badge with FBI in large letters on it hanging from the breast pocket of his suit came into the room. He was neatly dressed, but he needed a shave.

He looked around the small room, taking a close look at everybody.

"Hello, Chief Inspector," he said, smiling at Kramer.

Kramer nodded at him.

"I'm looking, Chief, for a Secret Service man, Supervisory Special Agent Castillo. I was told he was in here."

Kramer pointed at Castillo.

"You're Castillo?" the man said. He obviously did not expect to see a supervisory Secret Service agent in an Army officer's uniform.

"Yes, I am," Castillo said. "Who are you?"

"I'm Alexander Stuart, the Philadelphia FBI SAC."

"Be right with you, Mr. Stuart," Castillo said as he took out his cellular and pushed an autodial key.

"Castillo, Mr. Secretary. The Philadelphia FBI SAC just walked into the room "I haven't had a chance to talk to him, Mr. Secretary "Yes, Mr. Secretary, I'll get back to you just as soon as I've had a chance to talk to him."

He put the telephone back in his pocket and looked at SAC Stuart.

"It would seem, Mr. Castillo, that there's been some sort of a misunderstanding," Stuart said.

"No misunderstanding. I needed some information and I needed it right then. Your duty officer wouldn't-or couldn't-give it to me and your counterterrorism man told me he'd talk to me when he came in in the morning. I couldn't wait that long so I called Washington."

"Apparently, it wasn't made clear to either of my agents how important this matter actually is," Stuart said. "What's it all about?"

"What this is all about is that I asked for some information and your people wouldn't give it to me. I need those names, Mr. Stuart, and I need them now."

"Special Agent Lutherberg, who heads my counterterrorism section, is on his way to the office. If he's not there already. I'll have those names for you very shortly."

Castillo grunted.

"I need some additional cooperation from the FBI," Castillo said.

"Which is?"

"As soon as we have the names, and the photographs, I want to run them-right now-past the Spartan School of Aeronautics in Tulsa, Oklahoma. I need to know (a) if they were students there about the time Chief Inspector Kramer gave you the surveillance photos he had made of them and (b) if they were students at Spartan, what sort of training they had; specifically, if they received training in Boeing 727 aircraft."

"Oh, so that's what this is about! That airliner that went missing in Africa."

Castillo ignored the remark.

"Now, can you get in touch with your Tulsa office directly, send them the photos and the names over your net, and have them go out to Spartan or am I going to have to do that through Washington?"

"I can contact them directly, of course," Stuart said.

"Would I offend you if I suggested you call your duty officer and get that started right now?"

Stuart met his eyes.

"That doesn't offend me, Mr. Castillo," he said. "But the language you used to my duty officer offends me. Offends me very much, frankly. Are you aware that we record all incoming calls after duty hours?"

"I didn't think that was legal unless the calling party is advised that his call will be recorded," Castillo said. "But if you've got a tape of my conversation with your duty officer, why don't you send itthe entire conversation, not just my intemperate language -to Director Schmidt?"

Stuart tried and failed to stare Castillo down, then looked away, to Chief Inspector Kramer. "Chief, is there a telephone I can use?"

"Schneider," Chief Kramer said.

Sergeant Betty Schneider, with a wholly unintended display of her upper thighs, slid off the table.

"Right this way, Mr. Stuart," she said.

When the door had closed after them, Detective Jack Britton pointed to Castillo, looked at Miller, and said, admiringly, "Hey, bro, your white boy pal is a real hard-ass, ain't he?"

[FIVE]

Office of the Commissioner

Police Administration Building

8th and Race Streets

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

0345 10 June 2005

Police Commissioner Ralph J. Kellogg walked into his outer office, said good morning to Chief Inspector Kramer, Majors Castillo and Miller, Detective Jack Britton, and Sergeant Betty Schneider, who were sitting in chairs waiting for him, and waved them into his office.

Captain Jack Hanrahan, Kellogg's executive officer, waited until everybody was inside, then pulled the door closed.

Both Kellogg and Hanrahan were shaven, wearing suits and stiffly starched white shirts, and were obviously fully awake, although it was less than twenty minutes since Chief Inspector Kramer had called the commissioner at his home and suggested they needed to talk.

"Okay, Dutch," Kellogg said, "where are we?"

"Between Britton and Castillo, Commissioner, and with the somewhat reluctant cooperation of the FBI, we've IDed the people we think stole the airplane. They were here, at Britton's mosque."

"Is that going to help you find the airplane?" Kellogg asked Castillo, but then, before Castillo could reply, asked: "What's with the uniform? First step in declaring martial law?"

"I've been at Fort Bragg, Commissioner-and I'm about to go back there-to explain the uniform. And I have reason to believe we have located the airplane."

"You either have or you haven't. Which?"

"A source which has previously been right on the money has told me he's almost certainly located it. What I'll be doing at Fort Bragg is helping to set up the operation to neutralize it."

"What source?"

I was afraid you were going to ask that.

"Not to go farther than this room, Commissioner?"

Kellogg considered that.

"No. That's over. As I understand the plan, Matt Hall will be here at eight o'clock. Shortly after that, as soon as we've compared notes we're going to see the mayor. I want to be in a position to lay everything on the table in front of him. I now think promising to hold off telling until four this afternoon was a mistake. From now on, starting when Hall gets here, I'm going to tell the mayor everything I know. You understand? Now, what is the source of your information that the airplane has almost certainly been located?"

"Sir, you're going to have to get that from Secretary Hall. I can't give it to you."

"Great!" Kellogg said, visibly angry.

"Commissioner," Chief Inspector Kramer said, "Britton also tells us that there's a lot of talk at his mosque about something going to happen to the Liberty Bell and Constitution Hall."

"You mean the lunatics know?"

"Commissioner, there have been no details," Detective Britton said. "Just nonspecific talk."

"They must know something," Kellogg said. "Which means they know more than I do and a hell of a lot more than the mayor does." He paused and then went on, "Were you able to come up with a connection between Britton's mosque and the people who cleaned airplanes at Lease-Aire?"

"No, sir," Sergeant Betty Schneider said. "We haven't been able to find a direct connection. None of the names connected. So what they're working on now is relatives and known associates."

"Most of the people at the mosque, Commissioner," Britton explained, "have rap sheets for drugs and/or theft. Which would keep them from getting airport work permits. But if they wanted to snoop around this airplane company:"

"Lease-Aire," Castillo furnished.

": they could send a brother or sister, or the guy next door, who is clean and could get an airport work permit:"

Commissioner Kellogg held up his hand to cut him off.

"I get it," he said. "And checking that out takes time, right?"

"Yes, sir," Betty and Britton said, almost together.

"We don't have any time," Kellogg said. He looked at Britton. "If you went back to the mosque, what do you think you could find out?"

"Not much, sir. I can't ask too many questions."

"Who at the mosque would know?"

"The mullahs."

"And if we hauled them in, what would we learn?"

"Not much. They know all about the Fifth Amendment; they claim it if we ask if it's raining."

"How many mullahs?"

"There's one head man," Britton said. "Abdul Khatami, formerly Clyde Matthews, and then:"

"Has this guy got a sheet?" Commissioner Kellogg interrupted.

Britton answered first with his hands, mimicking the unrolling of a long scroll.

"Before he converted, Clyde was a very bad boy," Britton said. "He was in and out of the slam from the time he was fifteen. A lot of drugs, but some heavy stuff, too, armed robbery, attempted murder, etcetera. He was doing five-to-ten in the federal slam-for cashing Social Security checks he 'found'-when he converted. So far as I know, he's been clean since; he sends the faithful out to raise money for the cause."

"How many more mullahs would be likely to know something about the Liberty Bell?"

"Three, maybe four-no more than four."

"You have their names and where we can find them?"

"Yes, sir. But:"

"Send Highway to pick them all up, one at a time. Lots of sirens, lots of noise. I want it known that we've picked them up. Keep them moving between districts, no more than an hour in each district. Dutch, you work out the details."

"What are we charging them with?" Chief Inspector Kramer asked.

Commissioner Kellogg ignored the question.

"Your people will interrogate them, Dutch. With Britton and Major Miller watching through a one-way glass. Northeast Detectives is probably as good a place as any to do that."

Chief Inspector Kramer nodded.

"Sir," Britton said. "If I'm held much later than eight in the morning and this is going to take longer than that:"

"You're not going back undercover, period," the commissioner said.

"Sir, I'm the best chance we have to learn anything at the mosque," Britton argued.

"What's the other guy's name who's in there with you?"

"Parker, sir. He's a good man, but he hasn't been under long enough for them to trust him."

"Maybe they will start to trust him, once they figure out you've been in there," Kellogg said. "And this way, you get to stay alive. I want you available until this thing goes down."

"But, sir:"

"That's it, Detective Britton," Kellogg said, flatly. "That's what's going to happen."

"Yes, sir."

"And this way, when Hall and I go see the mayor and he turns to me and asks what I'm doing about this I can truthfully tell him we think we know who the guys who stole that airplane are, that we've rounded up the mullahs and pulled you out to interrogate them. Okay?"

"Yes, sir," Britton said.

"And we might as well start on getting a judge to authorize wiretaps on the mosque and every phone that looks promising. That'll take some time, but we should do it."

"Commissioner, we-Homeland Security and the Secret Service-have blanket authority to tap in a terrorist situation like this. All we have to do is report it to a federal judge later."

"I didn't know that," Kellogg said, surprised. "You can authorize that?"

"As a supervisory special agent, sure."

"If you were to ask for the help of the Philadelphia Department to help you put in your taps, I'd be happy to oblige."

"Thank you, sir."

Kellogg studied Castillo. "So you're a Green Beret major."

"Yes, sir, I am."

"And a supervisory special agent of the Secret Service? You told me you had the credentials, but:"

"It's on the up-and-up," Castillo said. "I was sworn in."

"How do you keep who you really are straight?"

"With difficulty, sir," Castillo said and glanced at Betty Schneider.

She shook her head.

"When I talked to Matt Hall earlier, Castillo," Commissioner Kellogg said, "he said he was going to come as quietly as he can. What did he mean by that?"

"Usually, Commissioner, when he goes to a city where the Secret Service has an office they'll send people-usually four to six, in a couple of GMC Yukon XLs-to back up his personal security detail. That attracts a lot of attention. If he said he's coming quietly, he doesn't want that attention. I don't know this, but what I think is that they called the Philadelphia office and told them to send a car-not a Yukon-to meet the plane. They may not have told-probably didn't tell-Philadelphia that the secretary is coming."

"What's his personal detail?"

"Two Secret Service guys. This morning, I know it will be Joel Isaacson-who is more than a bodyguard and who is usually with the secretary. And almost certainly his partner, Tom McGuire, who is also more than a bodyguard."

"Are you going to the airport to meet him? With Sergeant Schneider?"

"No, sir. I'm just about through here. I'm going to Fort Bragg. As I said before, Secretary Hall wants me to be in on the planning to neutralize the airplane."

"Miller, where are you going to connect with Secretary Hall?"

"I don't know, sir," Miller said and looked at Castillo for guidance.

"I think you should meet him at the airport," Castillo said. "Even better would be you and Sergeant Schneider."

"Nobody's had much sleep. Will you be okay with that, Schneider?" Kellogg asked.

"Yes, sir. I'll be all right."

"Okay, then, that's done," Commissioner Kellogg said. "Miller and Schneider can bring him up to speed on the way in from the airport. You're going to the airport right now, Castillo?"

"Just as soon as my sergeant gets here from the arsenal. He may already be here."

"Okay, let's get started on hauling in these lunatics and putting in the taps. We may get lucky, despite what Britton thinks. I sure as hell hope so."

[SIX]

In the unmarked car on the way to the airport, Castillo called Secretary Hall again.

"Sir, I regret the hour but you said I should keep you in the loop."

"What's going on, Charley?"

"The commo gear here has been set up and linked with the one in your office and Bragg, so you'll have it when you get here. Dick Miller and Sergeant Schneider, who know what's going on here, will meet your plane and be available while you're here. There's nothing else I can do here, so I'm headed back for Bragg to meet General McNab. I'm on my way to the airport now."

"How are you doing with the FBI?"

"The FBI here has sent the photographs and the names of the two Somalians who were here over their net to the FBI office in Tulsa. The SAC tells me they will run them past the people at Spartan right away. They-Tulsa-told him they know the Spartan director of security; he's retired FBI. So it shouldn't take much time to confirm these are the guys we're looking for. It may already have been done. I'll bet my last two bucks that it's our guys."

"We're betting a lot more than your last two bucks," Hall said.

"The commissioner decided to bring in the mullahs from the temple to see if we can learn something," Charley said to change the subject. "He also wanted to tap their phones and was going to start getting the necessary warrants from a judge. I told him we had blanket authority to tap without a warrant. Do we?"

"Christ, you told him that and didn't know?"

"Joel told me the Secret Service did. Or I got that impression. I wasn't paying as much attention as I should have been. I'll take the heat, sir. I thought the taps-as soon as they can be installed-were important."

"We have a ten-day authority, starting when we tell a federal judge. But we're required to tell a federal judge first. If we can justify the tap-reasonable cause to believe-to the judge within the ten days, we can keep the tap. Otherwise, we can't use anything we intercept. You might want to write that down, Charley."

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir."

"Joel's on his way over here now. I'll have him call a judge."

"Yes, sir. Thank you."

"What the hell were you thinking, Charley?"

"That we're running out of time, sir."

"Well, I can't argue with that. Call me as soon as you've talked with General McNab."

"Yes, sir."

As Betty drove the unmarked Crown Victoria up to the Lear, Castillo said, "You guys get on the plane." He looked at Miller. "And you take a walk, Dick. I need a private word with Sergeant Schneider."

When Charley and Betty were alone in the car, she looked at him and then away.

"You wanted to know about Karl Gossinger," he said.

"It's not important," she said.

"I was born in Germany. My mother's name was Gossinger. My father was an American officer who was killed in Vietnam. They weren't married, he never knew about me, and I never knew about him until my mother was about to die. When they heard about me, my father's family brought me to this country and I took his name. Not even Dick knows that story. Fernando does, but hardly anybody else. But I'm considered a German by the Germans and got a passport, etcetera. It's useful in my line of work."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I don't want to go back to Sergeant Schneider and Major Castillo."

"Charley, I don't even remember the last time I had any sleep. I can't deal with this now. And I probably won't be able to-won't want to-deal with it when all this is over. You're just too much for me. You don't know who you are, how am I supposed to? Get on the airplane."

"Do I get kissed again?"

"No, you don't!"

"Okay. I had to give it a shot," Charley said. "I won't bother you again."

He got out of the Crown Victoria and was halfway to the Lear when she called, "Charley!"

He turned.

"You forgot your phone."

"Shit," he said and trotted toward the car.

I must have missed my goddamned pocket when I put it away.

He patted his shirt pocket. The phone was in it.

Betty hadn't gotten out of the Crown Victoria but she had pushed the passenger door open.

He slid onto the seat.

She touched his face with her hand and then kissed him as she had the first time. Not passionately, not coldly: tenderly.

Then she put her hand on his chest and pushed.

"Now get on the goddamned airplane," she said, "and, for Christ's sake, be careful!"

Miller was standing by the door of the Lear.

"Can I go back to the car now? Your private tete-a-tete with the lady over?"

"Not one more fucking word, Dick!" Castillo said and then went up the steps of the Lear.