Covert Warriors

THREE

Apartment 606 The Watergate Apartments 2639 I Street, N.W. Washington, D.C. 1615 18 April 2007

Roscoe J. Danton, of the Washington Times-Post Writers Syndicate, and John David Parker, the newly appointed director of public relations of the LCBF Corporation, had tested their theory that the President’s firing of his press secretary was now old news and that it was therefore safe for Porky to move about Washington without having to dodge the White House Press Corps by having a drink at the Old Ebbitt Grill.

There had been half a dozen members of that elite body in the bar refreshing themselves after Mr. Clemens McCarthy’s afternoon briefing. Only two of them had even acknowledged Porky’s presence with so much as a nod.

Porky was indeed yesterday’s news.

That test had told them that it was safe for Porky to go back to his apartment in the Verizon, which had the added benefit that he would no longer be Roscoe’s roommate.

It wasn’t that Roscoe didn’t like Porky. Surprising to both of them was the fact that they had become quite close since President Clendennen had ordered Porky off his helicopter and Roscoe had offered him a ride home from Langley. But Porky’s presence in the apartment obviously prevented Roscoe from entertaining overnight female guests.

As Roscoe thought of it, he was a lover, not an exhibitionist.

So after having a second Bloody Mary in the Old Ebbitt, they had taken a cab to Roscoe’s apartment in the Watergate so that Porky could pick up his things.

The phone was ringing when they walked in.

“What the hell was that all about?” Porky asked when Roscoe had hung up.

“I was about to say I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”

“That would be a lot funnier if I hadn’t heard it before,” Porky replied.

“But then I realized you’re sort of a probationary member of the Merry Outlaws,” Roscoe went on, “so I guess you get a pass. That was J. William ‘Willy the Lion’ Leon. He’s the warden of the ADMAX prison in Colorado.”

“And?”

Roscoe told him what Willy the Lion had told him.

“So what are you going to do?”

Roscoe consulted his cell phone’s address book and dialed a number.

“Roscoe J. Danton of the Times-Post for the attorney general. .

“Well, I’m sorry he’s not available at the moment. When he becomes available, will you be good enough to tell him I tried to call him before I went on Wolf News to tell J. Pastor Jones’s three million viewers the attorney general’s version of the story I’ve got that he personally just moved a guy doing life without parole in Florence ADMAX for killing three DEA agents to a country club in Texas. .

“Yeah, I’ll hold for a minute.”

Roscoe met Porky’s eyes.

Porky grinned knowingly as Roscoe, then said: “And how are you this afternoon, Mr. Attorney General?

“What have I got? I’ll tell you.”

He did so.

“You know I can’t tell you where I got that, Mr. Attorney General. That would be what they call revealing a source. I don’t do that. .

“Whether you find it hard to believe or not, Mr. Attorney General, I know it’s true. I even have the prisoner’s name. One Felix Abrego. .

“Will I do you a favor? That depends on the favor. .

“Yeah, as a favor, you’ve always been straight with me, I can sit on this for a couple of hours-say, until Andy McClarren’s Straight Scoop goes on Wolf News at nine-while you get to the bottom of this. Let me give you my cell phone number.”

He broke the connection and turned to Porky Parker. “Whatever it is, Porky, I just touched a nerve.”

“Do you have to call me ‘Porky’?”

“If I didn’t, I’d have to kill you,” Danton said.

“Oh, shit,” Parker replied.