Covert Warriors

TWO

The President’s Study The White House 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, N.W. Washington, D.C. 1225 20 April 2007

When Secret Service Agent Mark Douglas showed Beiderman and Naylor into the room, Supervisory Special Agent Robert J. Mulligan, Press Secretary Clemens McCarthy, and the President were standing before a map board. It held a map of Mexico.

“What the hell is McNab doing in Afghanistan?” the President greeted them less than warmly. “I need him here now.”

“As you know, Mr. President,” Naylor responded, “a substantial portion of General McNab’s command is in Afghanistan. He spends a good deal of his time there.”

“What about this other Special Forces guy, McCool? Is he any good?”

“If you are referring to General McNab’s deputy, General O’Toole, Mr. President-”

“Okay. O’Toole. Is this O’Toole any good?”

“General O’Toole is a fine officer, Mr. President,” Naylor said.

The President looked between Beiderman and Naylor, and said, “I’d rather have McNab, but you go with what you’ve got, right?”

“Yes, sir,” Naylor and Beiderman said almost simultaneously.

“I had Clemens call O’Toole and tell him to drop everything and get up here,” Clendennen said. “When’s he due, Clemens?”

“He should already have landed at Andrews, Mr. President,” McCarthy said.

“Well, while we’re waiting for him, let me bring you up to speed on what’s going on around here and how I’m going to deal with it,” the President said.

The sound of helicopter rotors penetrated the sound-insulated walls of the White House.

“That has to be him,” the President decided out loud. “We’ll wait. I hate to explain things over and over.”

Major General Terrence O’Toole was shown into the President’s study. He was wearing a somewhat mussed camouflage-pattern battle-dress uniform.

He saluted and said, “Pardon my appearance, sir.”

“You look, General,” the President said, “as if you’re ready to go to work. No apologies are necessary.”

“So that’s the plan, gentlemen,” the President said. “What do you think?”

“Mr. President, I think it’s brilliant,” Clemens McCarthy promptly said.

“What you think, McCarthy,” the President immediately shot him down, “is irrelevant. You’re a press agent. What is it they say? ‘You might want to write that down.’”

“Mr. President,” General Naylor said, “with all possible respect, sir, I have a few questions. Possibly because I missed some things as you laid out your plan.”

“I expected you and McCool here to have questions, General. I’m the Commander in Chief, but I’m not a soldier. What didn’t you understand?”

“As I understand the situation, Mr. President, there are two sites for the exchange of this fellow Abrego for Colonel Ferris.”

“No. There’s only one. At the Oaxaca State Prison.”

He turned to the map. Using a ruler as a pointer, he aimed it at the map.

“Here,” Clendennen said. “It’s apparently in the middle of goddamn nowhere.”

Naylor said: “Excuse me, sir, but I thought I understood you to say that there has been a message from the kidnappers stating they wanted the exchange to take place at the Juarez International Airport.”

“And I thought I had made it perfectly clear that if we did that, we’d play right into their hands. The helicopter would land there, the two U.S. Marshals on it would find themselves outnumbered by Mexican banditos, who would take this man Abrego from them, and then either wave bye-bye or kill them, too.” As he looked around the room at everyone, he added, “The exchange will take place at the Oaxaca State Prison. Clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Naylor pursued, “but may I respectfully suggest that these people do expect the helicopter to appear at the Juarez airfield at oh-nine-hundred tomorrow. If-when-it does not, then what?”

“Then they will figure out that they haven’t made a sucker out of Joshua Ezekiel Clendennen.”

“That may put Colonel Ferris at risk, Mr. President,” Naylor said, carefully.

“He’s already at risk, isn’t he, General?” Clendennen responded. “You ever hear what Patton said, General? Or was it MacArthur?”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow you, Mr. President.”

“‘Never take counsel of your fears’ is what one of them-now that I think about it, it was MacArthur-said. You never heard that?”

“I’m familiar with it, sir,” Naylor said.

“Mr. President, may I make a suggestion?” General O’Toole asked.

“That’s what you’re here for, General,” the President said.

“As I understand your plan, sir, it is your intention to send U.S. Marshals to establish contact with the Mexican police chief Pena.”

The President nodded, and gestured for O’Toole to get to his point.

“I think it might be best to send a special operator to do that, sir. In addition to setting up the schedule for the exchange, he would be able to reconnoiter the terrain. That would be valuable in case there was trouble.”

“Presumably, you have a specific special operator in mind, General?”

“Yes, sir,” O’Toole said, looked at Naylor, then went on: “I don’t know if General Naylor would agree with sending a special operator, or with my recommendation of who that should be.”

“That’s moot, General,” the President said. “I’m making the decisions here. I think sending a special operator instead of a Marshal is a good idea-hell, send in all of Gray Fox. Now what you have to do is convince me that the man you want to send is the right one.”

“I was thinking of Mr. Victor D’Alessandro, Mr. President.”

“Mister D’Alessandro? That sounds as if he’s a civilian. I don’t want anybody from the goddamn CIA involved in this. Or from the DEA or any other place like that.”

“He’s a retired chief warrant officer, Mr. President, now a DAC-a Department of the Army civilian employee-working for SPECOPSCOM.”

“And in your opinion he would be the best man to send?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I concur, Mr. President,” Naylor said.

“Well, that’s nice to know,” the President said, sarcastically. “We’ve really had entirely too much dissension in the ranks around here lately.”

Clendennen let that sink in, and then went on: “Okay. Then this guy D’Alessandro goes. Mulligan, get Secretary Cohen on the phone. Tell her. . Hell, tell her to get over here. She can’t be kept out of this; she already knows too much.”

Mulligan picked up the red presidential circuit telephone.

“But that’s all,” the President said. “I don’t want every idiot and his twin brother involved in this. Nobody else is to learn of it unless I personally clear it.” He looked around the room again. “Everybody got that?”

“Mr. President,” Naylor said, “do I correctly infer that you don’t plan to tell the DCI what you’re going to do?”

“Correct.”

“And the director of National Intelligence, Mr. Ellsworth?” Naylor pursued.

“Correct.”

“And Vice President Montvale?”

“Especially not Montvale!” Clendennen flared. “And you damn well know why.”

“I’m afraid, sir, that I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Naylor said.

“The hell you don’t!” the President snapped.

“Sir, I don’t.”

Both Naylor and Beiderman were about convinced that Naylor had just pushed the President over the edge.

Clendennen’s face tightened and whitened, and he opened his mouth as if to speak and then changed his mind. When he finally spoke, he apparently had himself under control.

“I don’t know why I’m arguing with you about this, General,” the President said. “The decision whether to involve the Vice President in this is mine-and mine alone-to make. I have decided not to tell him. Clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“There is a precedent,” Clendennen then said, reasonably. “I don’t think anyone would argue that my trying to get Colonel Ferris back from those who hold him captive is anywhere near as important as the atomic bomb. Still, President Roosevelt didn’t think Vice President Truman had the need to know we had the atom bomb and elected not to tell him. And I don’t think Vice President Montvale has the need to know about what we’re about to do, and I have elected not to tell him. Any questions, General?”

“No, sir,” Naylor said.

“Okay. Now let’s get to the nuts and bolts of this operation. How are we going to get this civilian, what’s his name again?”

“D’Alessandro, Mr. President,” O’Toole furnished. “Victor D’Alessandro.”

“How are we going to get this man D’Alessandro from where he is-and by the way, where is he? Shouldn’t he be here? — to the Oaxaca State Prison?”

After a moment, O’Toole realized the President’s question was not rhetorical.

“Sir, I would recommend the use of a Black Hawk to get Mr. D’Alessandro from where he is-El Paso-to the prison,” O’Toole said.

“Why not fly him there in a regular airplane?” the President challenged. “There’s an airport right by it.”

He picked up the ruler again and pointed at the map with it. “Right here. How the fuck do you pronounce that again?”

Clemens McCarthy correctly pronounced Xoxocotlan for the President.

“What is that, Inca? Incan?” the President asked.

“That’s certainly what it sounds like, Mr. President,” McCarthy said.

The President turned to O’Toole.

“I’m waiting, General.”

“Sir?”

“For you to tell me why Whatsisname is better off flying to the prison in a helicopter instead of using an airplane to fly to the airport with the unpronounceable name.”

“Yes, sir. Sir, for the same reason I gave before. It will permit him to reconnoiter the area; he can do that better in a Black Hawk.”

“Yeah, I suppose he can,” the President conceded. “Now, where are we going to get the helicopter?”

“I would suggest, sir, that since we’re going to use Night Stalker birds to carry the Gray Fox-”

“‘Night Stalker birds’?” the President interrupted. “What the hell are they? Is that?”

“It’s how we refer to the rotary wing aircraft-the helicopters-assigned to the 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment, sir.”

“I see that I’m going to have to get used to the terminology you people use. I’m the Commander in Chief, and I should know it, but sometimes I think you and General Naylor are speaking a foreign language.”

“I can see where it might be a little confusing, sir,” O’Toole said.

“Okay. I’ve got several questions. What kind of a helicopter are we talking about?”

“UH-60Fs, sir. They’re specially modified Black Hawks for missions like this.”

“And they have the range to fly to this prison from El Paso?”

“Yes, sir. I believe they do.”

“You believe they do? Don’t you know?”

“I always like to consult the experts, Mr. President,” O’Toole said.

“Who would that be?”

“Colonel Arthur Kingsolving, sir. The 160th Regiment’s commander.”

“Well, why isn’t he here?”

Naylor offered: “We can have Colonel Kingsolving here in flight time from Fort Campbell, Mr. President.”

“See, that’s what I mean,” the President said. “I sometimes think you’re speaking a foreign language. What the hell does ‘flight time from Fort Campbell’ mean?”

“Colonel Kingsolving can be here, sir,” Naylor said, “in the time it will take him to fly from Fort Campbell. The 160th is stationed at Fort Campbell, sir.”

“Why aren’t they stationed at Fort Bragg, with SPECOPSCOM?” the President asked. “What the hell are they doing way out in Kansas?”

“Fort Campbell is in Kentucky, Mr. President,” Naylor said.

“The President knows where Fort Campbell is, General,” McCarthy said.

“Answer the question, General,” Clendennen snapped.

“I wasn’t privy to the decision to station the 160th at Campbell, sir,” Naylor said. “It was made by the chief of staff.”

“And he didn’t even ask you, or O’Toole here, where you thought such an important organization should be stationed?”

“No, sir. He did not.”

“Did you-or General O’Toole-complain when the chief of staff put this organization in the middle of Kentucky instead of Fort Bragg, where it should be?”

“No, sir.”

“Why not?”

“It was in the nature of an order, sir. Soldiers are expected to obey their orders, not protest them.”

“An admirable philosophy,” Clendennen said. “I wish I knew how to instill it in the people around me.” He paused. “Okay. So where are we?”

“We were talking about getting Colonel Kingsolving here, Mr. President,” Naylor said.

“No. That’s already been decided. The question is how. Is there any reason he couldn’t come here in a Black Hawk?”

“No, sir. The flight time would be longer, sir,” O’Toole said.

“I’d already figured that out, General, believe it or not,” the President said. “Get him on the phone and tell him to come here in a Black Hawk. I’d like a good look at one. Mulligan, clear it for him to land on the West Lawn.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Mr. President,” Naylor said, “I would recommend having a Black Hawk sent to El Paso from Fort Campbell to take Mr. D’Alessandro to the prison.”

“Do it,” Clendennen ordered.

“And that would raise the question of Mr. D’Alessandro’s orders, sir. How is he to deal with this Mexican police chief?”

“If this fellow is as good as you and O’Toole say he is, he should be able to figure that out himself, wouldn’t you say?”

“Sir, as General O’Toole pointed out, he will have two missions. The first, he will have to know about that. That is, the arrival of Abrego at the prison. That’s the overt mission. The covert mission is to determine the best way of liberating Colonel Ferris. How much do you want O’Toole to tell him about that?”

The President gave that question thirty seconds of serious consideration.

“I was about to say, leave that to General O’Toole’s good judgment. He has experience in these matters. But then I realized I want General O’Toole here with me to answer the questions about this and that, ones that will inevitably arise. So, what I think we should do, General Naylor, is have you go to El Paso to give this man D’Alessandro his marching orders.”

“General, my appearance at Fort Bliss would raise questions. .”

“Who said anything about Fort Bliss? I want you to go to El Paso.”

“Sir, Fort Bliss abuts El Paso. There is an Army airfield there, Biggs Army Airfield. If I went into El Paso International instead of Biggs, questions would be raised.”

“Well, you don’t have to travel in that Gulfstream of yours-going there on a regular airline would be one way of avoiding attention, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, sir. If you think it’s best, I can go commercial.”

“No,” the President then said. “There would be questions about that, too; why you weren’t traveling in your Gulfstream. Besides, it will be quicker going and coming, if I need you back here. So here’s your marching orders, General: Get down to El Paso. General O’Toole will have this man D’Alessandro waiting for you, and he will have arranged for a Black Hawk to take him to meet this Mexican cop. You will give D’Alessandro his marching orders, and as soon as he’s on his way to Mexico, you come back here. Got it?”

“Yes, sir. And after Mr. D’Alessandro meets with the Mexican policeman, what should I tell him to do?”

“Tell him to go back to El Paso and await further orders. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll leave right away.”

“Yeah,” the President said. “Have a nice flight, General.”

“Thank you, sir.”