Beiderman nodded.

"Have a drink, Fred," Hall said. "You're probably going to need one, and, when you write your memoirs, I'd rather you didn't recall that we were drinking and you weren't."

Beiderman looked at Hall and then at the president, who was holding his Maker's Mark, then shrugged.

"Why not?"

The president pressed the button that would summon the steward and then looked at Beiderman.

"When I became annoyed that no one in the entire intelligence community- no one, mind you-seemed to be able to locate the airplane stolen in Angola," the president began, "I called in Natalie and Matt and:"

[TWO]

303 Concord Circle

Bala Cynwyd, Pennsylvania

1731 9 June 2005

The "Yes, sir" that Major C. G. Castillo said to his cellular telephone was more a reflex action than a reply to Secretary of Homeland Security Matthew Hall. Castillo had heard the click of the breaking connection a split second after Hall had said, "I'll have to get back to you, Charley."

As he slipped the telephone into his shirt pocket, he saw that Major General H. Richard Miller, Sr., had come into the corridor where Charley had gone to take the call after leaving the living room.

"I was not trying to overhear your call, Major," the general said. "But I would like a word with you in private."

"Major"? What is he up to now?

"Yes, sir. Of course."

General Miller opened a door and motioned Charley ahead of him. Inside was a small, book-lined, very neat study. There were a dozen framed photographs on the bookcase shelves. One was of the general-then a major-and Colonel Colin Powell, obviously taken in Vietnam. There were three photographs of Dick Miller. One was of him in dress uniform standing with his father at West Point taken-Castillo knew; he had taken the picture-just before the final retreat parade. A second showed Miller getting his captain's bars from General Miller and the third showed General Miller, now retired and in civilian clothing, pinning on Dick's major's leaves.

"This will do," General Miller said, closing the door. "Please feel free to use my office for any further calls."

"Thank you, sir."

"You'll understand, Major, that I am not asking for information that may be classified."

"Yes, sir?"

"You are obviously in command here and I would like to offer to help with whatever it is you're doing."

"That's very kind of you, General, but I can't think of a thing."

"I understand," General Miller said. "Thank you for your time, Major Castillo."

He turned and started to open the door.

Fuck it! If you can't trust a West Point two-star whose grandfather was at San Juan Hill with the 10th Cavalry:

"General, now give me a minute, please," Castillo said.

General Miller turned around.

"What I'm about to tell you, sir, may not be shared with anyone without my express permission," Castillo said. "Mine or Dick's."

"Then perhaps it would be best if you told me nothing," General Miller said. "Sentiment has no place in matters of security or intelligence."

A lecture. I should have known that was coming.

He still thinks of me as a cadet who almost got himself – and Dick – booted out of West Point and then not only became a Special Forces cowboy promoted before his time but who dragged Dick from the holy family cavalry tradition into the Green Beanies with him.

On the whole, were I Major General Miller I wouldn't like Major Castillo much, either.

"That was Secretary Hall just now, General:"

"Is that who you work for?"

"Yes, sir. But on indefinite TDY. I am still a serving officer. May I go on, sir?"

"Of course. Excuse me."

"Secretary Hall called to tell me that a Gray Fox team which made a Halo insertion to the airfield in Abeche, Chad, has confirmed that the 727 stolen from Luanda has been in Abeche, where it was given new registration numbers and loaded with several fuel bladders."

"May I ask why he thought you should be made privy to that information?"

Lowly majors – especially ones promoted before their time – should not even know what Gray Fox is, right? Much less be "privy" to operational details?

"Because I gave him the initial intel, sir, that the airplane was probably there."

General Miller looked at Castillo for a long moment, almost visibly deciding whether to believe him or not.

Not that he's wondering if I'm lying. He really believes that West Pointers do not lie, cheat, or steal nor tolerate those who do. It's just that, as a general, based on his own experience, he knows that I simply can't have the experience to really know what I'm talking about.

"What is the connection between that missing aircraft and Philadelphia?" General Miller asked, finally. "Can you tell me that?"

"My best intel is that a group of Somalians calling themselves the Holy Legion of Muhammad intends to crash it into the Liberty Bell complex here."

"May I ask where that came from? The Liberty Bell does not seem, symbolism aside, to be a worthwhile target."

"That I can't tell you, General, because we just don't know. But the Gray Fox team confirmed what my source gave me-first, that the airplane was in Chad, that the registration numbers had been changed and fuel bladders placed aboard, and, second, that it had left."

"To what end, Major? Where is the aircraft now?"

"We don't know, sir."

"With the fuel bladders would it have the range to fly here?"

"That's possible, sir. But I think the purpose of the bladders is to have a large amount of fuel-either JP-4 or gasoline-aboard as explosive material. They're trying to duplicate the effectiveness of the big birds the terrorists turned into bombs on 9/11 with the smaller 727 that, being old and common, is effectively off everyone's radar."

"And you believe this aircraft is headed for Philadelphia?"

Yes, sir.

"And that's why you're here?"

"Our source believes there is probably a connection between the Holy Legion of Muhammad and someone here in Philadelphia. Commissioner Kellogg's trying to help us find it, if there is one."

"Does Kellogg know about the airplane? Your belief that it will be used as a flying bomb?"

"Yes, sir. And after 1615 tomorrow, he's going to tell the mayor."

"The mayor doesn't know?" General Miller asked, surprised.

"Not yet, sir."

"He's the mayor!"

In other words, the commanding general, right?

"The decision not to tell the mayor was Commissioner Kellogg's, sir."

"The mayor should be informed," General Miller said.

Jesus Christ, is that an announcement that he's going to tell him?

"I really believe that's Commissioner Kellogg's decision to make, sir."

General Miller thought that over and finally nodded.

"Yes, it is," he said. "And Dick's role in all this? Can you tell me about that?"

"CentCom-General Naylor-put him on TDY to Secretary Hall, sir. We're working together on this."

"Why was he relieved for cause in Angola?"

"For doing his duty, sir. And that unjustified relief is being dealt with. There will be nothing on his record about Angola except that he received a letter of commendation from the president."

General Miller considered that for a moment and then asked, "Is there something I can do to be helpful?"

"Not that I can think of, sir," Castillo said. "Except: you may tell Commissioner Kellogg that I have told you what I have. I don't know the nature of your relationship with him:"

"We have been friends for a very long time."

"Perhaps you might be helpful to him."

"Yes," General Miller said, thoughtfully.

He was about to say something else when there was a knock on the door.

"Hello? Major Castillo?" Sergeant Betty Schneider called, softly.

General Miller opened the door.

"Ah, Sergeant Schneider," he said.