23

THE WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON, D.C.

Corrine had left her office and was about to set out for The Cube when Jess Northrup flagged her down in the parking lot.

“President wants to talk to you,” said the assistant to the chief of staff. “I was calling to you. I guess you didn’t hear.”

“I’m sorry. I guess I didn’t hear,” said Corrine.

“Mustang’s almost ready,” added Northrup as they walked back inside.

“Still going to give me a ride?”

“Soon as I get an engine.”

You are doing a superb job on this, dear,” said McCarthy when she reached his office. The president had ordered his military aides to wait outside so he could talk to her alone. “I have a few questions I was hoping you could answer before I go downstairs to monitor the situation.”

“OK.”

“Is Park doing this himself? Or is the government involved?”

“I don’t know.”

McCarthy ran his fingers through his hair. “I think there is a strong possibility that the government is helping or at least turning a blind eye. I would like to know definitively.”

“How?”

“If you want to know who all the hens are, you’d best grab the rooster.”

“You want us to get Park?”

“If we don’t, I can only assume the South Koreans will. And I would be very surprised if he were able to be candid under such circumstances.” The president folded his arms. “The Japanese, for one, will not trust what he says if he is in Korean custody. It would be best for all concerned if he turned up here. A job for Special Demands, if ever there was one,” added McCarthy.

“All right,” said Corrine. “Dan Slott is pretty upset about the present arrangement.”

“Why is that?”

“I think he thinks I’m interfering with his job.”

“Are you?”

“No. But—”

She stopped, not sure exactly what she wanted to say.

“Pardon the expression, Miss Alston, but that is a pregnant pause if ever I have heard one.”

“You have to admit that the chain of command is confusing,” said Corrine. “And I realize that’s partly by design, but—”

McCarthy gave her his fox smile. “Are you accusing me of confusing my underlings?”

“I think you try and keep people on their toes.”

“I hope so. Don’t worry about Mr. Slott. Keep doing what you are doing.”

“Who’s in charge of the First Team?”

“I am, dear. I am in charge of everyone who works for this government. Their faults are my faults. They can take the credit if they want.”

“But as far as operations go—”

“You are my conscience and oversight in matters related to the Office of Special Demands, and the deputy director of operations of the CIA is in charge of Central Intelligence personnel. I see no confusion.”

Corrine knew she wasn’t going to get more of an answer, and this certainly wasn’t the moment to press him anyway.

“Work with him, dear. He’s a good man.”

“I know that. But I’m not the problem. Sir.”