There would be a muted beep, he would drop his eyes to the screen and see that Mrs. Naylor was inquiring:

To which, without causing the conference to come to a complete stop, he could reply:

The next development-which he thought was probably inevitable-was the realization that since he was connected to the Internet, his personal e-mail was thus available.

The purpose of the conferences was to make sure everybody knew what everybody else was thinking, had done, or was planning to do. Very often General Naylor knew what most of the conferees were going to say when they stood up. Listening to something he already knew-or at least assigning his full attention to it-was a waste of time. Time that could be better spent reading what, for example, his sons thought would interest him.

Both of his sons were in the Army and in Iraq. The oldest was a lieutenant colonel who had followed his father and grandfather into Armor. The youngest was a captain who commanded a Special Forces A-Team engaged in rounding up Saddam Hussein loyalists.

Both of them-and he was very proud of the way they handled this-routinely sent him information they thought he might not otherwise get-even though everything military in Iraq was under his command-and would like to have. The information they sent met two criteria: It was not classified; and it contained not the slightest hint of criticism of any officer.

There were many periods in many conferences when Naylor felt justified in reading e-mails from his sons instead of hearing one colonel or general explain something for the fifth time to a colonel or general who just didn't seem to be able to understand what he was being told.

The conferees had no idea what the commanding general might be typing on his IBB, only that he had diverted his attention from them to it.

The little box in the lower right corner of the laptop screen flicked brightly for an instant and then reported:

YOU HAVE A NEW E-MAIL FROM CHARLEY@CASTILLO. COM

Charley Castillo had a unique relationship on several levels with Allan B. Naylor, General, U.S. Army, Commanding General of the United States Cen-tral Command, any one of which would have given him access to Naylor's private e-mail address.

One, which Naylor often thought was the most important, was that both he and Elaine considered him a third son-the middle son, so to speak-even though there was no blood connection between them. They had known him since he was twelve, when Charley had become an orphan.

He was also officially one of Naylor's officers. The manning chart of Cent-Corn showed under the J-5, the Special Activities Section, and under the SAS, the Special Assignments Section, a list of names of officers and enlisted men on special assignments. One of them read

"J-5" stood for "Joint Staff Division 5, Special Operations." The Special Activities Section of J-5 had to do with things known only to a very few people, and the Special Assignments Section was sort of the holding tank-they had to appear on the manning chart somewhere.

General Naylor had had nothing to do with Major Castillo's assignment to what was colloquially known as "Jay-Five Sassas," although many people-including, he suspected, his wife and sons-suspected he did. Castillo had been assigned there routinely when he came back from Afghanistan. It was an assignment appropriate for someone of his rank and experience.

General Naylor, however, had had everything to do with Major Castillo's present Jay-Five Sassas assignment.

General Naylor was personally acquainted with Secretary of Homeland Security Matt Hall. They had met in Vietnam when Naylor had been a captain and Hall a sergeant and had stayed in touch and become close friends over the years as Naylor had risen in the Army hierarchy and Hall had become first a congressman and then governor of North Carolina and then secretary of homeland security.

Hall, over a beer in the bar of the Army-Navy Club in Washington, had asked Naylor, "Allan, you don't just happen to know of a hell of a good linguist with all the proper security clearances, do you?"

"How do you define 'good,' Matt?"

"Preferably, male and single-I need somebody around all the time and that's awkward with a female-or a married person of either gender."

Major C. G. Castillo was the next day placed on Indefinite Temporary Duty with the Office of the Secretary of Homeland Security, with the understanding between the general and the secretary being that if he wasn't what Hall needed, or they didn't get along, Castillo would be returned to MacDill.

Two weeks after Castillo had gone to Washington, Hall had telephoned Naylor about Castillo.

"How's Castillo doing?" Naylor had asked.

"Until about an hour ago, I thought he was just what the doctor ordered," Hall said.

"What happened an hour ago?"

"I found out he's living in the Mayflower. How does he afford that on a major's pay?"

"Didn't I mention that? He doesn't have to live on his major's pay."

"No, you didn't," Hall said. "Why not?"

"I didn't think it was important. Is it?"

"Yeah. Washington is an expensive place to live. Now I won't have to worry about him having to go to Household Finance to make ends meet. Can I keep him, Allan?"

"For as long as you need him."

"Would you have any objection if I put him in civilian clothing most of the time and called him my executive assistant or something like that?"

"He'll be doing more than translating?"

"Uh-huh. Any problem with that?"

"He's yours, Matt. I'm glad it's worked out."

General Naylor clicked on the read button without thinking about it. The laptop screen filled up almost instantly.

There were several things wrong with Charley's message, which caused Naylor to frown thoughtfully, and which, in turn, caused half a dozen of the people at the conference table to wonder what had come over that goddamned IBB to cause the commanding general to frown thoughtfully.