The Hunters (Presidential Agent 3)

“You’re not going to tell me what the hell it’s all about, Wes?”

“If I knew, I would. I don’t,” Suggins replied.

He pushed the key that would cause the message to appear on the screen of General Naylor’s IBB.

The reply came in a second:

* * *

????????????????????????????

* * *

The translation of that was, “What the hell?”

A moment later, there was another reply:

* * *

OK

* * *

“Jack, reply that the CINC will do,” Suggins said. “And the CINC authorizes the landing of the civilian airplane, if that’s necessary. And for Christ’s sake, keep this quiet.”

“Why do I think you’re not telling me everything you know?”

“Because I’m not,” Suggins said. “Thanks, Jack.”

Then Suggins picked up the telephone and ordered that the CINC’s car be at the front door in five minutes.

[FIVE]

As the sleek white Bombardier/Learjet 45XR taxied up to the tarmac in front of Base Operations, General Allan Naylor could see the pilot. He knew him well. He was Major Carlos G. Castillo, U.S. Army. Naylor could also see who was sitting in the copilot’s seat. He knew him well, too. He was Colonel Jacob Torine, USAF.

That figures, General Naylor thought. A full goddamned Air Force colonel is flying copilot, and Charley—a lousy major—is in the pilot’s seat.

Naylor saw Castillo rise from the pilot’s seat and leave the cockpit. A moment later, the fuselage door began to unfold and in a moment Castillo appeared in the opening. He was in civilian clothing.

“Good afternoon, sir,” Castillo called, politely. “Would you come aboard, please, sir? Alone?”

Now he’s giving orders to a four-star general? Goddamn it!

“Wait here, please, Jack,” Naylor said to the lieutenant colonel, his aide-de-camp, standing beside him, and then walked to the Lear and climbed up the stairs.

“Thank you, sir,” Castillo said as Naylor entered the cabin.

“This had better be important, Charley.”

“I thought it was, sir.”

Naylor looke

d around the cabin. There were four men in it. One, Fernando M. Lopez, he knew well. The Lear belonged to one of the companies his family controlled.

The other three he did not know. One was an Asiatic, another a light-skinned African American, and the third looked like a high school kid.

“Who are these gentlemen, Charley?” Naylor asked.