The Hunters (Presidential Agent 3)

“Tell me about Colonel Munz,” Silvio said, smiling.

“Well, he thinks people are following him around. He doesn’t know who they are, but he’s worried about his family—a wife and two daughters—and I don’t think he’s paranoid.

“He suspects—but doesn’t know—that the people following him, or at least some of them, may work for Pevsner. And he knows enough about Pevsner to know that Pevsner’s policy for people who know too much about him is to give them a beauty mark in the forehead.”

It took a moment for Silvio to understand. Then he grimaced.

“Since Munz took a bullet for us,” Castillo said, “I told him I would take him and his family to the States until we find out who these people are and stop them. They’ll need visas.”

“Not a problem,” Silvio said. “The bureaucrats in Foggy Bottom keep whittling away at an ambassador’s authority, but I’m still the man with the last word on who gets a visa.”

“That’ll have to be done today and I haven’t quite figured out how to do it.”

“It can be done.”

“Munz doesn’t want to go. He wants to stay here and help find out who these bastards are.”

“How badly is he hurt?”

“His shoulder. I don’t know if he can use a weapon or not.”

“Why does it have to be today?” Silvio asked.

“Because (a) I have still more balls to juggle in the States and (b) I need to talk to Ambassador Montvale as soon as I can.”

“He said the same about you. There’s a secure line here, if you want to use it.”

“Thank you. A little later,” Castillo said, and then asked: “Do you think Santini’s out there by now?”

“I’d be surprised if he’s not.”

“Thank you very much, sir.”

“For what?”

“This is probably one more manifestation of exhaustion, but I really feel a hell of a lot better than when we walked in here. Almost euphoric.”

“I’m glad,” Silvio said. “But I strongly recommend that, as soon as we’re finished with Lowery and Santini, you get some rest. A lot of rest.”

“I just don’t have the time right now. Maybe I can get some sleep in the Gulfstream on the way to the States.”

Silvio looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, then said, “You said you wanted my advice. Still want it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’ve been talking about juggling balls and being an inept juggler.”

Castillo nodded.

“I think you’re a very good juggler, Charley. If you start dropping balls, it will be because you’re exhausted, not because you’re inept. Stop pushing yourself. You have limits, even if you don’t like to admit it.”

“I readily admit it. Physical limits, mental limits, and half a dozen other kinds.”

“Once everyone is set up in the safe house in Mayerling and you get Colonel Munz’s family to the States, I can see no reason why you can’t take forty-eight hours off. Can you?”

“I have to go see Ambassador Montvale as soon as I get to the States and I don’t think I can put that off for forty-eight hours.”

“There’s my proof that you’re exhausted and need rest. Even I can think of a way to get around that.”