The Hunters (Presidential Agent 3)

“Yeah,” Artigas said and smiled and shook his head. “But only ‘hypothetically,’ Colonel. And then they said they would deny ever discussing even a hypothetical Presidential Finding with me.”

Castillo chuckled. Ambassador Silviosmiled.

“Everyone take your seat,” Castillo said. “Get comfortable.”

When they had, Castillo went on: “Okay, this is not hypothetical, Artigas. From now on, anything I—or anybody connected in any way with this operation—tells you is classified Top Secret Presidential.”

“Yes, sir.”

“There has been a Presidential Finding. It established the Office of Organizational Analysis, a covert and clandestine unit within the Department of Homeland Security. I am the chief. The mission is to…”

Ten minutes later, Castillo ended his uninterrupted lecture: “…until you hear otherwise from me—me, not from anyone else—you are on detached duty with OOA.” He smiled, and added, “This is the point where the lecturer invariably says, ‘Are there any questions?’ I’m not going to do that.”

I’ve got several hundred questions, Artigas thought, then said: “Not even one question?”

“One,” Castillo said.

“What am I going to do?”

“Good question. The answer is, until I figure that out, you are going to contribute whatever you can from your vast fund of professional knowledge to the solving of a number of little problems OOA faces.”

“Like what?” Artigas said, smiling.

“You got one question. You spent it,” Castillo said, meeting Artigas’s eyes.

Castillo then looked at the others and went on, “The priority problem is how to get Colonel Munz’s family out of here as safely, as quickly, and as secretly as possible.” He paused. “Mr. Ambassador, may I respectfully suggest that this would be a splendid time for you to find something else to do?”

“I think not, Colonel,” Silvio said. “I really decided a while back that this is one of those ‘in for a penny, in for a pound’ situations. Maybe I can be helpful.”

“You’re sure, sir?”

Silvio nodded.

Castillo shrugged.

“Tony, did Alfredo tell you about the people surveilling him?” Castillo asked.

“Uh-huh.”

“Okay, then let’s do this the military way, by seniority. I think you’re senior, Tony, so tell us how we’re going to do that.”

“I need all the facts, Charley, and I don’t think I have them,” Santini said.

“What are you missing?”

“That friend of yours who speaks Russian,” Santini said. “What’s his role in this?”

“And a half dozen other languages,” Castillo offered. “Alek Pevsner.”

“The Russian arms dealer, mafioso?” Ken Lowery asked. “Jesus, I saw a new Interpol warrant for him—smuggling, I think—just a couple of days ago. He’s involved in this?”

I saw that Interpol warrant, too, Artigas thought. And a dozen others on him. That guy’s a real badass. And he’s Castillo’s friend?

Castillo nodded. “The question is, how is he involved?”

“He’s here? In Argentina?” Yung asked.

“I am going to say as little about Pevsner as I can,” Castillo said. “As a matter of fact, from this moment on he is code-named ‘Putin’ and all references to him will be by his code name. Clear?”