The Hunters (Presidential Agent 3)

Corporal Bradley, who had stood up and was standing almost at attention, blushed.

“Mr. Darby,” Sieno began, pointing to the large duffel bag that Castillo had seen him take out of the Cherokee when he’d first come to the apartment, “he didn’t know what you would want, so I brought two M-16s, a riot gun, a couple of Glocks, and a couple of 1911A1 .45s.”

“Your call, Corporal Bradley,” Castillo said.

“Considering the circumstances as I understand them, sir,” Bradley said, “and the superior ballistics of the .45 ACP round over the 9mm, if I may I’d like one of the M-16s and a 1911A1.”

“So ordered,” Castillo said.

Sieno smiled. “You’re one of those, are you, Corporal, who doesn’t think much of the 9mm?”

“Yes, sir. Actually, it’s been proven conclusively that it’s inferior to the .45 ACP,” Bradley proclaimed, professionally. “And as a result of that determination, the formerly obsolescent Model 1911A1 has been declared optional standard by the Marine Corps and, if I’m not mistaken, by Special Operations.”

“So it has, Deadeye,” Davidson said, smiling at Sieno. “Any other weapons questions for the corporal, Paul?”

“I think I’d better wrap the M-16 in a blanket or something,” Susanna said, not completely able to restrain a smile, and walked out of the living room.

There was a clatter of metal.

Castillo saw that Bradley was now sitting on the floor by the duffel bag that held the weapons. He had already begun fieldstripping one of the 1911A1 pistols, had dropped a part—and was already snatching it from the floor.

Christ, that was fast!

“I have twenty bucks that says Deadeye can fieldstrip that weapon faster than anyone in this room,” Jack Davidson said, admiringly. “Including, with all respect, Colonel, sir, the senior special operator among us.”

“No bet,” Castillo said.

Corporal Lester Bradley made no move or sound to show that he had heard any of that exchange, but the usually pink skin of his neck and cheeks, now a dark rose color, suggested that he had.

Davidson pointed at him and shook his head admiringly.

Ninety seconds after Mr. Susanna Sieno and Corporal Lester Bradley had left the apartment, Castillo’s cellular vibrated.

And I still haven’t charged this thing!

“¿Hola?”

“Carlos?”

“Sí.”

“Our friends Ricardo and Antonio have just left here for the bus terminal with those papers Alfredo was interested in.”

Castillo recognized the voice of Ambassador Silvio. It took him a moment to understand Antonio was Tony Santini.

“If they miss the bus, Antonio said he’d call both of us.”

“Well, let’s hope they don’t miss it. Thanks for the call.”

“We’ll be in touch.”

Castillo broke the connection and looked at Munz.

“That was Ambassador Silvio. The passports, with visas, are now on their way from the residence to the Buquebus terminal. Charge the cellular.”

Munz nodded but said nothing.

“‘The passports, with visas, are now on their way from the residence to the Buquebus terminal. Charge the cellular,’” Jake Torine parroted. “Am I cleared for an explanation of that?”