The Hunters (Presidential Agent 3)

“And not just because I don’t like you and this operation of yours, but because if NSA says the bureau is interested in this Caledonian Bank that means there is a legitimate, ongoing investigation which may very well be screwed up by you nosing around.”

“But?” Castillo asked again.

“If I don’t do this for you, you’ll go back to Montvale, he’ll go back to Director Schmidt and he’ll either order me to get the information or tell somebody else to do it.”

“Please give Inspector Doherty the numbers of the accounts we’re interested in, Dave.”

Doherty hung up the phone fifteen minutes later and handed Castillo a sheet of notepaper on which was written: “Kenyon Oil Refining and Brokerage Company, Midland, Texas.”

Castillo was momentarily surprised at hearing Midland, Texas, but then realized that it was because Munz’s family was on the Double-Bar-C ranch there, not because the oil company was in Midland.

There’s probably three or four hundred oil companies in Midland. And it’s not surprising that I never heard of this one. Many of them are nothing more than a phone number and a post office box.

“That’s the account with the forty-six million in it,” Doherty reported. “The information the bureau has is that they’re a small independent outfit, primarily involved in the business of buy

ing and selling crude oil. They have a small refinery in Houston, but that’s usually involved in refining other people’s oil. There is an ongoing investigation that has so far not turned up anything they’re looking for.”

“What is the FBI looking for?” Castillo asked.

“They didn’t tell me and I didn’t ask.”

“Get back on the horn, please, Inspector, and ask. And while you’ve got them on the phone, find out what the FBI have—anything, everything, they have—on the other numbers Yung gave you.”

Doherty glowered at him and didn’t move.

“Do it, Inspector,” Castillo said, unpleasantly.

Doherty grabbed the telephone. Making no effort to hide it, Castillo listened and watched him carefully while he made the call.

“It’ll take some time to get that information,” Doherty reported when he had finished. “They’ll call.”

“And while we’re waiting, we’ll all going to take a quick course in how the scans worked,” Castillo said.

“From who?” Doherty asked.

“From my Budapest source, who is now in Argentina.”

“I told you, Castillo, I didn’t want any data from those people until we sort out what we already have.”

“Do you speak Hungarian, Inspector?”

“No, I don’t speak Hungarian,” Doherty responded in exasperation.

“Then you’ll just have to guess what I’m saying to my source,” Castillo said and picked up the Delta Force radio handset.

“Sergeant Neidermeyer,” a voice came over the handset.

“Are we up?” Castillo asked.

“All green, sir.”

“Data link, too?”

“All up, Colonel.”

“Wake them up, Neidermeyer,” Castillo ordered, then switched the radio to SPEAKERPHONE and hung up the handset.

“Davidson,” a voice came over the speaker ten seconds later.