The Hunters (Presidential Agent 3)

Davidson came running up.

“All down, Colonel. Five of them,” Davidson reported. “I knew goddamned well that goddamned ECO laundry truck was dirty. Now what?”

“Now you help me get this guy in the Traffik,” Castillo ordered, “and then you get Kensington in the BMW and get the hell out of here. I’ll take János to the safe house.”

He looked across the garage, intending to signal Solez to get in the truck, and saw that the truck was already in motion but headed for the ECO van, not them.

“Help me get János in the car,” Pevsner pleaded. “I’ve got to get him to a hospital. Please.”

“Take a look at it, Alek, the Mercedes isn’t going anywhere,” Castillo said. “And we can’t take him to a hospital with bullet wounds.”

The Mercedes was apparently only lightly armored. While the cabin was mostly intact, the headlights and hood were bullet-riddled, two tires—clearly not run-flat models—were punctured and flattened, there was the smell of gasoline, and the front windshield and left side windows were crazed.

“What’s going on down there?” Davidson asked, nodding in the direction of the ECO van.

“I think Delchamps is taking pictures and collecting DNA samples and whatever else he can find that looks useful.”

“Look what I found,” Davidson said, holding up a blued-steel garrote.

Castillo shook his head slowly at the sight.

Alfredo Munz came up.

“I need to talk to you, Alfredo,” Pevsner said.

“Doesn’t this speak for itself?” Munz said. “You’ve been betrayed, Alek, and you know by who.”

“I had my suspicions,” Pevsner said. “I didn’t want to accept them.”

“Would you have believed me if I told you?” Munz asked, almost sadly.

“Bradley, go tell Solez I need the Traffik right here right now,” Castillo ordered.

At that moment, the Traffik started toward them.

“What we are going to do is load János in the Traffik and get him and us the hell out of here,” Castillo said. “I’m surprised the cops aren’t here already.”

“The garage is soundproofed,” Munz said, professionally. “And the poor girl in the cashier’s office is going to cower in her little cubicle and do nothing whatever until she is sure we are gone and the police are here. And she will tell them that she saw nothing for fear we’ll be back. We have another minute, perhaps, until someone finishes dinner and comes for their car.”

Sergeant Robert Kensington came running up and dropped to his knees beside János.

“What’s he doing?” Pevsner asked.

“Whatever he can to keep János alive,” Munz said. “He’s a medical soldier.”

“János needs a hospital, a surgical doctor,” Pevsner pursued.

“Who will ask questions,” Munz said. “Kensington can treat him, Alek. He took a bullet from my shoulder.”

“Your call, Alek,” Castillo said, evenly. “You can stay here and wring your hands over János and deal with the cops or you can help us get him in the van. In thirty seconds, we’re out of here.”

Pevsner met Castillo’s eyes for a moment, then moved to János, putting him in an erect position so that it would be easier to pick him up.

Thirty seconds later, János was stretched across the rear row of seats. Sergeant Kensington was applying a pressure dressing to János’s side.

“Watch your feet,” Delchamps called. “I grabbed two Madsens and they’re still loaded.”

Ten seconds after Castillo and Max got in the front seat and closed the door, Solez drove the Traffik to the exit ramp and took out the fragile barrier as he went up. Castillo heard an alarm bell start ringing.