The Shooters (Presidential Agent 4)

They could see they were in some kind of garage. Vehicles of all descriptions-twenty-five or thirty, perhaps more, including several taxis and a nearly new Mercedes-Benz 220-were parked closely together, noses out, against the walls. There was a ramp at the end of the room leading upward.

"Is this where we go fishing, Colonel?" Chief Warrant Officer Five Colin Leverette asked.

The bus driver opened the door.

Munz stuck his head into the bus.

"We change vehicles here," he announced.

"What's going on, Alfredo?" Castillo asked in German.

"In a moment, please, Karl," Munz replied in German, then said in English, "Would everybody please get off the bus?"

Max needed no further encouragement. Munz ducked out of his way at the last possible second.

Max ran around the area-In a strange gait, Castillo noticed, almost as if he's running on his toes. He's hunting, that's what he's doing. I'll be damned if he didn't sense that just about all us warriors of legendary icy courage on the bus were scared shitless by this mysterious little joyride-found nothing that worried him and returned to Munz, where he sat down and offered him his paw.

"Max says it's safe to get off the bus, fellas," Davidson said.

"Don't laugh at him," Castillo said. "Remember the last time he went looking for something in a garage?"

"Who's laughing?" Davidson said agreeably.

Everybody piled off the bus.

The driver went to the rear and started unloading the luggage. Two more large men who looked like cops-the ones who had been in the backseat of Munz's BMW, Castillo decided-moved quickly to help him.

Castillo caught Munz's eye and wordlessly asked who they were and what was going on.

"I'll explain this all in a minute," Munz said. "We're pressed for time. Lester, could you find Acceso Norte from here?"

"Yes, sir," Corporal Bradley replied. "I am fairly familiar with the area."

"Yung?" Munz asked.

"Yeah. I know my way around B.A."

"Karl, would it be all right with you if Lester and Yung drove everybody not needed here out to Nuestra Pequena Casa?"

"Who's 'needed here,' Alfredo?" Castillo asked.

"Edgar and Jake should be in on this, Charley," Alex Darby said.

"Okay," Castillo said. "Are we going to need a radio right now?"

Darby shook his head.

"Okay, load the cars that Mr. Darby's going to give you," Castillo ordered. "Neidermeyer, if you ride with Two-Gun, we won't have both radios in one car. Otherwise, suit yourselves. Take all the luggage. Edgar and Jake, you'll stay."

They nodded.

Two minutes later, the corrugated steel door clanked noisily up. Yung drove a Volkswagen Golf out of the building. The door came clanking quickly down again, to rise two minutes later to permit the exit of a Jeep Grand Cherokee with Bradley driving.

When the corrugated steel door had crashed noisily down again, one of the cops who had helped with the luggage raised his hand toward the ramp.

"Please," he said in English.

They started to follow him up the ramp. Max ran past him without difficulty. The others had a little trouble. The ramp was quite steep, not very wide, and had six-inch-wide anti-wheel-slip bumps running across it.