The Outlaws (Presidential Agent 6)
Page 171
“Get him back here, Jack,” Naylor ordered.
Brewer took a cell phone from his pocket and pushed an auto-dial button.
“Major Naylor,” he said twenty seconds later. “This is Colonel Brewer. General Naylor’s compliments. It is the general’s desire that you attend him immediately. Acknowledge.”
He pushed the OFF button.
“Major Naylor is on his way, sir.”
“Don’t you mean ‘Lieutenant Colonel (Designate),’ Jack?”
Lieutenant Colonel (Designate) Allan Naylor, Jr., returned to the kitchen of Quarters One two minutes later.
He walked to where his father was sitting, came to attention, saluted, and recited, “Major Naylor reporting to the Commanding General as ordered.”
General Naylor glanced at Colonel Brewer, then met his son’s eyes.
“Major,” he said, “you are attached to my personal staff for an indefinite period. You are not to communicate with Lieutenant Colonel Castillo or anyone connected in any way to him in any way under any circumstances. Neither will you communicate in any way under any circumstances with any sort of media. That is a direct order. Indicate that you understand and intend to comply with that order by saying ‘Yes, sir.’”
“Yes, sir.”
“You will proceed to your quarters and will remain there until you receive further orders from either myself or Colonel Brewer. You will pack sufficient uniforms and civilian clothing to last for a period of seven days. You will go into no further detail when discussing this with your wife or anyone else than that you will be accompanying me on official business. The foregoing has been a direct order. Indicate that you understand and intend to comply with that order by saying ‘Yes, sir.’”
“Yes, sir.”
“You are dismissed.”
“Yes, sir.”
Major Naylor saluted his father, and when it was returned, did an about-face, and marched out of the kitchen.
When General Naylor heard the sound of Allan Junior’s Suburban starting, he held up his glass in a toast, and said, “Congratulations on your promotion, son. You’ve made me very proud of you.”
[TWO]
7200 West Boulevard Drive
Alexandria, Virginia
0705 9 February 2007
The convoy of four blackened-window Secret Service GMC Yukons turned off West Boulevard Drive and drove—not without difficulty; four inches of snow had fallen during the night—up the steep drive to the house.
Four men in business suits quickly got out of the first vehicle in line and moved as swiftly as they could through the fresh snow and the drifts of previous snowfalls to the sides and rear of the house.
Three men—Supervisory Special Agent Thomas McGuire, Special Agent Joshua Foster, and Mason Andrews, the assistant secretary of the Department of Homeland Security—got out of the second Yukon and made their way—again not without difficulty; the snow-covered walk was steep—to the front door. McGuire pushed the button for the doorbell. Chimes could be heard.
They waited a full minute. Nothing happened.
McGuire pushed the doorbell again, and again there was no response from within the house.
McGuire took a cell phone from his pocket and punched an auto-dial number.
“With whom am I speaking, please?” he asked a moment later. Then he said, “Mrs. Darby, this is Supervisory Special Agent McGuire of the United States Secret Service. We are at your front door. Will you please open it to us?”
He put the telephone back in his pocket and announced, “She said she’ll open the door as quickly as she can.”
“She damned well better,” Mason Andrews said, brushing snow from his bald spot.