The Outlaws (Presidential Agent 6)

“I will be damned,” Naylor said, and went to the couch, found the dart, and pulled it free. He held it up for a better look, and then held it against his pinkie finger. It was about as long, and perhaps half as thick.

“Amazing,” General Naylor said, then looked at Brewer. “Can you think of anything else, Jack?”

“Yes, sir,” Brewer said. “Lieutenant Colonel (Designate) Naylor.”

“What about him?” Lammelle asked.

Naylor told him.

“Just to be sure, General,” Lammelle then said, “I suggest you maintain the current close personal supervision. I’m frankly uncomfortable, taking into consideration what you’ve told me, with the thought of leaving him here when we go off wherever we’re going. There’s no telling . . .”

“I agree. Where we go, Allan Junior goes,” General Naylor said.

“May I see that dart, General?” Colonel Brewer asked.

Naylor handed it to him.

[ONE]

The President’s Study

The White House

1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, N.W.

Washington, D.C.

0929 9 February 2007

Assistant Secretary of Homeland Security Mason Andrews was more than a little nervous when he entered the President’s study with Frederick P. Palmer, the United States attorney general.

He was fully aware that he was the assistant secretary of Homeland Security and that the secretary should be dealing with the President on this matter. Andrews had the previous evening telephoned the secretary, who was in Chicago, brought her up to speed, and asked her for direction. She had agreed with him that it was a very delicate area, and that proceeding carefully was obviously necessary. She said she’d like to sleep on the problem, and that he should call her back in the morning, say at about nine, before his nine-thirty appointment with the President.

When he had done so, he had been informed that the secretary was not available at the moment; something—not specified, but important—had come up and the secretary simply was not available.

Mr. Andrews then had had an unkind thought.

That bitch is covering her fat ass by staying out of the line of fire.

Again.

But, fully aware that one does not make an appointment on an urgent matter with the President of the United States and then break it, he was in the outer office at nine-twenty with the very-reluctant-to-be-there attorney general. It had been necessary to tell the attorney general that if the AG couldn’t find time in his schedule for the meeting, he would tell the President just that.

“All right, Andrews,” President Clendennen greeted them. “Make it quick.”

“Mr. Darby has been located, Mr. President,” Andrews announced.

“Ambassador Montvale was told to keep me posted. Why am I hearing this from you?”

“Sir, I don’t believe Ambassador Montvale knows about this.”

“I’m confused. I don’t like to be confused. Why don’t you start at the goddamn beginning, Andrews? Maybe that way ...”

“Yes, Mr. President. Sir, at half past four yesterday, Immigration, in response to the LDND order, notified the Secret Service that Mr. Darby had entered the United States—”

“In response to the what?” the President interrupted.

“The LDND order. That means ‘locate, do not detain.’”