The Hunters (Presidential Agent 3)

“Yeah. And not only that, the ambassador in Uruguay wants Yung to pass this on to the secretary of state. In confidence. What do I tell him about that?”

“Tell him it will hold until I see him there.”

“Got it. Anything else?”

“As soon as I get things organized in Buenos Aires—maybe two days, tops—I’ll come home.”

“That’s it?”

“Can’t think of anything. How’s the leg?”

“Improved. It only hurts now ninety percent of the time. Watch your back, buddy.”

VIII

[ONE]

Arlington National Cemetery

Arlington, Virginia

1600 6 August 2005

There is an average of twenty burials every day at Arlington. There is a prescribed routine for enlisted men, one for warrant officers and officers, and one for general or flag officers.

Enlisted men being interred are provided with a casket team (pallbearers), a firing party to fire the traditional three-round salute, and a bugler to sound taps.

In addition to the basics, warrant and commissioned officers may be provided with an escort platoon, its size varying according to the rank of the deceased, and a military band.

Officers are entitled to the use of a horse-drawn artillery caisson to move the casket to the grave site. Army and Marine Corps colonels and above are entitled to have a caparisoned, riderless horse. General officers are also entitled to a cannon salute—seventeen guns for a four-star general, fifteen for a three-star, thirteen for a two-star, eleven for a one-star.

There is almost never a deviation from the prescribed rites and the late Sergeant First Class Seymour Kranz was entitled to the least of these prerogatives.

But from the moment the hearse bearing his casket arrived near the grave site, Sergeant Kranz’s internment did not follow the standard protocol.

As the immaculately turned-out officer in charge reached for the door handle at the rear of the hearse, an immaculately turned-out Special Forces sergeant major stepped up and spoke to him.

“With your permission, sir, we’ll take it from here,” Sergeant Major John K. Davidson said.

“Excuse me?” the OIC, a first lieutenant, said.

It was the first time anyone had ever interrupted his procedure.

“The sergeant major said we’ll take it from here,” another voice said. “Do you have a problem with that, Lieutenant?”

The lieutenant turned and found himself facing another Green Beret, this one with three silver stars glistening on each of his epaulets.

“Sir…” the lieutenant began to protest.

“Good. I didn’t think there would be a problem,” Lieutenant General Bruce J. McNab said. “Carry on, Sergeant Major.”

“Yes, sir,” Sergeant Major Davidson said, then raised his voice slightly. “Casket detail, ten-hut. Execute!”

Seven Green Berets of varying ranks—including one lieutenant general plus one corporal, USMC—marched up to the rear of the hearse, halted, then did an about-face without orders. When Sergeant Major Davidson pulled open the hearse door, the casket was removed and raised onto the shoulders of the casket detail.

“Escort detail, ten-hut!” Sergeant Major Davidson barked softly, and very quickly twenty-odd Special Forces soldiers, mostly sergeants of one grade or another but including one full colonel, one lieutenant colonel, two majors, a captain, and two lieutenants, formed a column of twos and snapped to attention.

“Chaplain! Detail!” Sergeant Davidson barked. “At funeral pace, forward harch!”