Black Ops (Presidential Agent 5)
"And when that was over, I went through the Officer Basic Course at Benning, then applied for and was accepted for jump training. I went through that and was given command of a chemical platoon in the 82nd Airborne at Bragg."
Castillo met Uncle Remus's eyes. Both had the same mental image of the faces of the platoon when they learned their new commander was a tall, skinny, black guy with a Ph.D. who spoke with an English accent and who had graduated from jump school just last week.
"While I was at Bragg," Hamilton went on, "I took some correspondence courses from MIT--"
He stopped when his telephone buzzed.
"Yes?" he said into it, and then, a little surprised, "Very well."
He handed the telephone to McNab, who--causing a momentary look of shock to appear on Hamilton's face--pushed the SPEAKERPHONE button.
"General McNab?" a voice said.
"Yes. Who is this?"
"Under the circumstances, General, I think we can dispense with a secure line."
"Your call."
"I have just instructed Colonel Hamilton to cooperate in every way but one in your current project."
"Thank you."
"He is not authorized to tell you anything about us."
"Okay."
"We really wish you well in this project, General."
McNab held the telephone at arm's length and looked at it.
"Sonofabitch hung up on me!" He then looked around the room and asked, "Anybody recognize that voice? I've heard it before. Goddamn it!"
He slowly walked back and forth in front of the sliding glass doors for thirty seconds or so, obviously searching his audio memory.
Then he turned, put his hands on his hips, and said, "Okay, children. Fun-and-games time is over. Let's get this show on the road! Hubba hubba!"
"Hoo-rah!" Castillo called.
Lieutenant Colonel Woods laughed.
"You'll pay for that, Peter!" McNab said, and without another word marched out of the room.
XVI
[ONE]
Double-Bar-C Ranch
Near Midland, Texas
2305 7 January 2006
The runway lights at the Double-Bar-C were lit as the result of a somewhat less-than-loving, not to mention less-than-civil, conversation between cousins--one Lieutenant Colonel Charley Castillo and one Mr. Fernando Manuel Lopez--some thirty minutes previously:
"Hello?"
"Mr. Fernando Lopez, please. The White House is calling."