The Outlaws (Presidential Agent 6)

“Sir, it was based on more than what the Russians told us. Colonel Hamilton, from Fort Detrick, went over there himself and brought out samples of the material, and even the cadavers of three people who had died from the effects of the poisonous substance.”

“Thank you. I’m really glad to hear that.” Then he had a thought and said it aloud: “How the hell did Hamilton get into and then out of the Congo with three bodies?”

“Carefully and surreptitiously, General,” Leverette said.

“Tell the general who took Colonel Hamilton into and out of the Congo, Mr. Leverette,” Castillo said.

Leverette, clearly uncomfortable, said nothing.

“Why am I not surprised?” General Wilson said.

“That’s why they gave him another Distinguished Service Medal when he was retired,” Castillo said.

“You were at the retirement parade, Randy,” General Wilson said. “You saw both Mr. Leverette and Colonel Castillo being decorated with the DSM.”

“Then why did my father say he was kicked out of the Army?”

That pompous asshole and chairwarmer is not your father.

I am.

“He must have been given the wrong information,” Castillo said. “It happened so suddenly that it probably looked like we were being thrown out.”

“Anyway, we thought the whole thing was over,” Leverette went on. “I was in Uruguay, about to go into the cattle business, when the Russian rezident in Budapest handed Mr. Kocian a letter. It said that a mistake had been made and that the Russians should come home, all is forgiven.”

“You’re not going back, are you, Svetlana?” Randy asked nervously.

“No,” Svetlana said. “Now shut up and let Uncle Remus finish.”

Leverette went on: “The next thing that happened was a barrel of this stuff was delivered to Colonel Hamilton, at Fort Detrick and ...”

“. . . And that brought us, Doña Alicia, to your door,” Leverette concluded.

“And what happens now?”

“We eat a lot of grapefruit and maybe do a little fishing while we wait to see what the Powers That Be decide to do with the tapes,” Castillo said. “And the one thing we don’t do until that happens—for the next four or five days—is talk about this.”

“I think we should have an early lunch,” Doña Alicia said. “I’ll ask them to set up a table on the verandah.”

[FOUR]

The Office of the Ambassador of the United States of

America

Avenida Colombia 4300

Buenos Aires, Argentina

1315 8 February 2007

Ambassador Juan Manuel Silvio—tall, lithe, fair-skinned, well tailored—stood up behind his desk, smiled, and put his hand out as Ambassador Charles M. Montvale and Truman Ellsworth walked into his office.

“How nice to see you again, Mr. Montvale,” Silvio said.

“Ambassador,” Montvale said.

“I know you only by reputation, Mr. Ellsworth,” Silvio said. “I’m Juan Silvio.”