The Outlaws (Presidential Agent 6)

> “What do you need, Sergeant?” Castillo asked.

“Sir, Colonel Hamilton sends his best regards.”

“Thank you.”

“Sir, where is the Congo-X?”

Castillo gestured up the ramp. “In there. Behind that front-loader, or forklift, whatever it is. There are three barrels of it.”

“Is there any more of it, Colonel?” General Naylor asked. “Were you able to determine that?”

“According to General Sirinov, sir, that’s all of it. I believe him.”

“He’s telling the truth,” Sweaty said.

General Naylor looked at her. “How do you know that?”

“Because he knows that if I find out he’s lying,” Sweaty said, “he will die a very slow and painful death. This time with no morphine.”

“This time?” General Naylor asked.

“Colonel Alekseeva shot General Sirinov in the foot,” Castillo said. “And later took pity on him and gave him a shot of morphine.”

“She was aiming for his foot, right?” McNab asked. “I mean, that wasn’t a near miss or anything like that?”

“No, sir. She was aiming for his foot.”

“I knew she was my kind of girl,” McNab said.

Naylor glared at him.

“Where is General Sirinov?” Naylor asked.

“Plastic-cuffed to the first barrel behind the cockpit,” Castillo said.

“Allan, get in there, free the general, and see what attention he needs,” Naylor said.

“You can go get him,” Sweaty said. “But do not take off his cuffs. And take someone ... No. I will go with you. He is a very dangerous man.”

“You want me to go get him, Charley?” Uncle Remus asked.

“No,” Castillo said. “Go see if you can operate that forklift, or whatever it is. Sweaty, take Lester with you. Tell General Sirinov that Lester’s the fellow who took out Lieutenant Colonel Yevgeny Komogorov, and he would like nothing more than putting a bullet in his eye.”

Two minutes later, General Sirinov, obviously in pain, limped down the ramp, supported by Allan Junior and trailed by Lester Bradley, who held a 1911A1 Colt .45 pistol at his side, and by Sweaty.

“Okay, Frank,” General McNab said.

Lammelle walked to Sirinov.

“General,” he said in Russian, “my name is Lammelle. Does that mean anything to you?”

“I know who you are, Mr. Lammelle,” Sirinov said in English.

“Are you going to answer my questions, General? Or should I—for the time being—simply have you confined?”

Castillo wondered: How did Lammelle get in the act?

What the hell’s going on with him?