Covert Warriors (Presidential Agent 7)

“Did you hear what I said about wanting any messages addressed to General McNab that the FBI discovers to be sent to me, immediately?”

“Mr. President, what I can do, should another FedEx or UPS envelope addressed to General McNab be uncovered, is immediately photocopy the envelope and its contents and send those to you.”

“I don’t want copies. I want the real thing.”

“Mr. President, there is no provision in the law permitting that.”

“Well, you and Attorney General Crenshaw are clever people . . . in his case, maybe a little too clever . . . and I’m sure you’ll be able to find a provision.”

Schmidt did not reply, having decided he was going to drop this in the lap of Attorney General Crenshaw and let him deal with it.

He went on: “What SAC Johnson also did, Mr. President, is investigate the post office box—P.O. Box 2333—mentioned in the kidnapper’s first message. When he learned that it had not been rented, he rented it.

“It’s possible the kidnappers knew that Box 2333 had been rented. He’s looking into that . . . which postal employees would have knowledge of that. Perhaps the kidnappers intend to send further communications to P.O. Box 2333. On the other hand, it may be just a coincidence.”

“Whatever means these people use to communicate with us, I want to see whatever they send im

mediately. You understand that?”

Schmidt nodded. “Yes, Mr. President.”

“I intend to get this Colonel Ferris back, and I have no intention of letting anyone get in my way, whether through stupidity or ineptness. Or anything else.”

“Yes, Mr. President,” Schmidt said.

“That will be all. Thank you.”

The President turned to Mulligan.

“Just as soon as the director has gone, get the secretary of Defense on the phone.”

[FOUR]

Office of the Commanding General

U.S. Special Operations Command

Fort Bragg, North Carolina

1515 15 April 2007

When the red telephone on his desk buzzed and a red LED on it began to flash, Lieutenant General Bruce J. McNab put his hand on it.

“I wonder what message General Naylor is about to relay to me from the Deity,” he said to Colonel Max Caruthers, and then he pushed the LOUDSPEAKER button before picking up the handset and putting it to his ear.

“McNab.”

“I have just been on the telephone with Secretary Beiderman,” General Allan B. Naylor announced without any preliminaries.

“Yes, sir?”

“General, I am not in any mood to tolerate any of your wit, sarcasm, or, more important, obfuscations. If I were you, I’d keep that in mind.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll keep that in mind. May I inquire into what you think I have done to displease Secretary Beiderman?”

“You will answer my questions, General. I will take none from you.”

“Yes, sir.”