W Griffin: Hunters

The message would instantly appear on the screen of what was nearly universally-and not very fondly-known as the general's IBB, meaning "Infernal Black Box."

The IBB was in fact a laptop computer identical to Suggins's. General Naylor always had it on the conference in front of him, situated so that the screen would be visible to no one else.

The system was effective. Whoever had the floor in the conference room would not have to stop in midsentence as Naylor's telephone rang or Command Sergeant Major Suggins came through the door.

Naylor could read the message and quickly type his reply:

Or:

Or:

Etcetera. The regularly scheduled afternoon intelligence briefing had been in session for about five minutes when one of the telephones on Command Sergeant Major Suggins's desk rang.

"Office of the Sink. Suggins."

C in c was often pronounced "sink." And "Command Sergeant Major Suggins speaking, sir" wasted time.

"Jack Iverson, Wes," the caller announced. "I've got an interesting in flight advisory for your boss."

Chief Master Sergeant Jack Iverson, USAF, was the senior noncommissioned officer of what was informally known as "the Air Force side of MacDill." MacDill was an Air Force base. The United States Central Command was a "tenant" of MacDill Air Force Base.

"Shoot," Suggins replied as he spun in his chair to the laptop on the credenza. His fingers flew on the keys as Iverson relayed the in flight advisory message:

CHARLEY URGENTLY REPEAT URGENTLY REQUESTS CINC CENTCOM PERSONALLY REPEAT PERSONALLY MEET LEAR FIVE-OH-SEVEN-FIVE ON ARRIVAL MACDILL. ETA 1255. TORINE COL USAF.

"Got it, Jack. Hang on a minute."

"You're not going to tell me what the hell it's all about, Wes?"

"If I knew, I would. I don't," Suggins replied.

He pushed the key that would cause the message to appear on the screen of General Naylor's IBB.

The reply came in a second: ????????????????????????????

The translation of that was, "What the hell?"

A moment later, there was another reply:

"Jack, reply that the CINC will do," Suggins said. "And the CINC authorizes the landing of the civilian airplane, if that's necessary. And for Christ's sake, keep this quiet."

"Why do I think you're not telling me everything you know?"

"Because I'm not," Suggins said. "Thanks, Jack."

Then Suggins picked up the telephone and ordered that the CINC's car be at the front door in five minutes. [FIVE] As the sleek white Bombardier/Learjet 45XR taxied up to the tarmac in front of Base Operations, General Allan Naylor could see the pilot. He knew him well. He was Major Carlos G. Castillo, U.S. Army. Naylor could also see who was sitting in the copilot's seat. He knew him well, too. He was Colonel Jacob Torine, USAF.

That figures, General Naylor thought. A full goddamned Air Force colonel is flying copilot, and Charley-a lousy major-is in the pilot's seat.

Naylor saw Castillo rise from the pilot's seat and leave the cockpit. A moment later, the fuselage door began to unfold and in a moment Castillo appeared in the opening. He was in civilian clothing.

"Good afternoon, sir," Castillo called, politely. "Would you come aboard, please, sir? Alone?"

Now he's giving orders to a four-star general? Goddamn it!

"Wait here, please, Jack," Naylor said to the lieutenant colonel, his aide-de-camp, standing beside him, and then walked to the Lear and climbed up the stairs.

"Thank you, sir," Castillo said as Naylor entered the cabin.

"This had better be important, Charley."

"I thought it was, sir."

Naylor looked around the cabin. There were four men in it. One, Fernando M. Lopez, he knew well. The Lear belonged to one of the companies his family controlled.

The other three he did not know. One was an Asiatic, another a light-skinned African American, and the third looked like a high school kid.

"Who are these gentlemen, Charley?" Naylor asked.

"Special Agent Yung of the FBI, sir," Castillo answered, "Special Agent Britton of the Secret Service and Corporal Lester Bradley. Bradley's a Marine."

"Good afternoon, sir," Colonel Torine said from behind him.

"Hello, Jake," Naylor said and shook his hand.

None of them look smug, as if they've just pulled off something clever. They all look uncomfortable. As if whatever crazy operation they launched went the wrong way?

"I'm waiting, Charley," Naylor said.

Castillo pointed to the aisle at the rear of the cabin.

There was something there wrapped in what looked like sheets. And then Naylor knew what It was.

"Another body?" he asked, icily.

"Sir, those are the remains of Sergeant First Class Seymour Kranz," Castillo said. "He was KIA last night."

"What?"

"Garroted, sir," Castillo said.

"Garroted?"

"Yes, sir."

Castillo took the blue steel garrote from his pocket and extended it to Naylor.

"By who? Where?" Naylor blurted and then hurriedly added, as he pointed to Yung and Bradley: "Are these gentlemen privy to what happened? Or anything else?"

"They are aware of the Presidential Finding, sir. And they participated in the operation in which Kranz lost his life."

"And what was the operation?"

"We located Mr. Lorimer, sir. We staged an operation to repatriate him. We were in the middle of it when we were bushwhacked."

"By who?"

"I don't know, sir. Mr. Lorimer was killed during the attack as well as Sergeant Kranz."

"And the bushwhackers?"

"They were killed, sir."

"Where did this happen?"

"In Uruguay, sir."

"Uruguay?" Naylor asked, incredulously, and then verbalized what he was thinking. "The last thing I heard, you were in Europe. Hungary."

"We were, sir. But we tracked down Lorimer in Uruguay."

"And are the Uruguayan authorities already looking for you? Or will that come a little later?"

"So far as that aspect of the operation is concerned, sir, we came out clean."

"You came out with two bodies? And you call that clean?"

"We left Mr. Lorimer's body in Uruguay, sir," Castillo said. "What I meant to say is that I don't think we left anything behind that could tie the operation to us."

"And why did you come here? Why did you bring the sergeant's body here?"

"It was either here or Fort Bragg, sir-Washington was obviously out of the question-and we didn't have enough fuel to make Pope Air Force Base. And you were here, sir."

Naylor looked at him and thought, Good ol' Uncle Allan will fix things, right?

"Sir," Castillo added, "you are personally aware of my orders from the President. General McNab is not."

What's he doing, reading my mind?

And, dammit, he's right. Bringing the sergeant's body here was the right thing to do.

"When do you plan to go to Washington?"

"Just as soon as possible, sir. I'd be grateful if you would call Secretary Hall and tell him we're en route."

General Naylor looked for a long moment into Major Castillo's eyes. Then he walked to the door.

"Colonel," he called, "will you come in here, please?"

His aide-de-camp came quickly into the airplane.

"Colonel, you are advised that, from this moment, what you may see or hear is classified Top Secret Presidential."

"Yes, sir."

"Under that black plastic is the body of a sergeant…"

"Sergeant First Class Seymour Kranz," Castillo interrupted.

"…who was killed," Naylor went on, "during the execution of a covert and clandestine operation authorized by a Presidential Finding. The officer in charge of this covert and clandestine operation has brought the sergeant's remains here for us to deal with. I confess I have no idea how to proceed with that."