The Shooters by Griffin W. E. B

Author:Griffin, W. E. B. [Griffin, W. E. B.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Drug dealers, Action & Adventure, Uruguay, American Mystery & Suspense Fiction, Drug dealers - Uruguay, Fiction, United States, Suspense fiction, Fiction - Men's Adventure, War & Military, Men's Adventure, Undercover operations, Espionage
ISBN: 9780399154409
Publisher: New York : G.P. Putnam's Sons, c2008.
Published: 2008-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Richardson came in as Castillo, Crenshaw, and Wilson touched glasses.

“Your man is installing a cable TV dish on the roof,” Richardson announced.

“And any minute now, we can get Fox News,” General Crenshaw said with a straight face.

Castillo chuckled, and Richardson shot him a look, wondering what that was about. Then Richardson turned his attention back to the general.

“Sir, the field-grade OD has been advised of the truck coming from Bragg. They’ll be expecting it at the gate, and there will be an MP escort to guide it to the MP impound lot, where it will be under guard until Colonel Castillo tells me what he wants to do with it.”

“First thing in the morning, Randy,” General Crenshaw said, “go out to Hanchey Field and take over a hangar large enough for four H-models. Arrange for the MPs to guard it, then move this equipment into it. That sound about right, Castillo?”

“Yes, sir, that sounds fine.”

“Sir,” Richardson said, “am I to sign a receipt for this equipment?”

“Good question,” Castillo said. “I didn’t think about that. Well, when the truck gets here”—he stopped as Neidermeyer came back in the house, then went on—“Neidermeyer here will happily get out of bed and sign for it. Right, Jamie?”

“The stuff from Bragg?”

Castillo nodded. “Tonight it goes into an MP lot. In the morning, Colonel Richardson will have it moved to a guarded hangar at Hanchey—one of the airfields.”

“Yes, sir. Am I going with you tomorrow, sir?”

“You and the magic box.”

“Sir, it might be a good idea if we had our own wheels.”

“I didn’t think of that,” Crenshaw said. “What would you like?”

“Sir, vans are pretty inconspicuous. And I don’t think we need a driver.”

“Randy?” the general said.

“I’ll have one here in fifteen minutes, sir.”

“This should take me about ninety seconds, sir,” Neidermeyer said to Castillo, and walked out of the room.

Richardson walked to a telephone on a credenza, took a small notebook from his pocket, found what he was looking for, and dialed a number.

“Colonel Richardson, Sergeant. General Crenshaw desires that a van be sent immediately to the Magnolia House. A driver will not be required.

“Yes, Sergeant, I’m aware that it’s unusual. But that is the general’s desire.”

He listened a moment and said, “Thank you,” and hung up.

For Christ’s sake, Righteous!

You’re a lieutenant colonel. You can give orders for a lousy van all by yourself.

You didn’t have to hide behind Crenshaw’s stars.

Castillo caught General Wilson’s watching eye.

And that wasn’t lost on him, either.

“A van has been laid on, sir,” Richardson announced.

“Thank you.”

Neidermeyer walked back into the living room and handed a handset to Castillo.

“They say twenty-five feet max with no wire, but give it a try.”

Castillo looked at the handset, saw H. R. MILLER, JR. on its small screen, pushed the loudspeaker button, and said, “So I shamed you into not taking off early?”

“Where are you, Charley?”

“In Magnolia House at Rucker. And guess who’s with me?”

“No, thanks.”

“General Wilson and Randy Richardson.”

“You’re on loudspeaker?”

“Yeah.”

“Good evening, sir. Dick Miller, sir. Hey, Righteous, how they hanging?”

“Hello, Dick,” General Wilson said.

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