W. E. B. Griffin - Presidential Agent 07

W. E. B. Griffin - Presidential Agent 07 by Covert Warriors

Book: W. E. B. Griffin - Presidential Agent 07 by Covert Warriors Read Free Book Online
Authors: Covert Warriors
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surprising and sudden departure from distinguished government service.”
    Which will also screw up my exclusive interview with Porky.
    There was a buzzing sound.
    “Our master’s voice,” Dick Miller said as he took a CaseyBerry from his pocket and put it to his ear.
    “How nice of you to call,” he went on. “I just put you on conference, Charley.”
    Roscoe saw Delchamps and Yung quickly put their CaseyBerrys to their ears. He took out his own, found the CONF button, and pushed it.
    “I didn’t call to chat, Gimpy,” Castillo’s voice announced. “I called hoping to hear that Edgar has Roscoe in the bag and that you’re about to go wheels-up. Better yet, that you’re already in the air.”
    Danton made a face.
    “Roscoe in the bag”?
    What the hell does that mean?
    “Ace, Roscoe is in the bag,” Delchamps said.
    What the hell are they talking about?
    “And he brought Mr. John David Parker with him,” Delchamps continued.
    “What the hell is that all about?” Castillo said.
    “Roscoe, would you be so kind as to tell our leader what the hell that’s all about?”
    “The press is looking for him,” Danton said.
    “Why?”
    “Right about now, the President is going to announce he’s accepted his resignation,” Danton replied.
    “Because of that fucked-up press conference?”
    “Yes, but Porky didn’t fuck it up,” Danton said.
    After a moment, Castillo replied, “Got it. And you are—what is it you say?—‘chasing the story.’ ”
    “That’s right.”
    “So what are you planning to do with Mr. Parker?”
    “We’re trying to figure that out, Charley.”
    “Is Mr. Parker also trying to evade the press, Roscoe, or do you have him in handcuffs?”
    “He doesn’t want to see them, either.”
    “Okay, so bring him down here,” Castillo said.
    “What?”
    “Bring him down here; we’ll work it out later,” Castillo said. “Got it, Edgar?”
    “Jawohl, mein Führer!” Delchamps barked.
    “Spare me the sarcasm,” Castillo said. “Just call me when you’re wheels-up. I need Roscoe and the Mustang down here yesterday.”
    He needs me? What the hell for?
    And where’s “down here”?
    “Jawohl, mein Führer,” Delchamps repeated.
    A moment later, Roscoe, seeing that everyone had taken their CaseyBerrys from their ears, turned his off.
    “Where is ‘down here’?” Danton asked.
    “Cozumel,” Yung replied.
    Danton looked at him, and thought: If he says “And now that you know that I’ll have to kill you,” I’ll throw this goddamn phone at him.
    “And he wants me to go down there?” Danton asked incredulously.
    Yung looked at Delchamps, and said: “Small problem. Mr. Parker doesn’t have his passport.”
    “I don’t have my passport, either,” Danton said.
    “Catch, Roscoe,” Delchamps said, and when Danton looked at him, Delchamps tossed him a passport.
    “We’ve been through the ‘I don’t have my passport’ routine with you before,” Delchamps said.
    “This was locked in my desk!”
    “Yes, it was,” Delchamps said.
    “What do I need my passport for?” Parker said. “I don’t want to go to Cozumel. I don’t even know where that is.”
    “Not far from Cancún on the Yucatán Peninsula,” Yung furnished.
    “What’s going on there?” Parker asked.
    “Your call, Mr. Parker,” Delchamps said. “We’ll drop you anywhere you want on our way to the airport.”
    “John,” Danton suggested, reasonably, “going to Cozumel would get you out of sight for a couple of days.”
    Parker considered that for a moment and then shrugged.
    “Why not?” he said finally. “I don’t have any other clever ideas at the moment.”
    Danton nodded, and thought, Great! For a couple of days, I’ll have you all to myself.
    “Back to Mr. Parker’s passport problem,” Yung said.
    “Where do you live, Mr. Parker?” the elderly lady asked.
    “The Verizon, it’s at 777 Seventh, Northwest—”
    “I know where it is,” she said. “No problem, Two-Gun. You

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