The Generals by W.E.B. Griffin Read Free Book Online Page A

telex sent to him on a CONTBANK “For Your Information” buck slip had surprised him:
    CRAPOWBANK NY
    CONTBANK CHICAGO
    ATTN: J. B. SUMMERSFIELD, VICE CHAIRMAN OF THE BOARD
    FOLLOWING LIST OF HUNTERS WILL ARRIVE SIOUX FALLS AIRPORT
    BY AERO COMMANDER AFTERNOON OF OCTOBER 19:
    BRIG GENERAL P. T. HANRAHAN
    COL. P. S. PARKER III
    LT COL. C. W. LOWELL
    LT COL. R. G. MACMILLAN
    1ST LT C. J. WOOD. JR.
    MR. S. T. WOJINSKI
    I APPRECIATE BOTH YOUR HOSPITALITY AND YOUR UNDERSTANDING OF THE SITUATION. BEST PERSONAL REGARDS .
    PORTER CRAIG
    CHAIRMAN OF THE BOARD
    CRAIG POWELL KENYON AND DAWES
    J. B. Summersfield had not elected to tell John H. Denn who the soldier hunters were, or why their pleasure was important to the Continental Illinois Bank.
    Whatever was the true purpose of the invitation, Denn had decided he would do whatever was required to insure these people shot pheasant and had a good time.
    Unless there was an early blizzard, there was no reason they should not be pleased. The house was stocked with food, three cases of liquor and one of wine—labels not ordinarily available in South Dakota; and he had had special steaks sent air freight from Kansas City. In previous years, with some difficulty, he had managed to convince the caretaker’s wife that economy was not a consideration when she was shopping.
    When Denn had gone out to the Farm after his arrival from Chicago, the caretaker had assured him that sufficient plastic-insulated shipping containers were on hand, and that in the morning, he had been promised the first of the daily shipments of dry ice. You could never tell: Sometimes the hunters were really greedy for birds, and sometimes they didn’t seem to care at all. But if these people did want them, they would leave with cleaned pheasant, frozen by dry ice, in plastic bags.
    There were also at the Farm eight shotguns with ammunition, in case the hunters arrived without weapons. And the two Labrador retrievers would be handled by the caretaker’s son.
    In the house were telephones, a telex machine, and television sets. Everything but women. CONTBANK would not function as a procurer, even if that meant losing the chance to purchase the Bank of England at ten cents on the dollar.
    Once he had checked things out at the Farm, there had been nothing to do but wait. The President of the Second National Bank of Sioux Falls, CONTBANK’s correspondent, with whom he had touched base, had called the manager of the airport and had a word with him. The result of this was that the tower would call Mr. Denn the moment he knew an Aero Commander with a General Hanrahan aboard was approaching.
    When, at eight o’clock, there had been no call from the airport, John H. Denn got into the rented station wagon and drove to the airport in Sioux Falls, leaving word with the caretaker to forward any calls to him at the airport manager’s office.
    At the airport, the manager told him there was no word of the Aero Commander.
    “But there’s somebody else waiting for them, Mr. Denn,” he said, nodding across the small terminal building. “He’s been here about an hour.”
    Standing erect, with hands folded against the small of his back, was a tall, dignified man in a fur-collared garbardine trench coat and a homburg. He wore a neatly cropped gray mustache. And he was black.
    “You’re sure?”
    “He had the aircraft call sign,” the manager confirmed.
    John H. Denn walked over to him.
    “Excuse me, sir,” he said. “I understand we’re waiting for the same airplane.”
    “We are?” the tall black man said.
    “My name is Denn. I’m with the Continental Illinois Bank, and I’m here to meet General Hanrahan and his party.”
    The black man took off his gray glove and extended his hand.
    “I am Colonel Parker,” he said. “How do you do? Is there any news?”
    The name was on the list, but he had not expected a black man.
    “None so far, Colonel,” Denn said.
    “While I have yet to abandon hope, Mr. Denn,” Colonel