Hunted by William W. Johnstone

certainly can’t have that.”
    â€œWhere is Al Reaux?”
    The D/DIRNSA lifted an eyebrow at that. “You want to send in the first team?”
    â€œMight as well. This has to be big.”
    â€œIt must be. Do you have any idea what it’s all about?”
    â€œNot a clue. But whatever it is, I don’t want to be left out of it. Hell, we can’t be left out.”
    â€œI agree. We should have been the first to be notified.”
    The general buzzed his secretary. “Find Al Reaux and get him in here.”
    * * *
    Rick Battle finally found his voice. “You’re putting me on!”
    Darry shook his head. “No.”
    â€œBut that is impossible!” Rick insisted.
    â€œNo. I’m told there are others like me, but they’ve managed to avoid detection over the long years. I have no idea where they might be. I met one during this country’s civil war, but lost track of him at Gettysburg.”
    â€œAre you sitting there and telling me straight-faced that you fought in the goddamn Civil War?”
    â€œI fought in this country’s revolutionary war.”
    â€œJesus Christ!” With a very shaky hand, Rick poured himself a fresh cup of coffee.
    â€œI knew you suspected something after you brought me that copy of the National Loudmouth.”
    â€œI can’t believe this, Darry. My mind just won’t accept it.”
    â€œI don’t blame you.”
    â€œHave you . . . ah ... ever been married, Darry?”
    â€œNo. That would be very unfair to the woman. She would age and I would not. I have had many close relationships—many. But I always have to leave. Joan knew who I was, and finally sent me away.”
    â€œJoan?”
    â€œJeanne d’Arc.”
    â€œYou had an affair with Joan of Arc?”
    â€œNot a physical affair. But one of the heart.”
    â€œJoan of Arc!”
    â€œYes. She was a saint. Truly. The Church finally realized that in 1920, under the rule of Pope Benedict the XV. One does not engage in pleasures of the flesh with a saint. It would be . . . unseemly.”
    â€œUnseemly!” Rick shook his head, his coffee cooling and forgotten. “Were you . . . ah, there, ah . . .”
    â€œWhen she was burned? Yes. That was . . . 1431. It was not pleasant to look upon. Our eyes met several times before her soul left her body.”
    â€œYou loved her?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œMy God, my God!”
    â€œHer final words.”
    * * *
    â€œThis really pisses me off,” the general said, waving a sheet of paper at Army Intelligence Agency headquarters. “Everybody and their brother is racing toward Idaho, and we sit here with our thumb up our ass.”
    â€œWhat’s going on in Idaho?”
    â€œHell, I don’t know. But it’s big. Has to be. I want somebody on this and I want them on it right now.”
    â€œMajor Waters is wrapping up out at Fort Lewis.”
    â€œGet him on this immediately. I want to know what the hell is going on.”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    * * *
    The vehicle unloaded, rafts inflated, supplies safely stowed and lashed down, Dr. Ray Collier smiled at his family. “Is everybody ready to go?”
    â€œYeah!” Paul and Terri shouted.
    Karen smiled at her husband. Ray and Terri would be in the lead rubber raft, she and Paul in the second raft. They had all done this before, but never on a river this wild. They had talked about hiring a guide, but all had reached the conclusion that would take some of the fun out of the trip. They decided to go it alone.
    â€œAll right!” Ray shouted. “Man your boats!”
    â€œPerson your boats,” his young daughter corrected.
    Ray laughed. “She’ll be president of NOW before she’s out of her teens.”
    The Collier family shoved off and were soon lost from view around a bend in the river.
    * * *
    â€œIf keelhauling was still in practice, I’d order it done,” the