The Hostage (Presidential Agent 2)

"I'm Castillo. You're looking for me?"

"Solez, Mr. Castillo. DEA. I was told to report to you and do whatever you told me to do."

"Do you speak Spanish, Mr. Solez?" Castillo said in Spanish.

"I spoke it before I learned to speak English," Solez replied in Spanish.

Castillo picked up on the accent.

"And where are you from in Texas?" Castillo asked, still in Spanish.

"San Antone, senor."

"Me, too."

"Yes, sir, I know."

"How do you know?"

"My father is Antonio Solez, sir. I think you know him."

Antonio Solez had been one of Castillo's grandfather's cronies, a familiar face around both the offices and the ranches, and a pallbearer at the funeral of Don Juan Fernando Castillo. A mental image of him, a large swarthy man, standing across the open grave with his chest heaving and tears running unashamedly down his cheeks, leaped into Castillo's mind.

"Indeed I do. How is he?"

"Still taking care of Don Fernando," Solez said, with a smile. It took a moment for Charley to take his meaning. He smiled back.

"When did my fat and ugly cousin start calling himself 'Don Fernando'?"

"People started calling him that after Don Fernando passed. I think he likes it. Dona Alicia does, I know."

"You're Ricardo, right? The last I heard you were at College Station."

"Si, senor. I graduated in 2001, and went right into the DEA."

"You don't have to call me 'sir.' And please don't."

Solez nodded.

"Why didn't you say something when we were at that brainstorming thing?" Castillo asked.

Solez shrugged. "I wasn't sure you would remember me."

"I should have recognized you. I'm sorry."

Solez shrugged again. "No problem. You had other things on your mind. We're both a long way from San Antonio."

"I'm really happy to see you, Ricardo," Castillo said. "You heard what happened?"

Solez nodded.

"She's in the operating room now," Castillo said. "She'll be in there for probably another two hours. From the moment she gets off the elevator until I get out of here, I want you or Special Agent Britton-you know each other?"

"We met."

"Since you're talking about me, I wish you'd do it in English, Charley," Britton said.

"Sorry," Charley said, now in English. "It seems that Special Agent Solez is not only a fellow Texican, but his family and mine have been friends for generations."