The Hostage (Presidential Agent 2)

"Goodbye, Alex."

Pevsner switched to German: "Not goodbye. Auf wiedersehen."

Castillo broke the connection, then looked at the cellular.

Flash! CNN and the New York Times have learned that C. G. Castillo, the President's not-so-secret agent, is a close personal friend of Aleksandr Pevsner, the infamous Russian arms dealer and all-around bad guy. Their source is an unnamed FBI agent whose reports have been reliable in the past.

S

hit!

He put the cellular in his pocket.

What the hell is in that tissue-wrapped package?

He walked around the bed, pushed the rose on top of the package out of the way, and untied the bow that held the tissue paper in place.

The package contained the freshly laundered brassiere and underpants of Special Agent Elizabeth Schneider, which the room maid had apparently found where they had been kicked under the bed.

"Oh, Jesus!" Castillo breathed.

With some difficulty-his eyes were watering-Castillo rewrapped the intimate apparel and put it in his laptop briefcase, in the space beside the extendable handle.

Then he swallowed hard, breathed deeply, and picked up his bag and the briefcase and went into the sitting room.

"Okay, Major," he said. "All done. Let's go." [FOUR] Room 677 The German Hospital Avenida Pueyrredon Buenos Aires, Argentina 2340 24 July 2005 Corporal Lester Bradley, USMC, was visibly relieved to see Castillo when he got off the elevator.

"All packed, Corporal?" Castillo asked.

"Yes, sir," Bradley replied. "Sir, the gunny said, in case he misses you tomorrow, to tell you thanks."

"For what?"

"For sending me with Sergeant Markham."

Castillo nodded but didn't reply. He turned to Jack Britton. "The hotel's moved your stuff and Betty's to my room, Jack. The bill's taken care of. Tom McGuire said to tell you to send an in-flight advisory as soon as the Gulfstream enters American airspace, giving your ETA in Philadelphia. The Secret Service will meet the plane."

Britton nodded. "Send it to who?"

Shit! Castillo thought. He said, "That little detail got overlooked. Send it to Philadelphia Approach Control, with a copy to the office of the secretary of Homeland Security, personal attention Secretary Hall. That ought to get their attention. You're also probably going to refuel at MacDill Air Force Base. There's Secret Service people there. Find them, and tell them."

"Got it."

Castillo nodded and then slowly opened the door to room 677.

There wasn't much light, just a small lamp on the bedside table, over which the stout nurse had draped a blue cloth.

"Did she wake up?" Castillo asked softly.

"She's starting to," the nurse said.

Castillo walked to the bed and looked down at Betty.

She looked gray.

The stout nurse tugged at his arm, and he turned to look at her.

She had a cheap white stackable plastic chair in her hands. Charley had heard-he didn't know if it was true-that they were molded from the recycled plastic of milk cartons and Coke bottles.