The Hunters (Presidential Agent 3)

Washington, D.C.

0825 11 August 2005

“Welcome home, Chief,” Mr. Agnes Forbison, deputy chief for administration of the Office of Organizational Analysis, greeted Castillo as he led Torine, Miller, and Britton off of the elevator. “Or would you prefer that I now call you ‘Colonel’?”

“I’d prefer that you call me Charley, Agnes.”

She walked to him and kissed his cheek.

“We’ve been over that,” she said, evenly. “You are now too important to be addressed by your nickname. So, which do you prefer?”

“I give up,” Castillo said. “You choose.”

“‘Chief’ has a nicer ring to it,” she said. “This town is too full of colonels. No offense, Colonel Torine.”

“None taken,” Torine said.

She looked at Britton. “I like your jacket, Jack.”

“Thank you,” Britton said. “It’s all I’ve got to wear. I hadn’t planned to come to Washington.”

“What’s first, Agnes?” Castillo asked.

“Well, there’s already someone in my office waiting to see you,” she said as she led the way to the door of Castillo’s office—marked PRIVATE NO ADMITTANCE—slid what looked like an all-white credit card through the reader mounted by the lock, then pushed the door open and handed the card to Castillo.

They all followed her through the open door.

“First is getting me back to Pennsylvania,” Britton said.

“First is credit cards,” Agnes corrected him. “You wouldn’t want to leave home without your American Express card, would you, Jack?”

“I’ve got an American Express card,” Britton said.

“Not one of these, you don’t,” Agnes said. “They came in yesterday.”

She went to Castillo’s desk, opened a drawer, and collected what looked like half a dozen Platinum American Express cards. She handed one card to Britton and others to Castillo and Torine and put the rest back in the drawer.

“Miller’s already got one and so do I,” she said.

Britton examined his.

“What the hell is Gossinger Consultants, Inc.?” he asked.

“Well, I needed a name of a nongovernmental organization to spend Lorimer’s money,” she said. “And that seemed reasonably appropriate. The cards are coded so no questions will be asked in case somebody wants to buy a lot of airplane gas.”

“That’s aviation fuel, Agnes,” Castillo said, smiling. “You’re amazing.”

“I told you I was going to be useful,” she said. “And the Riggs Bank is going to get us checks on the Gossinger Consultants account as soon as they can. Which may mean today but probably means in three or four days. You all have to sign signature cards and I have to get them back to the bank before you can write checks.”

She turned to Torine.

“Gossinger Consultants is now the official owner of the Gulfstream,” she said. “And Signature Flight Support at BWI is going to direct bill the corporation for hangar space, maintenance, aviation fuel, and so forth.”

“Yesterday, I had to give them Charley’s credit card,” Torine said.

“It probably hasn’t worked its way through the bureaucracy,” she said. “I’ll give them a call and switch over the charge.”

“We have a corporation?” Castillo asked.