By Order of the President (Presidential Agent 1)

“Honey, come on. I’m thinking of you. Listen to me. I can probably catch a plane later today. When I get home, we can talk about it.”

She didn’t reply.

“Sweetheart, will you do me a favor?”

“What?”

“Ask General Stevens if he can come to the office—or if we can go to his—first thing tomorrow morning.”

The Citibank meeting will just have to wait. I simply can’t let her go off the deep end again.

Why the hell didn’t I bring the goddamned Lear? Because it’s throwing money down the goddamned toilet to use it to carry one man in a six-passenger airplane.

I wonder if I can charter one?

Slow down, for Christ’s sake. Nobody’s at death’s door. I’ll be there later today; that’s soon enough.

“If you like,” she said, coldly.

“I don’t know what flight I can catch, sweetheart. But I’ll be on the first plane to Dallas I can catch this afternoon. And I’ll have the Lear sent to Dallas to meet me. All right?”

“Do whatever you want,” Alicia said.

“And in the meantime, please don’t do anything, or say anything, you might regret later.”

For an answer, she hung up on him.

Juan Fernando Castillo calmly put the telephone back in its cradle.

Then he looked up at the ceiling. Then he raised his spread arms above his shoulders.

“Jesus Christ, God!” he cried. “Don’t do this to her! She has suffered enough.”

[TEN]

Passenger Lounge, Hobie Aviation Services Love Field Dallas, Texas 2005 12 March 1981

“What do you mean, it’s not here?” Juan Fernando Castillo demanded incredulously of the customer services agent.

For reasons known only to God, the Lear can’t go into Dallas-Fort Worth International, and after I shuttle all the way over here from Dallas-Fort Worth the goddamned Lear isn’t here?

“I’m sorry, Mr. Castillo. It’s just not here, sir.”

“May I please use that telephone?”

“Yes, of course, sir.”

He punched in a number from memory and a moment later heard, “Lemes Aviation.”

"Who’s this?”

"Ralph Porter.”

“Ralph, this is Fernando Castillo.”

“How can I help you, Don Fernando?”

“You can tell me where the hell my Lear is. I’m at Love and it’s not here.”