By Order of the President (Presidential Agent 1) - Page 268

“I probably will. But if I do, my party will be a little larger than originally planned.”

“Why does that worry me?”

“It shouldn’t. One of the people will be my cousin and the other two will be soldiers, taking sort of a busman’s holiday. ”

“None of whom, I hope, have ever heard of me?”

“None of them have ever heard of you.”

“I don’t know why the hell I trust you, Mr. Gossinger. Maybe it’s that boyishly honest face you have.”

“But you do, right?”

“Against my better judgment.”

“Tell me, does the Grande Cozumel Beach and Golf Resort have a flat roof?”

“Now that you mention it, yes, it does. Is that important, somehow?”

“And the rooms you’ve reserved for me, are they on the top floor?”

“No. As a matter of fact, you can walk directly from your accommodations onto the beach. We’ve put you into the Jack Nicklaus Suite. Will that be satisfactory?”

“That’s very kind, but we’d much prefer to be on the top floor, which would give us a good view of the beach and where we could watch the waves go up and down. Will that be a problem?”

“Not at all. You’ll be among friends here, one of whom happens to own the hotel. Your every wish will be our command. ”

Jesus, is he telling me Pevsner’s there?

“How nice!”

“I was about to suggest that the best way to get here, probably, is through Miami.”

"I have a plane.”

"What kind of a plane?”

"A Lear 45X. Getting there will be no problem. But I always worry about getting delayed at customs.”

“Put your mind at rest about customs. When may we expect the pleasure of your company?”

“I’ll call again when I know.”

“I’ll be expecting your call, Mr. Gossinger.”

When he put his cellular telephone back in his pocket, he saw that Betty Schneider and Fernando were looking at him. She had a telephone in her hand, her palm covering the mouthpiece.

“This one’s for Supervisory Special Agent Castillo of the Secret Service,” she said. “Wouldn’t give his name.”

He nodded and took the telephone from her.

“Castillo.”

“Something wrong with your cellular, Charley?” the secretary of the Department of Homeland Security said.

“Sir, I was talking to . . . my new friend from Vienna.”

“What did he have to say?”

Tags: W.E.B. Griffin Presidential Agent Thriller
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