The Shooters (Presidential Agent 4)

"That many," Castillo said, pointing to the others, who were now standing around the Yukons. "Less Doherty, who'll probably go home."

Agnes used her index finger to count Colonel Jake Torine, USAF; First Lieutenant Edmund Lorimer, USA; Corporal Lester Bradley, USMC; Sergeant Major John K. Davidson, USA; Colonel Alfredo Munz; Edgar Delchamps; Special Agent David W. Yung of the FBI; Sandor Tor; and Eric Kocian.

"Not counting Inspector Doherty," she computed aloud, "that's nine, plus you and Dick. That's a total of eleven. No problem. There's six bedrooms all with double beds. One of you will actually be alone."

"That would be me, madam," Eric Kocian announced, advancing on her. "The sacrifices I am willing to make to contribute to this enterprise do not include sharing a bedroom."

"Mrs. Forbison, Eric Kocian," Castillo said.

"I am charmed, madam," Kocian said, taking the hand Agnes extended and raising it to his lips.

From the look on her face-the pleased look-I think it's been some time since she has had her hand kissed.

"I hope you will not take offense, madam," Kocian went on, "if I say I have urgent need of a restroom, preferably one inside?"

"We'll put you in my room, Billy," Castillo said. "I'll bunk with Miller."

"Splendid!" Kocian said.

"Has this place got a fenced backyard?" Castillo asked.

"Uh-huh," Agnes said.

"If you'll show me that, I'll put Max and Madchen out, and Tom can show the old gentleman to his quarters-"

"Old gentleman!" Kocian snorted.

"-and then we can get everybody settled in before we have to face the dragon."

Agnes's tour of the house ended in a small study. Bookcases lined three of its walls. A stuffed mallard and two stuffed fish-a trout and a king mackerel-were mounted on the remaining wall. There were a few books scattered on the shelves, mostly ten-year-old and older novels. Windows opened to the left and rear. Through it, Castillo saw that floodlights around a decent-sized swimming pool had been turned on. Max was happily paddling about in the pool while Madchen stood on the side and barked at him.

The study was furnished with a small desk, a well-worn blue leather judge's chair, and a soiled, well-worn chaise lounge, none of which had obviously struck the heirs as worth taking.

There was a telephone on the desk, but Castillo didn't pay much attention to it until it buzzed and a red light began to flash on its base. Then he saw the thick cord that identified it as a secure telephone.

Agnes picked it up.

"C. G. Castillo's line," she said, then, "Yes, the colonel is available for Ambassador Montvale," and handed him the phone.

"Castillo."

"Charles Montvale, Colonel. We will be at your door in approximately five minutes."

"I'm looking forward to it, sir," Castillo replied, and then, when a click told him that Montvale had hung up, added, "about as much as I would visiting an Afghan dentist with a foot-powered drill."

Agnes looked at him.

"I gather you're speaking from experience?"

"Painful experience," Castillo said. "With both."

"How do you want to handle this?"

"I will receive the ambassador in here, where he will find me carefully studying my computer, which I will close when he enters. Have everybody but Kocian, Tor, Bradley, and, of course, Lieutenant Lorimer in the living room. We'll have to bring chairs from the kitchen or someplace else for them, I guess."

The living room had a beamed ceiling, a brick fireplace, and hardwood floors. There were two small and rather battered carpets that the children of the former owner also had apparently decided were not of value to them. Marks on the floor showed where the valuable carpets had lain, and marks on the wall showed where picture frames had hung.

There were four red leather armchairs and a matching couch that also had apparently missed the cut, although they looked fine to Castillo. Another stuffed trout was mounted above the fireplace, and there was some kind of animal hoof-maybe an elk's, Castillo guessed-converted into an ashtray that sat on a heavy and battered coffee table scarred with whiskey glass rings and cigarette burns.