The Shooters (Presidential Agent 4)

Max, not without effort, got to his feet and backed into the aisle.

"Good boy!"

Castillo pushed Max backward up the aisle until he had access to the drawer under his seat. He bent over and pulled it open. Max took two steps and licked Castillo's face.

"Sonofabitch!" Castillo said, and, pushing at Max to back up, realized the dog probably thought he was playing.

Castillo reached into t

he drawer and pulled his laptop from it.

Max kissed him again.

"Aw, goddammit!"

"I think he likes you, Colonel," Sergeant Neidermeyer said.

Castillo looked up at Neidermeyer.

"This is one of those times when I wish I was not a field-grade officer," Castillo said.

"Sir?"

"If we were both sergeants, I could tell you to take a flying fuck at a rolling doughnut," Castillo said.

"With all due respect, Colonel, sir, it is not the sergeant's fault that the animal seems to like you, sir."

"Does the sergeant have something on what is loosely known as his mind?"

"Yes, sir. The sergeant thought the colonel might be interested in some photographs the sergeant took in Louisiana, or, more precisely, Colonel, sir, as we were flying over Mississippi and Louisiana, sir."

He handed Castillo a large manila envelope.

Castillo took it from him and removed the photographs. There were twenty or more eight-by-ten-inch crisp color prints. Just about all of them were photographs of the hurricane damage they had seen from the air.

"Nice, Jamie," Castillo said. "What's the chances of getting a set of these?"

"I made those for you," Neidermeyer said.

"Thanks, Jamie," Castillo said. "I appreciate that."

He was now nearly at the end of the stack of photographs.

The one he had on top of the stack now was of him and the Richardson boy. They had both turned in their seats to look into the rear of the airplane-Neidermeyer must have done something, called something, to get us to turn and look at him-Castillo was turned in his seat to his right, and the Richardson boy to his left, the result being their heads were close together.

"Nice kid," Neidermeyer said. "If I didn't know better, I'd think he was yours."

"What?"

"He's got your eyes, Colonel," Neidermeyer said.

"I have so far been spared the joys of matrimony and-so far as I know-of parenthood."

"The eyes, Colonel. They're as blue as yours. That's what I mean."

No, he doesn't look like me.

I'm blond and fair-skinned.