The Shooters (Presidential Agent 4)

Then he gestured for the sergeant to open the door. There came the sound of a solenoid buzzing, and then Crawford pushed the door open.

He led them to an elevator, waved them onto it, then punched in a code on a control panel to make the elevator operable. It rose two floors. He led them down a corridor to an unmarked door-also equipped with a keypad-punched in the code, and then pushed open that door.

They entered an outer office, and he led them through that to a larger office and then gestured for them to sit in the leather-upholstered chairs.

"I'm sorry I kept you waiting," he said. "The cold truth of the matter is my wife flipped when I told her I had to come down here. I was not in a very good mood. Can we start all over?"

"My name is Castillo, Mr. Crawford. How are you tonight?"

"Thanks. I think I just told you how I am. How are you, Lorimer?"

"I'm fine, thank you."

"You're now working for the Office of Organizational Analysis, I understand. What's that all about? What is the Office of Organizational Analysis?"

Castillo answered for him.

"And that transfer, Mr. Crawford," he concluded, "was already in the works when Special Agent Timmons went missing," he said. "I brought Lorimer with me because he had been stationed here. I've never been in Paraguay."

"Do you speak Spanish?"

Castillo nodded. "I'm a Texican."

"A what?"

"A Texan with Mexican roots. I speak Mexican Spanish."

I also can pass myself off as a Porteno, and after I'm here three days, people will swear that I sound just like whatever they call the natives here. Asuncionites?

But the less qualified you think I am, the better.

"I heard you were coming here, Mr. Costello…"

"Castillo," Castillo corrected him.

"Castillo. Sorry. But not from Deputy Director Lammelle. Actually, it was back-channel."

"You want to call Lammelle and check my bona fides before this goes any further?"

"No. I understand you're here officially; there's no need to bother Deputy Director Lammelle. But I don't know exactly why you're here."

"There's unusual interest in Special Agent Timmons. My boss sent me down to find out what I can."

"And your boss is?" Crawford asked, casually.

"And

to report to him what I find out," Castillo went on.

"You didn't say who your boss is."

"No, I didn't."

"Are those Secret Service credentials the real thing?"

"About as real as your 'commercial attache' diplomatic carnet. If somebody were to call the Secret Service, they would be told there is indeed a Supervisory Special Agent by the came of Castillo."

"Exactly what is it that you want from me, Mr. Castillo?"