Black Ops (Presidential Agent 5)

He left the bathroom, carrying both the coffeepot and a plastic mug, and headed for the balcony that overlooked the beach.

Max followed.

It was a beautiful day. A little chilly, but going back in their bedroom for one of the terry-cloth robes probably would wake Svet. And there were no robes in the second bathroom; he had looked.

He took another sip of the coffee, grimaced as he swallowed, set down the cup, and then, resting his hands on the balcony railing, looked down at the beach.

A group of sturdy souls in T-shirts and shorts were double-timing down the beach, headed by Lieutenant General Bruce J. McNab.

Immediately, memories came to him of Second Lieutenant Castillo jogging after Brigadier General McNab all over picturesque Fort Bragg. General McNab was a devotee of physical conditioning in general and early-morning jogging in particular.

"I wonder how I got excused from this morning's jaunt?" he asked Max, who didn't reply.

He had just acquired the answer--If the general thinks the FBI is watching the airplane, to locate if not detain me, the general thinks there is a strong possibility they might be watching the Portofino Island Resort & Spa for the same purpose-- when a bonging announced that someone was at the door.

"That, Max, is either the FBI or, more than likely, someone McNab sent to summon me for the morning run."

Castillo worried more than a little about the former possibility--particularly as it might apply to Svetlana--while he rushed to open the door before the chimes bonged again and awoke her.

He pulled it open.

"Good morning, sir," a trim, dark-haired young man of fourteen said. He wore khaki pants and an obviously brand-new T-shirt bearing Naval Aviator wings and the legend U.S. NAVAL AVIATION MUSEUM.

"Did I wake you, sir?" Randolph J. Richardson IV said politely.

"No, Randy. I had to get up to answer the doorbell. Come on in."

They somewhat formally shook hands.

"Thank you, sir."

Max put his front paws on Randy's shoulders and enthusiastically lapped his face.

"You're with your dad?" Castillo asked.

"He had to come here to get wheels to meet some guy at the airport."

"Yes, that's right. I'd forgotten."

Colonel J. Porter Hamilton of the U.S. Army Medical Research Institute is due in at 0815.

McNab sent Righteous Randolph to meet him.

"I told him that you had called and said you wanted to introduce me to General McNab."

What the hell?

"Why did you do that, Randy?"

"Otherwise, he wouldn't have brought me over here."

"Why did you want to come over here?"

"I have a couple of questions, sir."

Castillo waved the boy onto a couch.

"Have you had your breakfast?"