By Order of the President (Presidential Agent 1)

“It’s always a pleasure to see you, Matt,” the president said with a smile.

Major Carlos Guillermo Castillo, Aviation, U.S. Army, stood by the Yukon waiting for some indication of what he should do.

The president looked at him and smiled and then turned his back on the Yukon.

“Don’t tell me that’s your Texican linguist?” the president asked.

“That’s him, Mr. President,” the secretary said.

“That guy’s name is Guillermo Castillo?”

“Carlos Guillermo Castillo,” the secretary said, smiling. “Yes, sir, Mr. President.”

The president chuckled, and then with a smile and a friendly wave ordered Castillo onto the porch.

“Welcome to the island, Major,” the president said, offering him his hand.

“Thank you, Mr. President.”

“Where’s home, Major?” the president asked.

“San Antonio, sir,” Castillo said.

“I’ve got two questions for you, Major,” the president said. “The first is, can I offer you a beer?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you very much,” Castillo said.

The president took two bottles of beer from the bucket and handed one to Castillo and the other to Secretary Hall and then produced a bottle opener.

“Every time I try to twist one of the easy-open caps off, I cut the hell out of my hand,” the president announced. He waited a beat, then added with a grin: “Especially when they’re not twist-off caps.” He waved Hall and Castillo into wicker rockers and then sat down himself.

“My mother would tell me, Major, that a question like this is tacky, but I just have to ask it. You’re really not what I expected. Where did a fair-skinned, blue-eyed guy like you get a name like Carlos Guillermo Castillo?”

“My father’s family, sir, is part Texan and Mexican. My mother was German.”

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” the president said.

“The question comes up frequently, sir,” Castillo said. “Usually followed by, ‘Are you adopted?,’ to which I reply, sir, ‘No, it’s a question of genes.’ ”

The president chuckled, then grew serious.

“I guess the secretary has brought you up to speed on this,” he said.

“Yes, sir, he has.”

“What did he tell you?” the president asked.

Castillo’s somewhat bushy left eyebrow rose momentarily as he visibly gathered his thoughts.

“As I understood the secretary, Mr. President,” Castillo began, “a Boeing 727 that had been parked at the Luanda, Angola, airfield for fourteen months took off without clearance on 23 May and hasn’t been seen since. The incident is being investigated by just about all of our intelligence agencies, none of which has come up with anything about where the aircraft is or what happened to it. The secretary, sir, led me to believe that he wants me to conduct an investigation ..."

“I want you to conduct an investigation,” the president interrupted.

“Yes, sir. The purpose of my investigation would be to serve as sort of a check on the investigations of the various agencies involved . . .”

“What I’d like to know,” the president said, with a dry smile on his face and in his voice, “is what did they know, and when did they know it?’ ”

Secretary Hall chuckled.