By Order of the President (Presidential Agent 1) - Page 86

“Will you have some champagne, madam?” he asked, in German.

The lanky blonde replied, in not bad German, “Yes, thank you, I will.”

The steward offered the tray to her and then to Castillo, who wondered, Why is “steward” okay and “stewardess” some sort of slam? and then said, in German, “You will go to heaven because you have just saved my life.”

The lanky blonde smiled.

He raised his glass to the blonde.

“To a pleasant flight,” he said.

“To a pleasant flight,” she parroted and touched glasses with him.

“Why do you think Lufthansa picked you for an upgrade? ” he asked.

Goddamned pity I’ll be in Germany only long enough to change planes.

“I’m a journalist,” she said.

Oh, shit.

“Really?”

“I work for Forbes. The magazine? It happens a lot if I make sure they know I work for Forbes.”

“I know,” he said. “Same thing.”

“You’re a journalist? Who do you work for?”

“The Fulda Tages Zeitung,” Castillo said. “A small newspaper in Hesse. I write mostly about American business.”

“There or here? I couldn’t help but notice that your English is just about perfect.”

“I’m based in Washington,” he said. “And I’ve been here a while.”

“Going home on vacation?”

“I vacation whenever I can find something to write about in Florida,” he said. “That way the paper pays for it. No, I’m going because they sent for me. They do that every once in a while to make sure I’m not being corrupted by you decadent Americans.”

Jesus, it would be nice if just once when I met a good-looking female I could tell her the truth about who I am and what I do.

But to do that, I would have to have a job that I could talk about.

“Well, I’m a district sales manager for Whirlpool. You know, washing machines?”

“You don’t look as if you would be easy to corrupt,” she said.

“Oh, you’re wrong,” Castillo said. “I can only hope you won’t take advantage of me.”

She laughed at that, displaying a nice set of teeth and bright red gums.

“No promises,” she said and offered her hand. “Patricia Wilson. Pat.”

Her hand was warm and soft.

“My name is Karl, but I try to get people to call me Charley,” he said.

“Nice to meet you, Charley.”

Tags: W.E.B. Griffin Presidential Agent Thriller
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