The Hostage (Presidential Agent 2)

"Major," Castillo ordered. "Everybody in here. They can deal with the luggage later."

The major nodded and walked to the now-stopped Gulfstream, its engines winding down.

The door opened, and a stocky man in a business suit appeared in the doorway. The major handed him th

e second umbrella. The major pointed to the bus, and the man nodded, opened the umbrella, and started toward the bus.

Special Agent Elizabeth Schneider appeared next in the doorway.

Major Castillo's heart jumped.

Special Agent Schneider looked around, saw the bus, saw Major Castillo in it, smiled, and gave a little wave.

Major Castillo's heart jumped again. Harder.

Jossman held the umbrella for Special Agent Schneider and walked with her to the bus. They got there as the stocky man came through the door.

"My name is…" he started to say, but then noticed Agent Yung. "Well, hello, Dave."

Yung looked up from his lined yellow pad.

"Hey, Paul," he said, then, "Mr. Castillo, this is Special Agent Paul Holtzman."

"I'm supposed to report to you, sir," Holtzman said. "I'm the senior agent."

He didn't offer his hand.

"Hand your umbrella to the major, please," Castillo said. "And take a seat. I'll save what I have until everyone's on board."

It had been Major Castillo's firm intention to greet Special Agent Schneider formally.

She blew this plan out of the water by smiling at him again, then sitting down next to him, innocently resting her hand on his shoulder in the process, and saying, "Hello, Charley," so close to him that he could smell her breath.

Peppermint. They had apparently issued chewing gum to counter the pressure differential that occurs when an aircraft makes a rapid descent from cruising to approach altitude.

So the plan to greet Special Agent Schneider with "Good to see you again, Schneider," or words to that effect, was replaced with, "Jesus, I'm glad to see you."

As he also became aware of Special Agent Schneider's perfume, he became simultaneously aware that Special Agent Yung hadn't missed a thing.

It took several minutes for the umbrella shuttle to get everybody off the Gulfstream into the bus, including the crew. Special Agent Jack Britton was about the fifth man to climb onto the bus, and for a moment Castillo didn't recognize him. The last time Castillo had seen him, Britton had been wearing a somewhat straggly beard and the Philadelphia conception of Arabic robes, and his hair had been both cornrowed and embedded with beadery.

Now his hair was neatly cut. He wore a well-fitted suit. He looked, Castillo thought, like Colin Powell.

Britton's grip was firm.

"I don't know the protocol-am I supposed to call you 'sir'?-but it's good to see you."

"Charley's fine, Jack. It's good to see you, too. Ready to go to work?"

"I would like to visit a gentleman's rest facility first; the one on the airplane went on the fritz somewhere over Brazil. And if possible, I'd like to get something to eat."

"There's probably a men's room in the hangar. You want to take a chance? What's going to happen here won't take long. And then it's about ten minutes to the hotel."

Britton looked at the driving rain and said, "I think I'll wait."

While this was going on, Castillo was more than a little aware that Special Agent Schneider's upper leg was pressed against his, no doubt only because the seats in the Mercedes Traffik seemed to have been designed for midgets.

Finally, everyone was aboard.