"I want to get back here as quickly as I can."

"May I suggest, sir, that we send the corporal to the Marine House in one of my cars? That will save time, and so far as security for yourself is concerned, there will be two SIDE cars with you."

Or I could ride with SIDE, and send Bradley in the embassy car.

But if I do that, and these bastards want to-what did Tom McGuire say?-"send a message" by taking me out, then I might have two dead Marines on my conscience. And, God, I don't want that.

"Major Querrina has kindly offered one of his cars to take you to the Marine House." He saw Bradley's face drop. "Corporal, you will go in one of their cars, which will bring you back here to the hospital. That's not open for discussion."

"Aye, aye, sir," Bradley said, with a visible lack of enthusiasm. [THREE] El Presidente de la Rua Suite The Four Seasons Hotel Cerrito 1433 Buenos Aires, Argentina 2240 24 July 2005 "Why don't you fix yourself a drink, Major?" Castillo said to Querrina as they came into the sitting room of the suite. "I won't be long."

"Very kind of you, sir. But no thank you. I have the duty."

"I have it, too," Castillo said. "But there are exceptions to every rule, and I have just decided this is one of those times."

He walked to the bar and poured an inch and a half of Famous Grouse into a glass. He took a sip, and then held the glass up in a second invitation.

"As you say, sir, there are always exceptions," Querrina said.

"Help yourself, I won't be long," Castillo said, and carried his glass into the bedroom and closed the door.

He found a socket for the cellular charger behind the bedside table and plugged it in. When he connected his cellular to it, he found that he wasn't going to have to sit on the floor. He laid the charging cellular on the bed, and then started to pack.

It didn't take him long, and he was just about to zip the bag closed when he remembered the bill he'd gotten at the desk. There was no sense carrying that around in his pocket for God knows how long, and he couldn't just toss it, because the Teutonically efficient financial department of the Tages Zeitung demanded a copy of his bills to compare with what American Express said he had spent.

He patted his pockets, found the bill, and started to put it in his laptop briefcase when a warning light lit up in the back of his brain.

What the hell is wrong?

He looked at the bill carefully.

Well, the Four Seasons doesn't give its accommodations away. But there's nothing on here out of the ordinary-

Except that it's made out to Karl Gossinger.

There's nothing wrong with that, either, except that Gossinger entered the country, which means Castillo didn't, and Castillo's going to leave tomorrow. All sorts of questions would be asked about the German national getting on the USAF Globemaster with the Widow Masterson and her husband's body.

Shit!

You fucked up again, Inspector Clouseau!

As a practical matter, however, when Argentine Immigration shows up at Ezeiza, I don't think they are going to peer suspiciously at C. G. Castillo's passport to see if he entered the country legally, especially since C. G. Castillo will be surrounded by SIDE agents.

So what I'll do is hand them my American passport, hope they don't look closely, and worry about Gossinger's immigration problems later.

He put the Four Seasons bill in the briefcase and checked to make sure Gossinger's passport was concealed in the lid with his other alter ego identification.

Then he sat on the bed and pushed an autodial number.

A deep-voiced male answered, "?Hola?"

"My name is Castillo," he said in Spanish. "May I speak with Senor Pevsner, please?"

"One moment, senor."

Castillo glanced around the room and saw something he hadn't seen before. On the bedside table on the other side of the bed was some sort of package. Whatever it was, it was wrapped in tissue, and a rose lay across it.

What the hell is that?

Tags: W.E.B. Griffin Presidential Agent Thriller
Source: readsnovelonline.net