The Hostage (Presidential Agent 2)

"That was quick," Kennedy said.

He reached for a petit four.

Castillo said, "My grandfather used to say the only things the Argentines do consistently well is eat."

Kennedy chuckled. "You going to tell me the nature of the personnel problem at the embassy?"

"Just as soon as you tell me what you're really doing here."

Kennedy smiled at him. "Now that I think about it, I really don't give much of a damn about personnel problems in the embassy."

"On the other hand, I'd really like to know what you're really doing here."

"I'm sure you would. But you're going to have to be satisfied with that it is neither illegal nor inimical to the interests of the United States."

"I could ask for no more," Castillo said, and then asked, "You ever see that Mel Gibson movie where they kidnap his kid?"

"No. I can't say that I have. I'd love to know why you're asking."

"It was the in-flight movie. I fell asleep in the middle, and I've been wondering how it turned out."

"I think you're serious."

"They kidnapped his kid, and he had to decide to pay the ransom, which his wife and the FBI wanted him to do, or not pay."

Kennedy shook his head.

"In a previous employment," Kennedy said, "I worked a half dozen big-dollar kidnappings. Big-dollar kidnappings are usually either inside jobs, in which case a couple of good interrogators can usually find out who done it in a matter of hours. Or they're professional jobs, in which case the victim is kept alive only long enough for them to collect the ransom. Phrased somewhat indelicately, if you pay the ransom, you lose the victim and the money. Does that satisfy your curiosity, Charley? What did Gibson do?"

"I told you I fell asleep before that happened."

"And now you'll lie awake nights wondering about it," Kennedy said sarcastically, and then asked, "How long are you going to be here, Charley?"

Castillo raised both hands in a Who the hell knows? gesture.

"Maybe we can have dinner," Kennedy said, "or drinks."

"I'd like that."

"How do I get in touch with you?"

"Here, I suppose."

"You don't have a cellular? Or you're not going to give me the number? Which?"

"You show me yours and I'll show you mine."

"Deal."

They exchanged cellular phones.

I know how come I have a cellular, even though I just got here.

So where did you get yours, Howard? Maybe you didn't just arrive in the obscene hours of the morning?

"Rushed right from the plane to the cellular store, did you, Charley?"

"Howard, it's not nice-didn't your mommy tell you?-to read other people's minds. But, to satisfy your curiosity, I got mine from the Secret Service guy here. The Secret Service takes care of its own. Where did you get yours?"