W Griffin - Hunters

"Something specific?" Castillo asked.

"Well, how about the secretary of the Department of Homeland Security sticking his head in the door and saying, 'I really hate to do this to him, but I think you better get Charley on the horn and tell him to get back here as soon as he can.'"

"Well, that's certainly specific enough. Did he say why?"

"No. But it may have something to do with General Naylor having called him five minutes before-they put that call on your line by mistake."

"I wonder what he wants?"

"Or it may have something to do with our new liaison officer," Miller said.

"Our new what?"

"Ambassador Montvale has been kind enough to assign a liaison officer to the Office of Organizational Analysis. He was here first thing this morning, just bubbling over with enthusiasm to get right to work liaising things."

"That's the last thing we need! Montvale's surrogate's nose in our business."

"Or it may have something to do with what Mr. Ellsworth-our new liaison officer's name is Truman C. Ellsworth-brought with him when he came over this morning to start liaising."

"Which is?"

"This isn't even classified. It's just a standard interoffice memorandum from the director of National Intelligence to the chief of the Office of Organizational Analysis. It says that he thought you might be interested to know that he has learned from, quote, Central Intelligence Agency officers in Montevideo, Uruguay, and Buenos Aires, Argentina, end quote, that a man named Bertrand who was murdered in the course of a robbery in Uruguay has been tentatively identified as really being a UN diplomat named Lorimer and that Mr. Lorimer was the brother-in-law of the late J. Winslow Masterson."

"That's interesting, isn't it?" Castillo said. "Did the memo say anything about who might have robbed or murdered this man?"

"It says that, quote, the aforementioned officers have been directed to investigate this matter and to report their findings to the undersigned, end quote."

Castillo considered that a minute, then asked, "What do we hear about the world of high finance?"

"There's been a very nervous Chinaman asking about you every hour on the hour. I think he thinks he is about to be swooped upon by the IRS and carried off to Leavenworth for having too much money in his offshore account."

Castillo chuckled. "Given all that, yeah, I better come back. I don't know when I can catch a plane."

"If you can fit it into your busy schedule, you have a reservation on Continental 5566 departing San Antone at five forty-five. It will put you into Dulles, after only three stops and one change of planes, at half past eleven."

"Oh, shit!"

"Just a little jerk on your chain, Charley. Relax. It's nonstop. Mr. Forbison got the reservation for you."

"Okay. I will be sure to wake you when I come in, presuming I can get a cab at Dulles within three or four hours."

"You will be met by your own personal Yukon," Miller said. "She set that up, too. Look for a heavily armed man wearing a strained smile."

"You can call that off. I can catch a cab."

"Actually, Tom McGuire told Mr. F. to set it up. Get used to it, hotshot. You now really are a hotshot."

"I'll see you shortly, Dick. Thank you."

He broke the connection and carried the telephone to the veranda. Everyone there was waiting, patiently, sitting with a steak on a plate before him.

"What'd Dick want?" Fernando asked.

"Enjoy your steak. You're going to need your strength for the trip."

"Fernando, you're not going anywhere," Maria announced, firmly.

"You're going to leave him here when you go home?" Castillo asked, innocently.

"He's not going anywhere with you, period," Maria said.

"Who said anything about him going anywhere with me, question mark? I was thinking of the trip between here and Casa Lopez, period. What are you talking about, question mark?"

Fernando chuckled.

"You've been zinged, my dear," he said.

"Jorge, comma," Fernando M. Lopez, Jr., aged ten, asked his brother, "would you please pass the butter, question mark?"

"No, comma, I won't, exclamation point!" Jorge Lopez replied and giggled.

Abuela, who had been frowning, now smiled.

"I don't know why I even try," Maria said. "I should know better. I should just sit here and let Carlos make a fool of me while my husband and children laugh at me."

"The Gringo only makes fools of people he loves," Fernando said.

"Please don't call him that," Fernando Junior and Jorge said in unison, looking at their great-grandmother. "You know I don't like it."

Immediately, Fernando Junior added, "I don't like it, exclamation point!"

"My father warned me I was making a mistake marrying into this family," Maria said, but she was smiling. When the car came, Abuela went out to it with him.

It was a silver Jaguar XJ8.

"Nice wheels, Abuela," Charley said. "New, huh?"

"Fernando sent a Mercedes out here," she said. "A twelve-cylinder one. Black. I made him take it back. I felt like a Mafia gangster. This one I can drive myself."

"Ah, the truth about how Maria came into her Mafia mobile!"

"Well, it just made sense to let Maria have it. Otherwise, he would have lost a lot of money. You just can't turn a new car back in."

"And Maria doesn't mind feeling like a Mafia gangster?"

"I'm glad this didn't come up while she was here," Abuela said. "Darling, do you really have to tease her all the time?"

"Hey, I saw you smiling when the boys started to speak the punctuation."

"They are clever, aren't they? They remind me so much of you and Fernando."

"That should be a frightening prospect."

She didn't respond to that.

"That's what you need, Carlos. Boys of your own. A nice family."

"I have a nice family. I just don't have a wife."

"And there have been no developments along that line that you'd like to tell me about?"

"Has Fernando been running off at the mouth again?"

"How is the lady Secret Service agent?"

"She has her jaws wired shut. If I can get her to agree to leave the wires in, maybe something could be worked out."

"I don't think that's funny, Carlos."

He looked down at his feet.

"The wires in her jaw aren't," he said. "I'm sorry I said that."

"You should be."

He looked Abuela in the eyes.

"I'm going to have to go to Europe for a couple of days. I'll go from New York and stop off in Philadelphia to see her."

"Fernando said she's very nice."

"She is."

She nodded at him, then leaned up and kissed him.

"Via con Dios, mi amor," she said.

He got in the front seat with the driver.

As the car rolled away from the sprawling, red-tile-roofed Spanish-style big house, he turned in the seat and looked out the back window. Abuela was standing where he had left her.

She's right. I do need boys like Fernando's, and a wife-a family.

He watched Abuela until the road curved and then he thought of Betty Schneider.

Maybe the time has come. God knows I've never felt about any other woman the way I feel about Betty.

[ONE] Washington Dulles International Airport Dulles, Virginia 2340 3 August 2005 Castillo smiled when he came out of the Jetway and entered the terminal. There waiting for him was indeed a heavily armed man wearing a strained smile. He was standing behind a wheelchair on which sat, one leg supported vertically in front of him, Major H. Richard Miller, Jr.

He wondered for a moment how they'd got into the security area, then felt a little foolish when the answer came to him: Wave your Secret Service credentials and you can go anywhere in an airport you want.

"Mr. Castillo," the Secret Service agent said, "Major Miller said he didn't think you would have any checked baggage."