That triggered an uncomfortable thought: Jesus, I've been telling these people I'm Secret Service and/or Hall's executive assistant and here I am in my Class As.

Three cops got out of the police cars. All were wearing the leather jackets of the Highway Patrol. One of them was a burly man with a lieutenant's bars on his jacket epaulets.

Ah, the brother who's going to break both my legs. I told him – or at least let him think – I'm in the DEA.

Shit!

As Fernando was shutting down the Lear, Castillo took off his headset, put on his beret, and went into the cabin. He found the Delta team arranging their gear and said, "You guys made up your mind which of you will stay here and which will go wherever the ever-changing winds of fate are going to take me?"

Sergeant First Class Seymour Krantz, who wasn't much over the height and weight minimums for the Army, smiled at him.

"I was with Major Miller in Afghanistan, sir, so if it's all right with you:"

"You'll go anywhere he's not, right?"

Krantz chuckled.

"Major Miller and I get along pretty good, sir."

"Okay. What I'm going to do is try to get a cop to sit on the airplane and then take Sergeant Sherman with us to help you get the radio set up."

They nodded and said, "Yes, sir," almost in unison.

Castillo opened the door and stepped down from the Lear.

"Where the hell did you get the airplane?" Miller asked by way of greeting.

"It belongs to my cousin Fernando," Castillo said. "Good morning, Sergeant Schneider."

"Good morning," she said, avoiding looking at him, and formally-and more than a little awkwardly-shaking his hand. "This is my brother, Lieutenant Frank Schneider, of the Highway Patrol."

Lieutenant Schneider was standing with his arms folded, looking the opposite of friendly. The other two Highway Patrolmen, both of them large and mean looking, stood behind him. One of them was the sergeant who'd driven him to the airport earlier.

And I wonder how long it took for you to tell Ol' Break My Legs that the Secret Service calls me Don Juan?

"Good morning," Castillo said. "Or, good middle of the night."

Lieutenant Schneider neither smiled nor offered his hand.

"You told me you was DEA," he accused.

"And you told me you were going to break both my legs," Castillo said. "One good lie deserves another, right?"

"What did he say to you?" Betty asked, aghast. "Frank, damn you!"

Castillo saw Sergeant Krantz, all five-feet-four and 130 pounds of him, struggling to get his huge hard-sided suitcase down from the Lear.

"Not to worry, Sergeant," Castillo said, pointing at Krantz, "I brought a highly skilled Special Forces assassin along to protect me."

The Highway sergeant chuckled.

At Ol' Break My Legs, not at me.

Miller recognized Sergeant Krantz.

"Let me give you a hand with that, Seymour," he said and went quickly to help him.

Castillo turned to meet Lieutenant Schneider's eyes.

She said, "Commissioner Kellogg told Highway that, until further notice, supporting Counterterrorism with whatever they want is the job. Chief Inspector Kramer ordered me to meet you and ask what you want."

"How much else did anyone else tell you?" Castillo asked.

"I know about the Liberty Bell, if that's what you mean."

"And who else was told?"

"The Highway commander and these officers," Schneider said.

"Keep it that way, Lieutenant, please," Castillo said.

Schneider nodded.

"So what do you need?"

"We've got a special radio. We'll need some place to set it up. And I need someone to sit on the airplane while we're here. And I'd like to talk to the undercover guy:"

"He's at the Homicide Bureau in the Roundhouse," Betty Schneider said. "But tell me about the radio, what does it need?"

"Someplace preferably out of the rain," Sergeant Krantz answered for him. "And someplace-a flat roof would be nice-not far from the controls, where the antenna will have a clear shot at the sky, the satellite."

"How big's the antenna?" Betty asked.

Krantz demonstrated with his hands and arms.

"There's a sort of porch on Building 110," she said, looking at Castillo. "You saw it. Would that do?"

He called Building 110 to his memory.

"Yeah, I think so."

Fernando and Sergeant Sherman walked up.

"This is Fernando Lopez," Castillo said. "And Sergeant Sherman, who's going to help Sergeant Krantz set up the radio. Fernando and I are cousins. This is Sergeant Betty Schneider, her brother Frankie:"

" Frank," Schneider quickly and firmly corrected him.

But I got another smile from the sergeant.

": Lieutenant Schneider of the Highway Patrol."

Schneider shook hands with Fernando. Betty smiled at him, looked a little confused, and said, "And that's Dick Miller."

"Dick and I go back a ways," Fernando said.

"You want to top the tanks off and get the weather and file a flight plan back to Bragg?"

"I'd rather go with you," Fernando said. "You have a problem with that?"

Castillo thought it over a moment before answering, "No. Why not?"

"Good," Fernando said.

"Okay, so what we have to do now is get the sergeants and the radio to the arsenal," Castillo said. "And me, Fernando, and Dick to the Roundhouse. You said the Homicide Bureau? What's the undercover officer doing there?"

"I'll take you and Major Miller and Mr. Lopez:" Lieutenant Schneider said.

"No," Betty said, flatly, cutting him off. "The sergeants and the radio go to the arsenal in Highway cars. I'll take Major Castillo, Major Miller, and Mr. Lopez to the Roundhouse."

"Thanks just the same, Sergeant Schneider, but I'm not really afraid of him," Castillo said.

"You better be, you sonofabitch!" Lieutenant Schneider said.

Betty was not amused. She was, instead, all business.

"What Lieutenant Schneider is going to do is stay here until we have a couple of uniforms sitting on your airplane," she said. "He can do that better than anybody else. And then he's going to catch up with us at Homicide. The other Highway car will take the sergeants and the radio to the arsenal. I'll call ahead and set it up for them. And that car will stay there to provide whatever transport we need. If you have any problems with that, Frank, call Chief Kramer. He's at Homicide."

Lieutenant Schneider looked for a moment as if he was going to say something, but, in the end, he turned wordlessly and walked toward his car.

Which almost certainly means that Chief Inspector Kramer has told him that Betty's running this operation and that he takes his orders from her.

Betty gestured for the others to get in the unmarked Crown Victoria.

Castillo got in beside her.

Their eyes met-momentarily-for the first time as she backed away from the hangar.

"Why the uniform?" Betty asked.

"It made sense at Fort Bragg," he said, and then, "You don't seem surprised."

"I picked up on that-that you're an Army officer, as well as a Secret Service agent, and the executive assistant to the secretary of homeland security-at Dick's house."

"Yeah."

"How do you know who you are at any given moment?"

"Sometimes it's difficult."

"And, I forgot, the head of catering for: what was it you said?: Rig Service?"

"Rig Service," he confirmed. "Sometimes I say I fly helicopters for them."

"And is there such a company?"

"Yeah, there is," Fernando said from the backseat. "And among other things I do for the Gringo whenever somebody calls up to check on him is say that he really is what he told somebody he is."

"'The Gringo'?" she repeated.

"Just a nickname," Fernando explained, and even though the car interior was darkened Betty knew he said it with a smile. "You're welcome to use it, too," he added.