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“Why don’t you send the boy wonder here back to Nevada with me in the Lear?” Casey said. “Let him do some preliminary reconnoitering?”
“You mean now?” McNab asked.
“I think I’d like another beer and maybe something to eat first.”
“Pack, Charley,” General McNab ordered.
Castillo started to stand.
“Shortly,” Casey said, motioning with his beer for Charley to stay seated. He looked at McNab. “If you don’t mind, General. It’s been too long since I last broke bread with my brothers.”
SPRING 2005
[TWO]
303 Concord Circle Bala Cynwyd, Pennsylvania 1655 9 June 2005
Charley Castillo’s cellular phone tinkled as Betty Schneider turned the car into the drive of a brick colonial house sitting behind half an acre of immaculately manicured lawn.
“Hello?”
There was no reply, but there was the fai
nt hiss of a connection suggesting there was someone on the line.
“Hello?”
There was still no reply.
After a moment, the hiss stopped. Castillo pushed the CALL END key.
Castillo looked out the window and saw they were close to the three-car garage. There was an apartment over the garage; he had stayed in it when, in his last year at West Point, the Army-Navy game had been played in Philadelphia.
He also saw Major General H. Richard Miller, Sr., USA, Retired, who was walking purposefully across the lawn toward a flagpole. When he reached it, he stopped and looked at the Ford Crown Victoria.
Betty stopped the car and they all got out.
“I could use a little help here,” General Miller called. It was clearly an order.
Major H. Richard Miller, Jr., trotted toward his father and the flagpole. Betty looked at Charley and saw that he was sort of standing at attention. When Major Miller reached the flagpole, he, too, came to attention. General Miller began to slowly lower the national colors. Major Miller put his hand over his heart. When Betty looked at Castillo, she saw he had his hand over his heart and put her hand on her breast.
Major Miller caught the end of the flag as it approached the lawn and he and his father then folded it in the prescribed manner, ending up with a tightly folded triangle, which he then tucked under his arm.
“Okay,” Castillo said and started to walk toward the Millers.
“Yes, sir,” Betty said and followed him.
“Good afternoon, sir,” Castillo said.
“The colors have been lowered; it’s evening,” General Miller corrected him. He looked at Betty Schneider.
“General, this is Sergeant Betty Schneider of the Philadelphia Police Department,” Castillo said.
“How do you do, Sergeant? Welcome to our home.”
“Thank you, sir,” Betty replied.
A trim, gray-haired, light brown-skinned woman ran across the lawn to them, cried “Charley!,” grabbed both of Castillo’s arms, rose on her toes, kissed him, and said, “Thank you, Charley! God bless you!,” and then hugged him tightly.
