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"And the bad news, Ace?" Delchamps asked.
"They have been wrapped in the protective arms of the Secret Service."
McGuire's smile vanished. He liked Britton. He had recruited him for the Secret Service.
"Why?" he asked softly.
"Isaacson told me that that's standard procedure when a special agent is attacked. As is taking a member of the Protection Service off the detail and assigning him administrative duties."
"Somebody attacked Jack?" Davidson asked.
"And Sandra," Castillo confirmed. "Sixteen bullet holes in his new Mazda convertible. And that many more in the picture window of his house."
"Oh, my God! How terrible!" Dona Alicia said.
"The African-American Lunatics?" David W. Yung asked.
Dona Alicia looked at him in confusion.
"Who else?" Castillo said.
"Where are they sending him?" McGuire said. Before Castillo could reply, he added, surprised, "They want to keep him here?"
"They wanted to send them to Saint Louis, or someplace like that."
"And?" McGuire pursued.
"When they told him that, Jack said something very, very rude to the supervisor who told him, and then said he was going back to Philadelphia. That's when he was turned over to Joel." He paused. "And then Joel turned him over to me."
McGuire grunted. "Philadelphia's not an option," he said. "And I don't know about here. There's a train from Union Station to Philadelphia about every hour."
"Nuestra Pequena Casa," Delchamps suggested. "Better yet, Shangri-La."
McGuire considered that a moment, then nodded. "That'd do it."
Dona Alicia's face showed that she didn't understand any of what had been said.
"Ace, you think your lady friend would go along with one more legal attache in Buenos Aires or Montevideo?" Delchamps asked.
"Probably. But asking her on Christmas Day?"
"Good point," Delchamps said.
"Let's get them down there and worry about that later," McGuire said. "Worst case, they make us bring them back."
"Why don't we wait and see what kind of a frame of mind Jack's in before we do anything?" Davidson asked.
"If I could repeat in mixed company what he told the Secret Service supervisor, Jack, that would give you a good idea," Castillo said. "But for the moment, would someone please pass me the cranberry sauce?"
Special Agent and Mrs. Britton arrived fifteen minutes later. They were accompanied by four Secret Service agents. All of the men at the table stood when they came into the dining room.
"If you have any clout with the guards, Tom," Sandra Britton said, "I'd really like to have a little something to eat before I'm strip-searched and put in my cell."
"Sandra!" McGuire said uncomfortably.
She went on, unrepentant: "The only thing the prisoners have had to eat today is an Egg McMuffin as we began our journey and, for Christmas dinner, a hamburger in a Wendy's outside Baltimore."
She directed her attention to Castillo.
