Chapter 55

55
 PENTHOUSE, WATERGATE HOTEL, WASHINGTON, D.C.

The penthouse of the Watergate was simply another phenomenon to the boys from the island. The Brazilian Navy ship was a phenomenon. Government House in Rio was a phenomenon. The Resurrection was certainly a phenomenon. The corporate jet was a phenomenon. This plush penthouse was more Disneyland than home. Jesus and Juan found themselves standing in the expansive living room looking at each other in silence. The place seemed to make noises by itself.

A gentle tap at the door broke the silence. After exchanging glances with Jesus, Juan walked through the living room and opened it. A Secret Service agent presented himself. "I'm Agent St. George. I'm sorry to bother you, but no one answered the phone. Is everything alright up here, Sir?"

"Oh, that's what that was." said Jesus, caught in a moment of revelation. "We're very sorry to have inconvenienced you. It didn't occur to us what was happening. We will always answer from now on."

Agent St. George, clearly uncomfortable, went on. "I am also sorry to tell You that we have apparently lost Your luggage. We have checked the limousine that brought You here from the airport, and our agents have boarded the plane, but there seems to be no luggage anywhere."

"That is quite alright, Agent St. George. Whatever luggage is, I'm certain that we don't have any. We don't have anything." Jesus reassured the man with innocent cheerfulness.

Juan spoke up at this point, "But we have cash! Let's go buy something to eat! Maybe Agent St. George will go with us." St. George's face turned white as Jesus quickly translated. The Secret Service man was having trouble with the Portuguese to English conversion occurring in his mind.

"Actually, we will need a little more advance warning for excursions out of the hotel. I can assure You that room service will be able to provide You with anything You may require. Here, allow me to show You how that works." St. George stepped over the telephone. "Anytime You pick up the receiver, a duty agent will answer. We are right downstairs. I might add that we have a twenty-four hour Portuguese translator standing by, if necessary."

"The Secret Service has food for us down there?" Jesus asked.

St. George let slip a faint smile. "No Sir. The duty agent will connect You or simply handle any request You might have. This is necessary because You are presently receiving over two thousand telephone calls per hour in Your switchboard downstairs. If all those calls came here in Your quarters, You could starve to death waiting for a chance to order a sandwich."

"Who is calling us?" asked Jesus innocently.

"Oh, all sorts of people from around the world. I would very much prefer to explain room service, perhaps get You something to eat, and leave the rest of this for Your meeting with General Tower in the morning." The agent lifted the receiver. "This is St. George with the Party. We want to order some food. No. No Portuguese. This is Agent St. George. I don't need a translator, I need the room service kitchen."

Turning back to Jesus and Juan, Agent St. George apologized. "We still need to iron out some details, but I can assure You that all this will be working perfectly by tomorrow. Now, what shall we order for Your dinner?"

Jesus Robeles and Juan were paralyzed by this simple question. On the island, meals had always been what was available. On the Resurrection, at Government House, meals had always just been served. Now the meal had to be selected. It was a new concept. After an unsettling pause, Jesus looked at Juan, then said, "We'll just have what everyone else had. I'm sure that will be fine."

St. George at first was troubled, then a wave of realization swept across his face. He wanted out of this apartment as soon as possible. This was State Department territory. "I'll bet both of You would like a nice big cheeseburger and fries. Shall I just order that? If it turns out You want something else, You can just pick up the phone."

"That sounds very good, Agent St. George. I'm sure we will both enjoy that very much, whatever it is. Do you think that room service has Pepsi?" Jesus asked.

Agent St. George ordered the food, and the Pepsis. Thoughtfully, he then turned on the television for them with the remote and excused himself.

A Secret Service cook grilled two giant burgers with Secret Service meat and put them on two Secret Service buns. No food presented to the two in the penthouse was to come from vulnerable sources. Everything needed for any kind of meal was locked in a secure refrigerator and freezer under constant watch in a separate makeshift kitchen several floors below them.

The cheeseburgers were, well, divine. They were a fitting greeting to the Land of the Free.