The long flight to Buenos Aires was uneventful. Sean avoided Forsythe, who sat several rows in front of him, and Julie said nothing about the case during the flight. Instead, she read a novel. Sean dozed, occasionally peeking at the on-board movie.
Upon arriving in Buenos Aires they were met by Mrs. Gutierrez.
"Julie, Sean, so glad to have you here!" She surprised Julie and Sean by hugging each of them. Gutierrez was not the stern director; today she was Anna, warm, friendly. However, she changed back to Gutierrez the FBI assistant director as soon as they got into the black sedan with the tinted windows. Sam, a stone-faced large black man, who kept his semiautomatic weapon at his side at all times, was sitting next to the driver.
"Sam is my bodyguard. We felt this was needed. There is additional support at the conference. While in Buenos Aires, I urge you to treat me as an old friend while in public, and please speak Spanish. Refrain from public conversation regarding the case and our mission. The two of you have been checked into a large suite. You'll be able to monitor the street and the conference. The equipment you'll need is in this suitcase. Because of the possibility of sabotage of this conference we're working with the local law enforcement agency. The contact is Ricardo Ortega, whom you'll meet later. He'll coordinate surveillance with you. There are a number of undercover Argentine agents working in the hotel."
Sean leaned forward and whispered to Gutierrez: "My Spanish is good Anna, but my accent is heavy."
"That has never been a problem in my career Sean," Gutierrez said, before continuing with instructions. "This is a global conference and you'll be representing an international delegation. You're sharing a special suite that will give you an excellent view of the street entrance. As far as the front desk is concerned, remember you're married to Ms. Del Rio and you're registered as Mr. and Mrs. Trillian. The office has booked you for a number of sessions during the conference. Here's the list."
Upon arriving at the hotel, the group separated. Sean and Julie carried their bags into the lobby.
"OK Lassie, Español from now on, but you better not even snicker once."
Julie smiled, but as soon as Sean looked at her, she tried to look serious.
Sean approached the desk clerk and said quietly, in his Irish brogue-tinged Spanish, "We are Mr. and Mrs. Trillian and we're attending the conference."
The clerk took down the information, looked up their reservation and handed them the electronic keycards. A bellboy took their bags and walked with them to their suite.
