The ride on the freeway down toward and then through San Clemente was made in silence. I said nothing and neither of the women did either. I refused to look over at the Staff Sergeant as I felt that if I made the slightest wrong move the whole scene of which I had been forced to become a part might shatter like a very thin piece of glass.

Once the limo reached the Chistianitos overpass the Staff Sergeant deftly steered the vehicle toward Presidio, which once he turned south it would lead directly into the eastern corner of the compound where the Marine guard gate was located.

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