"Grand Cozumel Beach and Golf Resort," Kenyon said.
"Go on," Castillo said.
"Well, I saw Cassidy at the beach and at the bar. I know he saw me, but there was no sign of recognition so I left it there. That was fine with me."
"Did you happen to notice anyone with Cassidy?"
"Yeah. He was with a guy, about his age. Talked funny."
"A Russian accent, maybe?" Castillo asked.
"Could be, Charley."
"The interview will be suspended," Castillo said, "for a brief period while Castillo consults a file."
Doherty looked at him with mixed curiosity and annoyance.
Castillo went quickly to the net pouch behind the pilot's chair and retrieved his laptop. He turned it on, hurriedly searched through it, and then carried it to Kenyon and held it in front of him.
"Mr. Kenyon, I show you a computer image of a white male and ask you if this is the man you saw with Cassidy in Cozumel," Castillo said.
Kenyon shook his head. "No. Never saw that guy before."
Castillo held the computer up for Doherty to see it.
"Colonel Castillo has shown me the same computer image just now shown to Mr. Kenyon, that of a white male known to me from other photographs," Doherty said. "This man is not known to Mr. Kenyon. May I go on, Colonel?"
"Please," Castillo said.
"Hold it," Delchamps said, then went on: "Edgar Delchamps, CIA. The interview will be suspended until I can get a photograph to show Mr. Kenyon."
Delchamps dug into his briefcase, took a stack of five-by-seven photographs from it, hurriedly searched through them, selected two, and held them out in front of Kenyon.
"Look familiar?" he asked.
"That's the guy," Kenyon said.
"And this one?"
"Same guy."
"You're sure?"
"I'm sure. Cassidy was talking to him at the bar just before he all of a sudden recognized me, came over, and told me he needed a favor."
"Hold it a second," Doherty said. "Mr. Delchamps has shown two clear five-by-seven photographs, one color, one black-and-white, of a white male approximately forty-five years of age, approximately five feet eight, approximately one hundred ninety pounds, to Mr. Kenyon, who positively stated the photos were of the same man, and that this man was with Cassidy in the hotel. The man is apparently well known to Mr. Delchamps but not to me or Colonel Castillo."
Delchamps turned his back to Kenyon and mouthed the name Sunev.
Doherty looked momentarily confused until he made the connection. Then he smiled. Then he lost the smile.
"What do you think of your good pal now, Castillo?" he asked, almost triumphantly.
"I never said he was a good pal. I just told you I wasn't going to report on him to you," Castillo said. Then he looked at Delchamps and announced: "Bingo!"
"Bingo indeed, Ace," Delchamps said.
Doherty turned back to Kenyon.
"You say Cassidy came and spoke to you at the bar of the hotel?"
"That's right."
"Did the man in the photograph Mr. Delchamps just showed you come with him?"
"No, sir."
"You said he said he needed a favor? What kind of a favor?"
"He said he was having a little cash-flow problem and that he needed to make good on a promise he'd made to a mosque in Philadelphia."
"And he wanted you to wire them two million, more or less, from your accounts in the Caledonian Bank and Trust Limited?" Delchamps asked.
"He said it would just be temporary," Kenyon said. "I knew he was lying. But what could I do?"
"Indeed. What could you do? If you didn't oblige him, he'd tell the IRS what a bad boy you'd been? Right?"
Kenyon shrugged and nodded.
"And besides, you had forty-six million of oil-for-food money in the Caledonian Bank and Trust Limited. If the IRS got involved, you'd be liable to lose that, too. Right?"
"What do you want me to say?"
"This interview of Philip J. Kenyon III is terminated, subject to recall, at seven-fifteen p.m. central standard time, 12 August 2005. All parties present at the commencement were present throughout the interview," Doherty said, then reached over and reclaimed his tape recorder from Kenyon's knees.
"Go to the toilet, Tubby," Castillo ordered. "Close the door and sit on it."
"My clothes?"
Castillo pointed to the toilet.
Kenyon got awkwardly to his feet and walked naked down the aisle.
"What do we do with him?" Castillo asked when the toilet door had been closed.
"You're asking me, Colonel?" Doherty asked.
"Why not? You're in the criminal business, I'm in the terrorist business, and whatever else that miserable shit is I don't think he's a terrorist."
"He's a coconspirator," Doherty said. "And an accessory before and after the fact."
"If you say so. So what do you want to do with him?"
"Anybody interested in what I think?" Delchamps asked.
"Not that I know of," Castillo said, seriously.
"Fuck you, Ace," Delchamps said, good-naturedly. "Well, now that you've asked for my opinion: How about Jack coming up with some really good interrogators and finding out what else Tubby knows, with these two"-he nodded toward the Secret Service agents-"suitably briefed, sitting in on it to ask questions of their own."
"Transcripts of the interrogation, copies of everything, to OOA," Castillo said. "And they don't go near a United States Attorney until we decide they should."
"I don't like that last," Doherty said.
"I didn't think you would," Castillo said. "But what does that mean?"
"We do everything that Edgar said," Doherty said. "What's the risk of him getting on the phone and asking somebody for help?"
"I think we should tell him that his phones are going to be tapped and that he's going to have a Secret Service buddy with him day and night until we're through with him and that, if he's a bad boy, he goes straight to the Florence ADMAX and does not pass Go," Castillo said.
He looked at Doherty.
"Okay," Doherty said. "And now what? I mean, right now?"
"We go back to Midland, and tonight we have dinner with my grandmother. And in the morning, we go to Buenos Aires."
Doherty nodded.
Castillo walked forward to the cockpit.
"How did it go?" Jake Torine asked.
"Better than I dared hope. But we have to go to Buenos Aires first thing in the morning."
"I figured as much. Not a problem."
"How long is it going to take us to get back to Midland?"
Torine pointed at the ground.
"As long as it takes this one-legged junior birdman to get us down from thirty thousand feet," Torine said. "We've been flying a nice big circle over North Texas." He looked at Miller. "Junior Birdman, commence a gentle descent at this time."
"Yes, sir, Colonel, sir. My pleasure, sir," Miller said and reached for the trim control.
XVII
[ONE] Aeropuerto Internacional Jorge Newbery Buenos Aires, Argentina 1840 13 August 2005 It was a clear winter night in Argentina and as they made their approach they could see the sea of lights that was Buenos Aires. They could even pick out the bright yellow snake of lights of the superhighway running from the city to Pilar.
They had left Double-Bar-C ranch at six, after an enormous breakfast Dona Alicia had insisted on getting up to prepare for them.
Dick Miller's disappointment at not being able to go with them-Castillo wanted him both to brief Ambassador Montvale on the "interview" of Philip J. Kenyon III and to be available at the Nebraska Avenue Complex to deal with anything that might come up-was more than a little tempered when Colonel Jake Torine got on the horn and arranged for another F-15D "training flight" to pick him up in Midland and carry him to Andrews Air Force Base outside Washington.
Castillo, concerned about Yung's wounded hand, had thought of trying to find some way to tactfully leave him behind in
the States without killing his newfound enthusiasm for the OOA but in the end had decided that he would be needed in South America, both to lend his expertise to putting the pieces together at the safe house in the Mayerling Country Club and to deal with Chief Inspector Ordonez in Uruguay if that became necessary.
Dinner at the Double-Bar-C had turned out to be very pleasant-even Jack Doherty seemed to be having a good time-although Fernando Lopez had nearly choked on his mouthful of wine when Dona Alicia had suddenly announced, "Oh, damn old age! Why didn't I think of this earlier? You remember Philip Kenyon, don't you, Carlos? You were in the Boy Scouts together. We ran into him at the Petroleum Club yesterday and, if I hadn't been asleep at the switch, we could have had him and his family here tonight. I know he would have loved to see you."
As everyone had loaded into one of the Secret Service Yukons, Dona Alicia had handed Castillo an aluminum-foil-wrapped package of barbecued beef ribs.
"For Ricardo, Carlos," she said, making reference to Special Agent Ricardo Solez of the Drug Enforcement Administration. "Give him my love, and tell him he can warm them on low in a microwave, but they would be better if he could find a grill of some kind."
"I'm sure we can find a grill for him, Abuela," Castillo had said.
On the way to the airport, they passed a Sam's Club. Probably because of the five-pound package of ribs in his lap, food was on Castillo's mind.
"Anyone got a Sam's card?" he asked.
Inspector Doherty confessed that He did.
"Go back to that Sam's Club, please," Castillo said. "It's already open."
A half hour later, Castillo came out of the Sam's Club carrying two ten-pound sacks of pancake flour and a gallon jug of Vermont maple syrup, followed by Colonel Torine, who carried plastic packages of shorts and T-shirts, a two and-half-pound bag of Hershey's assorted miniature chocolate bars, and a lined denim jacket.
They had cleared customs and were off the ground at one minute past eight. Their first stop had been Quito, Ecuador, which was almost exactly midway between Midland and Buenos Aires. They landed there at 1335.
During a very pleasant grilled-chicken luncheon, and, looking very pleased with himself, Special Agent Yung of the FBI turned to Inspector Doherty of the FBI and said, "Before we get to Buenos Aires, Inspector, you'd better give me your pistol."
"Why in the world would I want to do that?"
"Because otherwise the Argentine customs will take it away from you."
"Doesn't that apply to you, too?"
"I have a diplomatic passport," Yung said, smugly. "You don't."
"Two-Gun Yung's got you, Jack," Edgar Delchamps said.
"And what about you?" Doherty challenged.
"I've already given him mine," Delchamps said. "If he's nice enough to sneak yours into Argentina, I guess we'll have to start calling him Three-Gun Yung."
They were back in the air at 1510. Five hours and thirty-two minutes later, Castillo-trying very hard to make a perfect landing-touched down much too long and some what hard on the runway at Jose Newbery.
"Because of the two-hour time difference," Jake Torine told Castillo, "I will put it in the log that we landed at 1845 local time. Because I am a really fine fellow who would never hurt a junior officer's delicate sensibilities, I will with-hold critical comment on that absolutely awful landing."
They were met, as they had been the last time, by Paul Sieno and Ricardo Solez, who had the same unmarked Mercedes-Benz Traffik van and who again pretended to be Argentines sent to transfer American tourists to an unnamed estancia.
Once they were through the customs and immigration formalities and off the airfield, it was different. Sieno was obviously a great admirer of Edgar Delchamps and delighted to see him. [TWO] Nuestra Pequena Casa Mayerling Country Club Pilar, Buenos Aires Province, Argentina 1925 13 August 2005 As soon as he walked into the house, Delchamps got an equally warm reception from Susanna Sieno and an only slightly less enthusiastic one from Alex Darby.
Castillo was not spared a welcome home. Max was so pleased to see him that he put his front paws on Castillo's chest, knocked him down, and then to show there were no hard feelings enthusiastically licked his face.
Castillo was still trying to regain his feet when Eric Kocian came down the stairs, paused halfway, and announced: "I see my jailer has arrived."
"Forgive me for trying to keep you alive, Uncle Billy," Castillo said.
"Any man who shamelessly steals the affection of another man's dog is beneath contempt," Kocian said.
"Eric Kocian, Jack Doherty," Castillo said. "I'm sure the two of you will become great buddies."
"This is the schoolteacher with the blackboards?" Kocian said. "I recognize the voice."
"And these two, Inspector Doherty," Castillo continued, "are in-or were in-your line of work. Sandor Tor, formerly inspector of the Budapest police, and Colonel Alfredo Munz, former chief of Argentina's SIDE, which is sort of the FBI and the CIA combined."
"I know what it is," Doherty said as they shook hands.
"Carlos, I don't suppose you saw my family?" Munz said.
"Oh, yes," Castillo said as he went into his briefcase for his laptop computer. "And I have to tell you they will probably want to stay in the States."
He turned on the computer, found what he was looking for, and held it out to Munz.
"There's a bunch of pictures," he said. "Just push this key with the arrow for the next one."
Munz looked at the first picture, then showed it to Tor. It was of his daughters, decked out in chef's whites, including enormous billowing hats, broiling steaks on a grill as Senora Munz and Dona Alicia, their arms around one another like sisters, smilingly watched.
"That's my abuela, Alfredo," Castillo said.
Munz went through the twenty-odd pictures one by one, then handed the computer back to Castillo.
"I think I want to kiss you, Carlos," Munz said, "and then kill Pevsner very slowly."
"Don't do either, please," Castillo said. "It would give Inspector Doherty the wrong idea and Pevsner may not be-probably isn't-the villain."
Yung took Doherty's and Delchamps's pistols from his briefcase and gave them back, which caused Darby to suggest that carrying them might become a problem but one that could probably be dealt with by making an effort to travel in an embassy car, the diplomatic plates of which would guarantee immunity from spot roadside searches by the Policia Federal.
Castillo-trailed by Max-took two bottles of beer from the refrigerator and went to the quincho; Susanna Sieno had told him Corporal Lester Bradley, USMC, was out there on radio duty.
As Castillo entered the quincho, Bradley leaped to his feet, popped to attention, and said, "Good evening, Colonel. I have the duty, sir."
"Stand at ease," Castillo replied, trying to stifle a strong urge to smile. It didn't work. He smiled, then handed Bradley a bottle of beer. "Have a beer, Les."
When he saw that Bradley was more than a little discomfited, Castillo went on: "You may wish to write this down, Corporal. When the senior officer in the area hands you a beer and orders you to consume same, you are then immunized against prosecution under the Uniform Code of Military Justice, 1948, for drinking on duty."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
"What do we hear from the States, Les?" Castillo asked.
"About an hour ago, sir, there was a message from Major Miller to be delivered to you on your arrival. I passed it to Sergeant Major Davidson, sir."
"Well, now that I'm here and Davidson isn't, do you think you could give it to me?"
"Yes, sir. Quote, the canary is really singing, end quote. Major Miller said you would understand what it meant, sir," Bradley said.
"Yeah, I do," Castillo said. "Les, go get-discreetly-Mr. Sieno, Mr. Darby, Sergeant Major Davidson, Sergeant Kensington, and Mr. Solez. I'll watch the radio."
"Yes, sir," Bradley said and headed for the door. Then he stopped and carefully set his beer bottle on the floor. "I think it would be best if I left t
his here, sir. Sergeant Major Davidson might not understand that I have your permission to drink on duty."
"Good thinking, Corporal," Lieutenant Colonel Castillo said. When they had all assembled, Castillo asked if anyone had seen anything that suggested an attack on the house or the waylaying of a car going to or from it.
"Nothing, Colonel," Davidson replied. "And we've looked. The only thing remotely suspicious was the driver of a laundry truck-a van, white, with 'ECO' on the panels-who seemed pretty interested in the house. The second time he drove by, Bradley and I followed him."
"The both of you?"
"Lester chased him around the country club on a bicycle and I went just outside the gate and followed him in a Beamer. Lester said all he did inside here was deliver and pick up laundry and dry cleaning. And then I followed him when he came out. He went to the ECO place-near the Sheraton Hotel-and unloaded dirty clothes. And that's it."
He looked around at the others and there was general agreement.
"Well, I've got a gut feeling that they're going to try to whack Billy Kocian," Castillo said. "And the chances of that happening will multiply exponentially after I go see a man I have to go see."
They looked at him for clarification but he offered none.
"I'll need a weapon, Susanna," he said. "Is that Micro Uzi I borrowed in Budapest still here?"
She nodded.
Davidson asked, "Where we going, Charley?"
"We're not going anywhere. I'm going to see a guy-Delchamps and I are."
Susanna Sieno said, "Colonel, you heard what Alex said. If you're going to take that Micro Uzi, you better take one of the embassy cars with CD plates. And somebody to drive it."
"I happen to be a very good Beamer driver, in case anyone cares," Sergeant Major Davidson said.
Castillo's eyebrow went up.
"For everyone's edification," he said, "it's Bimmer."
Davidson looked at him in a rare moment of confusion. "It's what?"
Castillo shrugged and said, "Not that it really matters, but a BMW motorcycle-the thingee with two wheels?-that's called a Beamer, or Beemer with two es. The four-wheel BMW is a Bimmer. Like I said, not that it matters, but that's that."
Davenport nodded and, without any conviction, replied, "Right. Tomato, tow-maw-toe. Got it."
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