The shooters pa-4

by W. E. B Griffin

  "I get the picture," Castillo interrupted.

  "Not quite, I don't think, friend Charley. And I think it's important that you do."

  "Go ahead."

  "I have been using you since you came into my life, sometimes successfully, sometimes at a price. You recall how we met, Herr Gossinger?"

  "On the Cobenzl in Vienna," Castillo said. "I thought you had stolen an airplane."

  "You came very close to dying that night, friend Charley. When I heard that you wanted to interview me, I thought I would send a message to the press that looking into my affairs was not acceptable and was indeed very dangerous."

  I believe him.

  But why is he bringing that up now?

  "But then Howard found out that you were really an American intelligence officer-Kennedy was very good at what he did; it's sad he turned out to be so weak and greedy-and you were using the name Karl Gossinger as a cover.

  "I found that interesting. So I decided to meet you in person. And when you suggested that-I love this American phrase-we could scratch each other's back, I went along, to see where that would go-"

  "Cutting to the chase," Castillo interrupted, "I would never have found that 727 without you. And I made good on my promise. I got the CIA and the FBI off your back."

  "So you did, proving yourself intelligent, capable, and a man of your word."

  "I'm going to blush if you keep this up."

  "You'll remember certainly that the Southern Cone, especially Argentina, never came up in Vienna. You found the 727 where I told you it would be, in Central America."

  "Yeah, I remember."

  "When that transaction between us was over, I thought it had gone extraordinarily well. You got what you wanted. And I got what I wanted, the CIA and the FBI to leave me alone. Which was very important to me, as I was already establishing myself here and-being pragmatic-I knew that if they were still looking for me, they would have inevitably found me."

  "And then I showed up here," Castillo said.

  Pevsner nodded.

  "Now that we both know who Howard Kennedy really was," Pevsner went on, "I don't think it is surprising that when you bumped into Howard in the elevator at the Four Seasons, his first reaction was to suggest to me that we had made a mistake in Vienna and it was now obviously the time to rectify that omission."

  You mean, whack me.

  "He suggested we could have our Russian friends do it, so there would be no connection with me. My initial reaction was to go along-I naturally thought that you had turned on me, and had come here to demand something of me.

  "But, again, I was curious, and told Howard that that would wait until we learned what you wanted from me. So I told Howard to put a bag over your head and bring you out to my house in Buena Vista in Pilar. The bag offended you. I understood. So I told Howard to bring you anyway. You could be dealt with at Buena Vista.

  "While I was waiting for you, I realized that I was really sorry I had misjudged you and regretted that I would have to deal with the problem. The strange truth seemed to be that I liked you more than I knew I should."

  Giving me an "Indian beauty mark" in the center of my forehead with a small-caliber, soft-nose pistol bullet…that's how you were going to "deal with the problem."

  "If you try to kiss me, Alek, I'll kick your scrotum over the chandelier."

  "You are…impossible!" Pevsner said.

  "But lovable."

  Pevsner shook his head in disbelief.

  "I often function on intuition. I knew when I looked into your eyes that you were telling me the truth about your reason for being in Argentina, that not only didn't you want anything from me but you had no idea I was in Argentina."

  "Oh, but I did. I wanted to borrow your helicopter."

  "That came later," Pevsner said, somewhat impatiently. "What happened at the time was that I decided we were friends. I have very few friends. Howard was a trusted employee-my mistake-but I never thought of him as my friend. I trust my friends completely. So I introduced you to my family. Anna liked you from the moment you met. So I decided to help you find-and possibly assist in getting back-the kidnapped wife of the American diplomat. Alfredo was then working for me; it wouldn't take much effort on my part.

  "That night, I asked Anna whether she thought I had made a mistake about you. She thought not. She said, 'He's very much like you.'"

  "I thought you said she liked me."

  "Why do you always have to mock me?"

  "Because it always pisses you off?"

  Pevsner, smiling despite himself, shook his head.

  "The next morning, you met Alfredo on your way to where Pavel Primakov's people had left Masterson's body."

  "Whose people?"

  "Colonel-I've heard he's actually a colonel general-Pavel Primakov is the FSB's senior man for South America. You did know they were responsible for the murder of Masterson, didn't you?"

  "I had no proof and no names. But there was no question in Billy Kocian's mind that the FSB was responsible, trying to cover Putin's involvement in the Iraqi oil-for-food cesspool."

  "The proof of that would seem to be what they tried to do with Kocian on the Szabadsag hid, wouldn't you say?"

  An attempt to kidnap-or, failing that, murder-Eric Kocian on the Liberty Bridge in Budapest had been thwarted by his bodyguard, Sandor Tor, and by Max, whose gleaming white teeth had caused severe muscular trauma to one of the triggermen's arms.

  "Point taken," Castillo said.

  "Where is the old man now?"

  "In Washington."

  "The FSB wants him dead-to get ahead of myself-about as much as they do you."

  "The last time I talked to Billy, he complained that he was being followed around by deaf men wearing large hearing aids who kept talking into their lapels."

  It took a moment for Pevsner to form the mental picture. Then he smiled. "Good men, I hope."

  "The best. Secret Service. Most of them are on, or were on, the President's protection detail."

  "Getting back where we were, friend Charley," Pevsner went on, "I asked Alfredo what he thought of you and his response was unusual. He said that he felt you were a lot more competent than your looks-and your behavior-suggested, and that, strangely, he felt you were one of the very few men he trusted instinctively.

  "You proved your competence almost immediately by finding Lorimer on his estancia, getting there with your men before Major Vincenzo and his men did-and they had been looking for him for some time-and then, of course, by effectively dealing with Vincenzo."

  "And losing one of my men in the process. And getting Alfredo wounded. Let's not forget that."

  Pevsner ignored the comment.

  "And then there are two more things."

  "Keep it up," Castillo said, raising his glass in a mock toast, then taking a large sip of the single-malt. "Flattery will get you anywhere."

  "What motivates you to always be a wise guy, friend Charley?" Pevsner asked, exasperated, but went on before Castillo could reply. "First, when Alfredo told you he thought I was trying to dispose of him, you took care of him and his family, knowing that was-if the situation was what you thought it was-in defiance of me.

  "I was annoyed-very disappointed-with you at the time by that, and worse, by the way you threatened me with turning the CIA loose on me again unless I loaned you my helicopter for your Uruguayan operation. I don't like being threatened."

  "Would you break out in tears if I told you that you have the reputation for being a ruthless sonofabitch?" Castillo said. "Helping Alfredo was a no-brainer for me, Alek. I knew that Alfredo hadn't betrayed you-"

  "How did you know that?" Pevsner interrupted.

  "We were talking a moment ago about there being men you instinctively trust. And you do have that ruthless sonofabitch reputation, Alek. Who should I have trusted? A man like Alfredo, or a man with a reputation like yours? Who, incidentally, had a known ruthless sonofabitch whispering in his ear?"

  "And that brings us to tha
t treasonous scum, doesn't it?"

  "Does it?"

  "A traitor who told my good friend Lieutenant Colonel Yevgeny Komogorov that I was going to meet with you in the Sheraton in Pilar, knowing full well-"

  "Well, that didn't happen, did it?"

  "If it were not for you, Janos and I would be dead."

  "True."

  "And I am grateful."

  "Which gratitude you demonstrated by having Howard Kennedy and Viktor Zhdankov beaten to death-slowly, apparently-in Punta del Este. After I told you I wanted Kennedy alive so that I could ask him a couple of dozen questions."

  "Howard knew too much about me for him to continue to live. And I could not permit it to get around that anyone who attempted to assassinate me would live very long."

  After a moment, Castillo asked: "Are we getting near the end of our walk down memory lane, Alek? I'd really like to know who wants me whacked."

  Pevsner ignored the question. He took a long, thoughtful sip of his drink.

  "And now you are here, friend Charley, presumably to ask me something, or for something. I wanted you to know where you and I stand before you do that."

  "Okay. Cutting to the chase, a DEA agent by the name of Timmons was kidnapped in Paraguay. So far as I know, he's still alive. As quietly as possible, I want him back. Alive."

  "'A DEA agent'?" Pevsner parroted, incredulously.

  "A DEA agent named Timmons," Castillo repeated.

  "How did you get involved in something like that?"

  "How would you guess?"

  "The President of the United States is involving himself personally in rescuing one drug enforcement agent?"

  Castillo didn't answer.

  "And how did you think I could help?"

  "I thought maybe you could get word through mutual acquaintances to whoever is holding him that if Agent Timmons were to miraculously reappear unharmed, either in Asuncion or somewhere in Argentina, I would not only be very happy but would be out of here within twenty-four hours. Otherwise, I'm going to have to come after him, which would make everybody unhappy, including me."

  "I think I'm missing something here," Pevsner said. "You don't really think you can load a half-dozen men on my helicopter and just take this man away from these people?"

  "Your helicopter is not in my contingency plans, Alek, but thank you just the same."

  "Do you even have an idea who has this man? Or where?"

  "I'm working on that."

  "Or who they are? I don't think they're liable to be Bolivian drug dealers."

  "Why would you say that?"

  "My information is that Major Vincenzo-who was in charge of dealing with the drug people for Colonel Primakov-has already been replaced by another officer from the Cuban Direccion General de Inteligencia, as have the ex-Stasi people who you also eliminated in Uruguay."

  "I'm not surprised."

  "You can't be seriously considering dealing with people like that with a handful of men, no more than you can load on my helicopter."

  "Weren't you listening when I said your helicopter is not in my contingency plans?"

  "Then what?"

  "Can you keep a secret, friend Alek?"

  "You dare ask me that?"

  "Yes or no?"

  "My God, Charley!"

  "If you'll give me Boy Scout's Honor"-he demonstrated what that was by holding up his right hand with the center three fingers extended; Pevsner looked at him in confusion-"that's Boy Scout's Honor, Alek. Very sacred. Meaning that you really swear what I'm about to tell you will not leave this room."

  Castillo waved his right hand with the fingers extended and gestured with his left for Pevsner to make the same gesture. Pevsner looked at him in disbelief, then offered a somewhat petulant philosophic observation.

  "Maybe you behave in this idiotic and childish manner to confuse people," he said, "to appear to be a fool so that no one will believe you're as competent as you are."

  "Yes or no, Alek?"

  Pevsner raised his right hand, extended three fingers, and waved it angrily in Castillo's face.

  "Thank you," Castillo said, solemnly. "Alek, you're a betting man. Tell me, who do you think would come out on top between Senor Whateverhisname is-Vincenzo's replacement-and his stalwart men and two Delta Force A-Teams dropping in on them with four helicopters armed with 4,000-round-per-minute machine guns?"

  Pevsner looked at him for a long moment.

  "You're serious," Pevsner said. It was a statement, not a question.

  "And other interesting lethal devices," Castillo continued. "Said force backed up by a hundred or so gendarmes argentinos who want not only to get back two of their number also kidnapped by these people, but also to seek righteous vengeance for two of their number who were murdered."

  Pevsner looked at him intently.

  Castillo nodded knowingly and went on: "And their orders will be-I know, because their commanding officer told me, and I believe him-to leave as many bodies scattered over the terrain as possible and then to blow everything up."

  Pevsner looked at him curiously but didn't say anything.

  Castillo answered the unspoken question.

  "He wants to send the message that kidnapping or murdering members of the gendarmeria is unacceptable behavior and is punished accordingly."

  "Your president is going to do all this over one drug enforcement agent?"

  "A lot of people, Alek, and I unequivocally count myself among them," Castillo said evenly, "believe in the work of these drug enforcement agents and do not consider them expendable."

  "You're a soldier, friend Charley. You know men die in wars."

  "We don't shoot our own men in the back. Or write them off when they're captured."

  "My God, there's no way something like this could happen without it getting out."

  "And that is why I was hoping you would pass the message through your mutual acquaintances to these bastards that I would much prefer that Timmons miraculously reappear unharmed instead of me having to come after him."

  "That is wishful thinking. I am surprised you even suggested it."

  "All they can say is 'no.' Give it a shot, please."

  "I will not be talking to mutual acquaintances about this man," Pevsner said. "It would not only be a waste of my breath, but-and I'm surprised you didn't think of this, too-it would warn them that action is contemplated."

  Castillo shrugged, hoping it suggested Pevsner's refusal didn't matter.

  He instead was thinking, Now what the hell do I do?

  Pevsner took a moment to drain his glass and think.

  "You couldn't possibly get four helicopters and all the men you say you have into Argentina without at least the tacit approval of the Argentine government," Pevsner went on.

  "The Argentine government knows nothing about this," Castillo said, "and if I can work it, never will. And, yes, I can. I already have most of the shooters in country; the rest will be here in a day or two; and so will the helicopters. I'm going to get Agent Timmons back. I hope I can do it without the Evil Leprechaun carrying out the bloodbath he wants, but if that happens…"

  "'The Evil Leprechaun'?"

  "Reminding you that you're still bound by the Boy Scout's oath of secrecy, his name is Liam Duffy. He's a comandante in the Gendarmeria Nacional. You know him?"

  Pevsner shook his head.

  "I think I'll have another drink, friend Charley. You?"

  Castillo emptied his glass and held it out. "Please."

  As Pevsner made the drinks, Castillo heard him say, as if he was thinking aloud, "I almost wish I had given you a beauty mark in Vienna."

  "Oh, Alek, you don't mean that! You love me!"

  A moment later, Pevsner turned and handed Castillo the drink.

  "Unfortunately, I do," he said, sincerely. "But I never dreamed how expensive that would be."

  "There's no reason you have to be involved in this," Castillo said, seriously.

  Pevsner snorted.

  "You h
ad better pray your Evil Leprechaun does what he says he wants to do," he said.

  "Meaning what?"

  "Meaning that's the only way your noble rescue mission can succeed without bringing yourself down-and me down with you."

  "You're going to explain that, right?"

  Pevsner raised his glass toward Castillo's and touched rims.

  "Oh, God, friend Charley. You do cause me problems."

  "That's what friends are for, right?"

  Pevsner shook his head and exhaled audibly.

  "You're sure that the Argentine government is not involved? Either with you? Or that they're not winking at this man Duffy?"

  "The Argentine government has no idea what I plan. And I don't think they know what Duffy plans," Castillo said.

  "Why do you say that?"

  "When I got here, he had men waiting for me. He knew I was coming, which means he has someone in the U.S. embassy in Asuncion."

  "Someone in your embassy knew you were coming?"

  "That's another whole story."

  "I should know it, if I'm to help," Pevsner said.

  That's really none of his business.

  But why not tell him?

  Maybe he can fill in the blanks.

  "As I understand it, Alek, the drugs are moved to the United States with fresh meat shipped from Ezeiza by air to Jamaica-maybe on your airplanes, although I don't expect you to fess up about that."

  "My airplanes make a number of such flights, sometimes every other day," Pevsner said, somewhat indignantly. "But the pilots will not take off until they have in their hand documents from Argentine customs stating that the sealed and locked containers they are carrying have passed customs inspection. There may well be drugs in those containers, but I don't know about it, and neither does anyone who works for me. And my people know what happens to people who do what I have told them not to do."

  "Okay. I believe you"-Strangely enough, I do, especially the part about what happens to people who do what you've told them not to-"but in Jamaica, they are loaded aboard cruise ships and smuggled into the United States from the cruise ships. The CIA station chief in the Asuncion embassy, and maybe the head man from the DEA, has been setting up an operation to seize the cruise ships under international law, which permits the seizure of ships whose owners collude in the shipment of drugs-"