“I understand your concerns, Colonel,” Delchamps went on. “But what I have been thinking is that Detective Mullroney might be useful when we go to Paraguay.”
“How?” Castillo asked, his tone on the edge of sarcasm.
“In dealing with both the people in the embassy and the local police. With regard to the former, whether you go there as Colonel Castillo or as Mr. Castillo, you are still going to be the important visitor from Washington, and they are not going to tell you anything that might come around, in that marvelous phrase, to bite them on the ass. As far as the local police are concerned—your command of the language notwithstanding—you are going to be a visiting gringo, and they are not going to tell you anything.”
Delchamps paused, then continued, “Now, Detective Mullroney—”
“Actually, I’m a sergeant,” Mullroney interrupted.
Delchamps flashed Mullroney a look making it clear that he didn’t like being interrupted, then went on, “Sergeant Mullroney is a bona fide police officer, low enough in rank so as not to frighten away the people in the embassy but yet to be, so to speak, one of them. I’m suggesting that he might be told—or would see—things they would not tell or show you.”
I am now pretending to carefully consider what Delchamps just said.
The funny thing is it makes sense, even if he came up with it just to help Lorimer and me keep Mullroney on a tight leash.
“There may be something to what you say, Delchamps,” Castillo said after what he considered to be a suitable pause, “but do you really believe that it outweighs the risk of Mullroney doing something stupid that would blow the operation?”
“Well, you’d have to keep him on a short leash, of course,” Delchamps said, “but, yes, Colonel, I do. You might be surprised how valuable he might be.”
“Sir, I’ll be sitting on him,” Lorimer said.
“But you have this odd notion of fair play, Lieutenant,” Castillo said.
Castillo put what he hoped was a thoughtful look on his face and kept it there for thirty seconds, which seemed much longer.
“And,” Castillo then went on, “to be of any use to us in the manner you suggest, he would have to know what’s going on—starting with being present at the briefing I am about to deliver—and I’m uncomfortable with that.”
“Sir, I’ll be sitting on him,” Lorimer said again.
“You’ve mentioned that,” Castillo snapped.
“Sorry, sir,” Lorimer said, and looked at Mullroney with a look that said, Well, I tried.
“All right,” Castillo said. “I’ll go this far. You will not return to the United States with Colonel Torine tomorrow. I will give this matter further thought, and let you know what I finally decide.”
“Thank you,” Mullroney said softly.
“Take Sergeant Mullroney out to the quincho and tell the others I’ll be there shortly. I need a word with these gentlemen.”
“Yes, sir,” Lorimer said.
He gestured for Mullroney to get up and then followed him out of the room.
When the door had closed, Castillo mimed applauding. The others chuckled.
“May I ask a question, Karl?” Munz said.
“Sure.”
“You don’t trust him, do you?”
“He strikes me as the kind of not-too-bright guy who, meaning well, is likely to rush off in the wrong direction. And we can’t afford that.”
“Can I ask why you trust me?”
“Aside from all that money we’re paying you, and the bullet you took for us?”
Torine, Darby, and Delchamps chuckled.
“You know what I mean, Karl,” Munz pursued.
“Straight answer?”
Munz nodded.
“There are some people I intuitively know I can trust. You’re one of them. That may not be professional or even smart, but—the proof being I’m not pushing up daisies—so far it’s worked.”
“Thank you,” Munz said softly, on the edge of emotion. “I had the same feeling about you.”
Their eyes met for a moment.
“Hurriedly changing the subject,” Castillo said, “pay close attention. Your leader has just had one of his brilliant—if somewhat off at a tangent—thoughts.”
“Can you hold it a minute, Ace?” Delchamps asked.
“Sure.”
“When I talked about Mullroney being useful in Paraguay, I meant it. Not only for the reasons I gave.”
“Okay?”
“Did you pick up on what Duffy said about him being worried about your health?”
Castillo nodded.
Delchamps said, “Somebody—Weiss, probably—has sent the CIA guy in Asunción a heads-up. ‘Watch out for Castillo.’”
“I sort of thought he would,” Castillo said.
“And did you sort of think his reaction would be ‘whack Castillo’? and/or ‘whack him and everybody with him’?”
“Who’s Weiss?” Darby asked.
Delchamps held up his hand, palm outward, as a sign to Darby to wait a minute.
Castillo shook his head.
“No. I didn’t,” Castillo said, simply.
“What’s your take on the threat, Alfredo?” Delchamps asked. “A little theater on Duffy’s part?”
“No. I think he believes there was a threat.”
“Which would mean he has somebody in the embassy, or at least somebody in Asunción, who he trusts and who fed him that,” Delchamps said.
Munz nodded his agreement.
Delchamps turned to Darby.
“Maybe you know him, Alex,” he said. “Company old-timer. Milton Weiss?”
“I don’t know him. I’ve seen him around.”
“Weiss first came to me, then to Castillo, and told us (a) that the station chief in Asunción is a lot smarter than he wants people to think he is, and (b) that they’ve got an operation going where they’re going to grab a cruise ship, maybe ships—”
“Cruise ships?” Darby said, incredulously.
Delchamps nodded, and continued, “Under maritime law, they’re subject to seizure if the owners collude in their use to transport drugs.”
“How are they going to prove the owners knew?” Darby asked.
“According to Weiss, they have that figured out,” Castillo said.
“And they don’t want our operation to free Timmons to fuck up that operation,” Delchamps said.
“At first it made sort of sense, but then I found out that the agency doesn’t know anything about this operation—for that matter, anything—going on down there that we could screw up getting Timmons back.”
“You think the bastards in Langley would tell you?” Darby asked.
Delchamps answered with a question: “Alex, do you think an operation like that would or could escape the notice of either John Powell or A. Franklin Lammelle?”
Darby considered that for a moment.
“No. One or the other, probably both, would know about it. The potential for it blowing up…”
“The DCI told me he knew of no such operation.”
“Told you personally?”
“Yeah. And I believed him. Then he sent for Lammelle, and asked him, and Lammelle said he didn’t know anything about it, either. And I believed him, too.”
“So what do you think’s going on?”
“I don’t know. But when I thought about it, putting myself in the Asunción station chief’s shoes, if I had come up with an operation anything like what Weiss told us he’s got going—and I’m not known for either modesty or my love for the Langley bastards—I’d want all the help I could get. Even if that meant taking it to Langley myself and waiting in the lobby or the guard shack to catch Lammelle or the DCI wherever I could find them.”
“Again, Edgar, what do you think’s going on?” Castillo asked.
“No goddamn idea, Ace, except that I know it’s not what Weiss has been feeding us. But now that we have it on good authority that my fellow officers of the clandestine service w
ant to whack me and the President’s agent, I’m beginning to wonder if maybe they’ve changed sides.”
“Jesus Christ,” Jake Torine said softly.
“So what do we do?” Castillo said.
“I don’t know that either. But I think—what I was saying before about Mullroney being useful—that you and he should go to the embassy in Asunción and let him stumble around.”
“Use him as a beard?” Castillo asked.
Delchamps nodded, then asked: “Can I use your 007 radio to make a couple of calls? Like maybe two hundred? There are some questions I can ask some people I know.”
“You don’t have to ask, for Christ’s sake,” Castillo said.
“That’s the best I can do right now, Ace. I suggest you go to Asunción with Mullroney, acting as if you don’t think there’s anything wrong, but it’s your call. You don’t have to be a rocket scientist to whack people.”
“I want to talk to Pevsner before I go to Asunción.”
“They’ll expect you two in Asunción as soon as you can get there,” Delchamps said simply.
“Let’s make that choice after we hear what Duffy has to say,” Castillo said.
“Okay. You need me in that meeting, or can I get on the horn?”
Before Castillo could open his mouth, Delchamps went on: “Sorry. We haven’t heard your brilliant thought.”
“It was brilliant just a few minutes ago,” Castillo said. “Now it doesn’t seem either very brilliant or especially important.”
“Let’s hear it,” Delchamps said.
“I was worried about the Hueys and the guys from the 160th on the Ronald Reagan.”
“Why?” Torine asked.
“There’s a two-star admiral on board. Two-star admirals tend to cover their ass. We can’t afford not to get those choppers repainted and off the ship, but the senior 160th guy is a major. Majors tend to do what flag and general officers tell them to do.”
“I knew a major one time, an Army Aviator, who didn’t seem all that impressed by two-stars,” Darby said. “He even stole one of their Black Hawks.”
“Borrowed, Alex. Borrowed. I gave it back,” Castillo said.
“What are you thinking, Charley?” Torine asked.
“That we need a more senior officer aboard the Reagan,” Castillo said. “Like maybe an Air Force colonel bearing a letter from Truman Ellsworth or maybe even Montvale, saying in essence, ‘Don’t fuck with the Hueys.’”
“God, you are devious!” Torine said. He thought that over a moment, and then said, “What if I got on—what did Edgar call it?—‘the 007 radio’ and called Ellsworth and said I was a little worried…”
“Talk about devious!” Delchamps said.
“…he would think it was his idea,” Torine finished. “When are the Hueys going to leave Rucker?”
“I don’t know,” Castillo said.
“So you call—you, Jake,” Delchamps said, “and find out, and then you call Ellsworth and say, ‘I just found out the choppers are about to go on board the Reagan, and I’m a little worried about something going wrong.’”
“Why do I feel I have just been had?” Torine asked. “Okay, Charley, you’re right. Some admiral is liable to feel he can’t get in trouble launching black helicopters if something happens—like being too far at sea—that keeps him from launching them.”
“Thanks, Jake.”
“Don’t be too grateful, Ace,” Delchamps said with a grin. “Nobody’s going to shoot at him on the Reagan, which I think explains his sudden enthusiasm.”
Torine gave him the finger.
“We can call from right here, right?” Torine asked.
Castillo nodded.
“That will be all, Colonel,” Torine said. “You may now go brief the troops.”
X
[ONE]
Nuestra Pequeña Casa
Mayerling Country Club
Pilar, Buenos Aires Province, Argentina
1220 9 September 2005
Castillo rapped a spoon against his coffee mug and waited silently until everybody who had gathered in the quincho was looking at him.
Then Castillo began: “An initial review of our current situation, gentlemen—and lady—suggested the possibility of some minor problems. A more detailed analysis indicates that we are really in the deep do-do.”
That got the chuckles he expected.
“Let me trace the events from the moment Max found Lieutenant Lorimer sneaking through our shrubbery….”
Castillo had gotten as far into his recapitulation of what had happened since they had hurriedly left Argentina as the Chicago meeting of Special Agent Timmons’s family—and the mayor—when Jake Torine appeared in the door of the quincho.
Castillo made a T with his hands, signaling Time out, and walked to the quincho door.
“Sorry to interrupt, Colonel,” Torine announced, “but I really need a moment of your time.”
Castillo gestured for Torine to follow him outside.
“I called Rucker,” Torine said once they were alone. “Major Ward told me they’re going to fly to Jacksonville Naval Air Station tomorrow, and then, the day after tomorrow, fly out to the Ronald Reagan.”
“Why?”
“Jacksonville, Florida,” Torine explained. “East Coast, almost at the Georgia border.”
“I know where Jacksonville is, Jake. But why not go to Jacksonville the day after tomorrow, take on fuel, and then fly onto the Reagan? Their sitting around Jacksonville for a day will cause questions to be asked.”
“Ward says the Navy wants to make sure they’re not going to sink the aircraft carrier trying to land on it.”
“That’s bullshit, Jake. The pilots in the 160th are the best in the Army, the most experienced. And landing a Huey on a carrier is a hell of a lot easier than making an arrested landing with a fighter.”
“That’s what I told Truman Ellsworth,” Torine said. He waited until he saw Castillo’s reaction to that, then smiled and nodded.
“I called him,” Torine went on, “and reminded him that he had suggested I call him if you had done something impulsive. And then I told him you had arranged to send choppers to South America aboard the Ronald Reagan, and I was afraid that the Navy didn’t like it—proof being the ‘orientation’ they were insisting on—and was going to cause trouble.”
He paused.
“I was good, Charley. I didn’t know I had it in me.”
“Maybe because you don’t like Ellsworth any more than I do.”
“That’s a real possibility. My conscience didn’t bother me at all.”
“And what did our mutual friend have to say?”
“He said he’d call me right back. Five minutes later, Montvale called me. First thing, he asked where you were. I told him you were somewhere between Buenos Aires and Asunción. Which is true. So then he said he would have to deal with this himself. He said it was a pity I wasn’t in the States, because what he really would like to do is send me aboard the Reagan to keep an eye on things.”
“And?”
“I told him I would be in the States tomorrow.”
“And?”
“And he said, ‘Don’t plan on unpacking your bags when you get to Washington, Colonel, you’re going for a little voyage.’ To which I replied, ‘What will I tell Castillo?’ To which he replied, “I’ll deal with Lieutenant Colonel Castillo, Colonel Torine. You don’t have to worry about that.’”
“So the thing to do,” Castillo said, “is get you back to the States as soon as possible. Which opens a new can of worms. For one thing, you just got here; you’re tired, you don’t want to—shouldn’t—fly right back. The flip side of that is: What is the Evil Leprechaun going to say when I call him? He may consider the Gulfstream as one of the assets he wants me to share with him. So getting it out of here as soon as possible is probably smart.”
“What about me taking Dave Yung and Colin Leverette to Montevideo?” Torine suggested. “Right now, I mean. Sparkman and I cou
ld crash in Two-Gun’s apartment for a while—five, six hours, anyway—then leave for the States later today, tonight, or first thing in the morning.”
“That’d work. But the worm that pops up there is: How do we get the airplane back here? Ambassador Lorimer, his wife, and the two guys from China Post will be on board.”
“I can get another Gulfstream pilot from the Presidential Flight Detachment.”
Castillo, visibly thinking, didn’t reply.
“Isn’t that what you meant?” Torine pursued.
Castillo didn’t have time to reply. Edgar Delchamps was walking toward them from the house. Max decided Delchamps had come out to play, intercepted him, and dropped a tennis ball at his feet. Delchamps picked up the ball and threw it as far across the yard as he could, then walked up to Castillo and Torine.
“I just had a brilliant insight of my own,” Delchamps announced. “Anybody interested?”
“I’m breathless with anticipation,” Torine said.
“We’re just spinning our wheels if we can’t get the choppers off the Reagan and refuel them at Shangri-La. And the key to making that happen is Chief Inspector José Ordóñez. If you can’t get Ordóñez to look the other way, we’re fucked. And you don’t know how much damage your new pal Duffy has done with him.”
Castillo considered that a moment. “You’re right,” he said. “I don’t suppose you had a solution to go along with your insight?”
“The obvious one: Go see him.”
“Me? Or Alfredo? Or both? You remember the last time we saw Ordóñez he said, ‘So long, and don’t come back’?”
“Why don’t you ask Munz?”
“Jake and I had just about decided that he’d drop off Yung and Leverette in Montevideo on his way to the States,” Castillo said. “No reason he couldn’t take Munz with him. Or both of us.”
He stepped into the quincho doorway and motioned for Alfredo Munz to come out. Then he raised his voice and announced to the others, “Something’s come up that we have to deal with right away. Just sit tight.”
Munz waited for Castillo to speak.
“Two questions, Alfredo: How much damage did Liam Duffy do to us with Ordóñez?”
“I was about to suggest that we go see him,” Munz said. “Until we do that, we won’t know how much damage he’s caused, and it’s important that we know.”
The Shooters Page 37
