Is this punishment for bringing what you think is the CIA with me?
No. You wrote my speech before you knew I had.
What this is, is Teutonic stupidity!
He looked back at Davidson and said in Russian, “Two thousand five hundred eight. Two thousand five hundred eleven.”
Now both Kocian and Görner looked at him in confusion.
“Daddy’s proud of you,” Davidson said in Pashtu, and meant it. He had been witness to Castillo losing his temper. “You get a gold star to take home to Mommy.”
“That’s a very good idea, Otto,” Castillo said in English. “And thank you for this.” He held up the sheet of paper. “After I announce the reward, what happens?”
“We go to Wetzlar so that you and Billy can pay your respects to Frau Friedler.”
“I see a couple of problems with that, Otto. One is that I didn’t know Herr Friedler or his wife and feel that I would be intruding on Frau Friedler’s time with Billy.”
Kocian grunted his agreement.
“Another is the dogs,” Castillo went on. “I don’t think Billy wants to take Mädchen and the pups, and I know I don’t want—”
“Pups?” Görner asked. “You mean baby dogs?”
“Four of them,” Castillo said, pointing down the aisle at the travel kennel. “One of them is a gift from Billy and myself to your kids, our godchildren.”
“We can talk about that later,” Görner said.
“And I want to get Inspector Doherty and Special Agent Yung—”
“Who?”
“They’re FBI, Otto. I want to get them together with the German police as quickly as possible—”
“Karl, I don’t know about that,” Görner protested.
“We’re going to need all the help we can get to find these murderers, Otto,” Billy Kocian said. “And Doherty and Yung are recognized experts in their fields.”
He didn’t say which fields, Castillo thought admiringly.
I don’t think either one of them knows much about investigating a murder. But Billy knows Otto can be a self-righteous pain in the ass unless you control him.
And already Billy is acting in charge, letting Otto know, as I’d hoped.
“I’ll get on the phone,” Görner said.
“So what I’m thinking, Otto, is that it would be best if you took Billy to Wetzlar and I took Doherty and Yung to Marburg—put them up in the Europäischer Hof, where they could get together with the authorities first thing in the morning. Then I’ll take everybody else—including the dogs—with me in either the Jag or the Mercedes and the van to the Haus im Wald. That make sense?”
“It does to me,” Billy Kocian said, his tone suggesting his opinion settled the matter once and for all.
Görner looked at him for a long moment, made a face of resignation, and nodded.
“Take my Jaguar,” he said. “I suspect I will need a drink—several drinks—in Wetzlar, and I don’t want to drink and drive.”
[FOUR]
Route A5
Near Bad Homburg
2210 26 December 2005
“Please do so,” Castillo said in response to an announcement from the information operator that, having found the number he asked for, they would for a small fee be happy to connect him directly.
Castillo was driving the Jaguar. Edgar Delchamps was in the front passenger seat. David Yung and Jack Davidson were squeezed in the backseat with Max between them. Max looked out the rear window at the Mercedes-Benz van that was following them and carrying Jack Doherty, Jake Torine, Dick Sparkman, Mädchen, the puppies, two members of the Gossinger Beteiligungsgesellschaft, G.m.b.H., security staff, and their luggage.
“Europäischer Hof,” came over the speaker system of the Jaguar. “Guten Abend.”
“Here is Karl von und zu Gossinger, of Gossinger Beteiligungsgesellschaft,” Castillo replied more than a little imperiously in German.
“And how may we be of service, Herr von und zu Gossinger?”
“I will require accommodations for the next few days for two business associates. A suite with separate bedrooms would be preferable, but failing that, two of your better singles.”
“We will be honored to be of service, Herr von und zu Gossinger. When may we expect your associates?”
“In about an hour. I presume there will be no difficulty in billing this directly to the firm?”
“None whatever.”
“We will wish to eat. Will that pose a problem?”
“We will keep the restaurant open for your guests, Herr Gossinger.”
Castillo’s face wrinkled as he continued looking forward and mentally counted heads.
“There will be nine of us.”
“We look forward to serving you, Herr von und zu Gossinger.”
“Thank you very much,” Castillo said, and reached for the telephone’s OFF button on the spoke of the steering wheel.
Edgar Delchamps applauded.
“Very good, Herr von und zu Gossinger,” he said. “Just the right touch of polite arrogance. I could hear him clicking his heels.”
“Well, you know what they say, Edgar. ‘When in Rome,’ or for that matter, in Das Vaterland . . .”
“That said, don’t you think it’s about time to bring your business associates up to speed about where everybody, including you, fits into the landscape?”
Castillo was silent a long time as he considered that. Then he made a small frown that suggested, Why not?
“Okay,” he said. “Take notes. There will be a quiz. Think Stalingrad. The Red Army is firing harassing and intermittent artillery at the Germans. They get lucky and make a hit on a Kublewagon—”
“A what?” Yung asked.
“The military version of the Volkswagen Bug,” Davidson furnished. “They were selling them in the States a while back.”
“Oh, yeah. I remember,” Yung said. “Cute little car!”
“If I may be permitted to continue with the history lesson?” In the rearview mirror, he saw Yung mouth, Sorry. “Thank you. Said Kublewagon was carrying a light bird, general staff corps, on Von Paulus’s staff—”
“I remember Von Paulus,” Delchamps said. “He got on the phone to Hitler, told him they were surrounded, out of ammo, down to eating their horses, and could he please surrender? To which Der Führer replied, ‘Congratulations, General, you are now a field marshal. German field marshals do not surrender. You do have, of course, the option of suicide. . . .’ ”
“Really?” Yung asked.
“And the next day, Field Marshal von Paulus surrendered,” Delchamps finished, “in effect telling Hitler, ‘Screw you, my Führer.’ ”
Castillo said: “If I may continue: The light bird in the Kublewagon suffered life-threatening wounds and would have been KIA had not an eighteen-year-old Gefreite—a corporal—from Vienna dragged him into the basement of a building and applied lifesaving measures. No good deed goes unpunished, as you know. The next couple of H-and-I rounds hit the building, causing the corporal to also suffer grievous wounds.
“The next day, the medics found both of them and loaded them—my grandfather the light bird and Billy Kocian the corporal—on one of the last medical evacuation flights back to the Fatherland . . .”
“No shit!” Yung said wonderingly.
“. . . where both were put into an army hospital in Giessen, which is not far from where we’re going. Billy got out first. To keep him from being sent back to the Eastern Front, good ol’ Grandpa got him assigned as his orderly. When Grandpa got out of the hospital, they put him in charge of an officer’s POW camp in Poland. He took Gefreite Kocian with him.