“He’s usually much faster than that,” Davidson said with a straight face.
“Bradley—” Castillo began.
“May I see you a moment, please, Colonel?” Alfredo Munz interrupted.
Castillo followed him toward the Aero Commander.
Duffy’s face showed that he didn’t like Munz and Castillo having a private conversation.
But there doesn’t seem to be anything that can be done about it.
Munz, his back to Duffy, immediately proved him wrong.
“Take out some money, and count out a lot of it, and hand it to me,” Munz said. “I’m making it seem like I don’t want Liam to see.”
Castillo didn’t hesitate.
“Charley, I think I had better go with you to Bariloche,” Munz said.
“I can handle her, Alfredo.”
“And I can handle Liam’s gendarmes in Bariloche,” Munz said, “who I suspect are going to try to be far more helpful than you want them to be.”
Munz put the money in his pocket, laid a hand on Castillo’s shoulder in thanks for the cash, and led him back to the others.
“Colonel,” Sparkman said, and handed him a flight plan. “Perfect weather all the way.”
“Thank you,” Castillo said.
And what happens to you, Dick, if—when—the worst scenario happens?
That would effectively end your Air Force career. Getting shot down in flames for your association with the disgraced OOA will be even worse for you than your association with the Air Commandos.
“Colonel,” Davidson said, “I put an AFC device aboard.”
“Thank you.”
Munz handed Davidson the wad of hundred-dollar bills Castillo had given him.
Duffy’s face showed he wondered what the hell that was all about.
“Lester,” Castillo ordered, “go with Colonel Munz and put the lady in a backseat in the airplane.”
“Yes, sir.”
As she walked past him, Lieutenant Colonel Alekseeva asked Castillo if she could ask where they were going.
He didn’t reply.
[FOUR]
The Llao Llao Resort Hotel
San Carlos de Bariloche
Río Negro Province, Argentina
1625 30 December 2005
The manager of the luxury resort—who was attired in a tailcoat and striped trousers—met them at the front door, shook Munz’s hand, ignored everybody else, and led them through the lobby—where a dozen employees were engaged in changing the holiday decorations from Christmas to New Year’s—then to the elevator bank, and on to a top-floor suite.
“This will do nicely, thank you,” Munz said after examining the four rooms. “I will need keys for all the doors, of course.”
The manager handed him a dozen keys on a ring.
“The boat is available at the dock, Colonel,” he said, bowed his head, and left.
“May I use the restroom?” Svetlana asked.
Munz pointed to a door.
“Wait outside for her, Bradley,” Castillo ordered. “If she tries to get away, try not to shoot her, but . . .”
“Yes, sir.”
Svetlana did not look at Castillo as she walked past him. Max walked after both of them. Castillo set the puppy on the floor, where he immediately followed his father to the bathroom door, then raised his leg against the leg of a small table and puddled the carpet.
“I wonder where he gets it all,” Castillo said, almost admiringly.
“You’re taking him with you?” Munz asked.
Castillo nodded.
“He’s for Elena. For her and Sergei and Aleksandr, but primarily for her.”
Munz nodded.
“I’d like to think I’m doing that simply to be a nice guy,” Castillo said. “But I’m not sure if it’s not because it will get to Pevsner.”
“I like the kids, too,” Munz said. “And I know you’re a nice guy, whether or not you like to admit it.”
Castillo looked at him but remained silent.
And what happens to you, Alfredo, when the worst scenario comes down?
A nice settlement payment, of course, but what about after that?
Munz pulled back his jacket, revealing a revolver in a high-mount hip holster.
Castillo recognized the offer and shook his head. “I go in peace. And I would be heavily outgunned, anyway.”
“Well, don’t worry about Mata Hari. I can deal with her,” Munz said, then smiled and added, “Or if I can’t, Lester can.”
Castillo chuckled.
She’s figured that out. She may be curious about Lester, but she saw that very professional display of pistol handling, and as a pistoleer herself, she knows that there is a very strong chance she will be wounded seriously with a heavy-caliber bullet if she tries to run.
And by now she also knows that despite some spectacular initial success in turning me into a chump, that’s over. She’s given up on the soulful looks into my eyes.
“You know how to get to the boat?” Munz asked.
“Get on the elevator and push the Minus-2 button, and then down the corridor.”
“You sure you don’t want me to go with you?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
Castillo walked to the bathroom door, scooped up the puppy, said, “Come on, Max,” then nodded at Munz and walked out of the suite.
Castillo heard the boat’s engine quietly burbling when he walked out onto the long pier jutting into the lake, but he couldn’t see it until he was almost to where it was tied by the stern to the pier.
He was a little surprised by the boat. He expected a cabin cruiser. This was—he searched for the word and after a moment found it—a speedboat. There had been one like it when he was a kid, at the beach house on the Gulf of Mexico. That had been a Chris-Craft, and he and Fernando were never allowed to take it out themselves—but of course had—as their grandfather thought it was dangerous in ocean water.
The speedboat waiting for him now was made of mahogany and had two passenger compartments, one fore and one aft, with the engine mounted between them. The forward compartment had the controls and an automobile-like steering wheel. The aft compartment had a leather-upholstered seat for three behind a small windshield that was supposed to protect the passengers from spray—but never did.
The man standing on the pier directed him: “In the rear seat, please, mi coronel . For the balance.”
“Thank you,” Castillo said, and, holding the puppy against him, carefully stepped into the boat and then down into the seat. Max leapt effortlessly aboard, inspected the front compartment, then came back and sat beside Castillo.
Castillo then set the pup on the footboards. He had not thought to bring newspaper or one of the Llao Llao’s monogrammed towels with him.
The man untied the stern, then jumped onto the boat, causing it to rock somewhat. He squatted beside Castillo and handed him a cellular phone.
“I know the colonel has probably told you, mi coronel, but button seven is my phone and button four is the colonel.”
Munz had not said a word.
“Thank you,” Castillo said.
“I will take you to the pier. You can get out without help?”
“Yes.”
“And then I will go beyond the floodlights, which, if they don’t come on as we approach the pier, will do so as soon as you step on the pier. There are motion sensors.”
“Okay.”
“There is a guard shack, usually only one man, at the shore end of the pier.”