Castillo went to the cockpit.
"Jake, no formalities. Just file a flight plan."
"Where the hell are our passengers?" Torine wondered aloud.
"I don't know. First things first: file the flight plan."
By the time Torine reached the doorway, the Airport Gourmet truck had backed up to it, so close that when the doors in the rear swung open they almost touched the fuselage.
Dammit! Torine thought. Careful near the aircraft!
A man in a business suit leaped nimbly from the truck into the Gulfstream.
"?Buenos tardes!" he said, cheerfully, then looked at the distance between the truck and where he stood, shook his head in disappointment, and went down the stairs. He stood at the rear of the truck and held up his hands, as if to catch someone.
A young girl jumped down. She kissed the man on the cheek, then looked at Castillo, as if asking for permission to climb the stair door steps.
Castillo thought, That has to be Alfredo's youngest daughter.
He smiled and waved her onto the plane.
In short order, another young woman and then an older one jumped from the truck, kissed the man in the suit, and came onto the airplane. The man then climbed the stairs, looked around the cabin, and went in.
"Just to be careful, I think we'd better close these," he said and pulled down the curtains over the windows beside the couches.
FBI Special Agent William D. Yung, Jr., jumped from the truck into the airplane.
"You are going to tell me what's going on, right?" Castillo asked Yung.
"Colonel Castillo, this is Chief Inspector Ordonez," Yung said, gesturing to the man in the suit.
Jesus Christ, what the hell's the matter with Yung introducing me by name? And by rank?
Ordonez smiled at Castillo, put out his hand, and said, "Let me express my gratitude to you, Colonel, for doing what you are doing for the family of our mutual friend, Alfredo."
Castillo shook the hand but didn't reply.
Ordonez turned to Torine.
"You're the pilot?"
Torine nodded.
"Operations is right over there," Ordonez said, pointing. "I suggest that you file to Porto Alegre, Brazil. That will attract far less attention than a destination farther north."
Torine shrugged, then looked at Castillo, his facing asking, Why not?
Castillo nodded.
"And I further suggest that the sooner you get off the ground, the better," Ordonez said.
Torine went down the stairs and, passing a fuel truck that had just pulled up alongside the portside wing, walked quickly to the Base Operations building.
Ordonez turned to Yung. "You will help me with the picnic lunch, David?"
Yung nodded.
Ordonez looked at the women, who were now all sitting on the couch.
"You are in good hands. I will look after Alfredo.?Via con Dios!"
Then he went down the stairs and started to climb onto the truck.
Yung handed Castillo a folded sheet of typewriter paper.
"Everything I know is on here," he said and went down the stairs.
Castillo started to unfold the sheet of paper, but before he had finished he heard Yung call his name. He went to the door. Yung was extending an insulated container to him. Castillo went halfway down the stairs and took it from him. He some what awkwardly turned and set the container on the floor of the passenger compartment.
When he turned again, Yung was holding another identical container. By the time he got that into the airplane and turned again, he saw that Ordonez was hauling Yung into the Airport Gourmet truck.
"Call the office and leave a number where I can reach you!" Castillo called out.
Yung nodded as the truck doors swung closed. A moment later, the truck pulled away.
Castillo smiled.
"Call the office and leave a number where I can reach you," said the aluminum-siding sales manager to one of his problematic sales counselors.
Jesus H. Christ!
He sensed the eyes of the women on him. He walked into the cabin.
"I'm Carlos Castillo, a friend of your father," he said to the youngest daughter.
She smiled shyly at him.
"You speak Spanish very well for a Norteamericano," the girl said.
"Thank you very much," Castillo said.
"Here comes Jake!" Lopez called from the cockpit.
Five minutes later, after Torine dealt with the fuel crew and did his walk-around inspection of the aircraft, he came up the stairs and pulled the door shut behind him.
"Wind it up, Fernando," he called and turned to Castillo.
"We can take off local and change to Porto Alegre in the air," he said.
Torine looked at the women and addressed the youngest girl.
"Do you speak English?"
"Si, senor. A little."
Torine smiled. "I'm the pilot. If the flight attendant here doesn't give you everything you want, you just let me know. I have to tell you, he's one of our worst."
She smiled at him and then at Castillo.
There came the whine of an engine starting.
Sixty seconds later, the Gulfstream started to move.
Castillo had unfolded the sheet of typewriter paper and was reading it before they reached the threshold of the active runway. Colonel- I wasn't sure if we would have time to talk. This is written before we go to the airport, of course, where we all may be led off in handcuffs. Ordonez is one smart cop. Luckily for us, he's a good friend of Munz. He knows a lot-too much, but not everything-about the estancia. He knows the Russian mafiosa's helicopter was there. He suspects his involvement. He knows what happened has nothing to do with Lorimer being a drug dealer. He knows it has to do with the oil-for-food business. I'm afraid I may have confirmed this for him. He knows that we grabbed the money. No proof, but he knows, and I know he's good at finding proof of what he suspects. He has positively identified (by fingerprints) one of the Ninjas as Major Alejandro Vincenzo of the Cuban Direccion General de Inteligencia, who he met when Castro was in Montevideo and Vincenzo was in charge of his security. I think as soon as we can get on a secure line we should talk. If I have screwed things up, I'm really sorry. Yung
Castillo read the note twice, then folded it and put it in his shirt pocket.
When the Gulfstream was at altitude, he went to the cockpit and showed it to Torine and Lopez. [FOUR] San Antonio International Airport San Antonio, Texas 0350 10 August 2005 Castillo woke up when Lopez shook his shoulder. He had been sleeping uncomfortably most of the way from Quito in one of the chairs next to the forward bulkhead of the passenger compartment, his feet on the facing chair.
The younger Munz girl was in the chair across the aisle. Senora Munz and the older girl had taken the two couches. When he opened his eyes, Castillo saw that they were now sitting up, and that the eyes of the younger girl, now sitting tensely in her chair, showed concern, maybe even fear.
And then he saw why.
There were four other people in the passenger compartment. One of them was nattily dressed in the uniform of a lieutenant of the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services. The other three were heavily armed and dressed in black jumpsuits, on the breasts of which were badges of officers of the U.S. Customs and Border Protection service.
One of the Customs officers, an enormous, swarthy man, held an Uzi in the position that caused Castillo to speak rudely to him.
"Point that goddamned muzzle at the floor!" Castillo barked, in English.
"Gringo," Lopez said, cautiously.
The officer moved the Uzi toward Castillo.
"You don't speak English?" Castillo snapped, in Spanish. "Don't point that thing at me!"
"Take it easy, sir," the Citizenship and Immigration Services lieutenant said.
The lieutenant looked at the big guy holding the Uzi and ordered, "Lower that muzzle."
"Better…" Castillo said, still furious.
"Carlos," Lopez said, "these gentlemen wish to search the aircraft and our luggage. Torine thought you might wish to discuss that with them."
"We are going to search the aircraft, understand that!" the enormous swarthy man announced, not at all pleasantly.