"…I'm going to have to get authority to let you take that," Franklin said.
"As soon as we see what else you have, we'll get on the horn to the ambassador," Castillo replied and then opened the larger box.
I got lucky again.
The box held a Micro Uzi submachine gun, the smallest and, as far as Castillo was concerned, the most desirable of the three variants of the Uzi.
Seeing the Uzi triggered a series of connects in his brain:
The Uzi is named after its designer, Lieutenant Colonel Uziel Gal, of the Israeli Army…CONNECT…My God, now I'm a lieutenant colonel!…CONNECT…Gal retired and lived in Philadelphia until he died a couple of years ago…CONNECT…Chief Inspector Dutch Kramer of the Philly P.D. Counterterrorism Bureau told me that…CONNECT…Betty Schneider used to work for Kramer…CONNECT…No, she worked for Captain Frank O'Brien in Intelligence and Organized Crime…CONNECT…And I didn't call her before I came over here. Or since…
What the hell's the matter with me?
Well, it's not as if I've been sprawled in a chair watching TV and sucking on a beer.
I'll call her the first chance I get and explain. As soon as I get to the hotel. She'll understand.
He turned his attention to the Micro Uzi and took it from its box. It looked almost brand-new.
Castillo had had a lot of experience with the Uzi in the three common variants-Standard, Mini, and Micro-which all fired the 9mm Luger Parabellum cartridge, which was a much better cartridge than the 9mm Kurz.380 ACP.
The Standard Uzi, with a full magazine, weighed about eight pounds, just about what the standard M-16 rifle weighed. The Mini Uzi weighed just under six pounds, about half a pound more than the Car-4 version of the M-16. The Micro weighed about three and a half pounds. There was no equivalent version of the M-16.
Which was one of the reasons why the Micro was a favored weapon of special operators. Another was that it had a much higher rate of fire, 1,250 rounds per minute, double that of the Standard and 300 rpm more than the Micro. In Castillo's mind, using the Micro was like having a shotgun in your hand, with nowhere near the bulk, weight, or recoil of a 12-gauge shotgun.
"At the risk of repeating myself," Castillo said, "just what the doctor ordered."
Franklin looked at him uncomfortably but didn't say anything.
"Let's go get you off hook and get the ambassador on the horn," Castillo said.
"Why don't we?" Franklin said, and added, "Let me carry those for you, Mr. Castillo."
Does he think I'm going to grab them and run out of the embassy?
"Thank you," Castillo said. "And I'll need ammunition. A couple of boxes of 9mm Parabellum and a box of.22 Long Rifle, please."
Franklin nodded, went into a cabinet inside the locker, and came out with the ammunition. A fat man in a white shirt limp with sweat was coming heavily down the stairwell as they went up.
"There's a call from the White House switchboard for Colonel Castillo, Mr. Franklin," he announced in awe.
"Come into the phone room with me, please, Mr. Franklin," Castillo said. "If that's who I think it is, maybe we won't have to bother the ambassador." "We have Colonel Castillo on a secure line for you, Director Montvale," the White House operator announced.
"Director Montvale is ready for the colonel," Montvale said.
"Good afternoon, sir," Castillo said.
"I'm glad I caught you, Colonel. We seem to be having communications problems."
"It seems that way, sir. Sir, before we get into this, I have Mr. Franklin with me…"
"Who?"
"He's the CIA station chief, sir."
"What's that about?"
"I need a weapon-weapons-sir, and he seems uncomfortable giving them to me."
"Why do you need a weapon?"
Castillo didn't reply. After ten seconds, which seemed much longer, Ambassador Montvale said, a touch of resignation in his voice, "'Put him on the line."
"Is there a speakerphone on this?" Castillo asked Franklin.
"There's a switch on the wall," Franklin said, then went to it and pushed a button.
"Nathaniel Franklin, sir," he announced.
"Do you know who I am?" Montvale asked.
"Yes, sir. We've spoken before. You're Ambassador Montvale, the director-"
"'Yes, sir' would have been sufficient," Montvale interrupted him. "Now, there's two ways we can deal with Colonel Castillo's request. You can give him whatever he asks for. Or I will call the DCI and in a couple of minutes he will call you and tell you to give the colonel whatever he asks for. What would you like to do?"
"Your permission is all I need, Mr. Ambassador," Franklin said.
"Thank you, Mr. Franklin. Nice to talk to you."
Castillo looked at Franklin and then waited until Franklin had left the small room and closed the door before going on.
"Elvis has left the theater, Mr. Ambassador," he said.
He had just enough time to decide That was a dumb thing to say when he heard Montvale laugh.
"I told you, Charley, I can be useful," he said. "If I had had to call John Powell, then the DCI would want to know why you wanted his weapons."
"I told you I was going to Budapest to see if I can get my source to release me from my promise not to pass along to anyone what he gave me. When I got here, I learned that an attempt to kidnap him had been made. I want to keep him alive. I can't do that without a weapon."
"You can protect him yourself, you think?"
"I've already started getting help. Local help."
"How long is this going to take? Getting your source to release you-or refuse to release you-from your promise?"
"Several days, probably."
"You want me to tell Mr. Franklin to help you protect this chap?"
"I think that would draw attention I'd rather not have to my source. But thank you."
"If you change your mind, let me know."
"Yes, sir, I will. Thank you."
"Tell me about explosive suitcases in Pennsylvania."
"I told Major Miller to tell you about that. Didn't he?"
"He didn't seem to think that a possible nuclear device in a briefcase was very important."
"Sir, he didn't think it was credible. Neither did the chief of counterterrorism of the Philadelphia Police Department. That's not the same thing as saying they don't think the threat of a small nuclear device is important."
"You sent people up there to look into it," Montvale challenged.
"The reason I sent them up there was to see where the AALs got the money to buy a farm…"
"The what?"
"AALs. That's what the Philly cops call the Muslim brothers of the Aari-Teg mosque. It stands for 'African American Lunatics.'"
"Not only is that politically incorrect but, as I recall, those lunatics were involved in the theft of the 727."
"Yes, sir, they were, and that's why the Philly cops and the Secret Service-the Secret Service at my request-are keeping an eye on them. I'd like to find out what their connection with the people who stole the 727 was-is."
"And you think you can investigate this matter better than the FBI?"
"I think the Secret Service agent I sent up there-he was an undercover cop in the mosque for several years-can. Yes, sir. I think that all FBI involvement would do is tip them off that we're watching them. I hope you don't feel compelled to bring the FBI in."
"You realize what a spot that puts me in, Castillo? If it turns out there's something to this, and I heard there was, and didn't tell the FBI what I'd heard…"
"This is what I was afraid of when we struck our deal, sir. If we hadn't, then I wouldn't have told you and the problem wouldn't have come up."
There was a perceptible pause before Montvale replied.
"On the other hand, Charley, if we hadn't come to an accommodation you'd have had to take the train to Budapest, not gotten to fly that airplane, and you wouldn't have the weapons Whatshisname is about to give you, right?"
"Yes, sir. I can't argue with that."
"Okay. Let me think about it. I won't get the FBI involved…"
"Thank you. All they would do right now is get in the way…"
"…at this time. If I do decide they have to know, I'll tell you before I tell them."