"They're good guys, Max," Castillo said, in Hungarian. "Down."
Max walked to where Castillo was sitting and lay down at his feet.
"What is that, a Hungarian Great Dane?" Torine asked. "Where did he come from?"
"He's Billy Kocian's."
"What happened to his head?"
"We have problems, Jake. We have to go wheels-up as soon as possible."
"Charley, we just flew here from Baltimore, with only a piss stop at Frankfurt."
"What kind of problems, Gringo?" Fernando Lopez asked.
"The bad guys tried to kidnap Billy Kocian. Max grabbed the arm of one of them and the bad guy clobbered him with his pistol, whereupon another bad guy shot Billy. Twice. Luckily, not bad. We're getting him out of the hospital right about now. As soon as he shows me where his files are, we're going back to the airport."
"Why the hurry?"
"Getting him out of here is the best way I can think of to keep him alive."
"He wouldn't be safe here?" Fernando asked. "At least for eight hours, so we can get some sleep? Christ, there were half a dozen of what I presume are Hungarian rent-a-cops in the lobby and four more when we got off the elevator."
"You can sleep as long as you want to and then catch a plane home," Castillo said. "Jake and I have to get Billy out of Budapest."
"You really think they'll try something again?" Torine asked.
"They already did," Castillo said. "Two of them came in here at half past one."
"And?" Fernando asked.
"Max woke me up. I took them out."
"You took them out?" Torine repeated.
Castillo nodded.
"Jesus Christ!" Torine said.
"I didn't have any choice, Jake."
"And are there going to be complications from that? The local cops, for example?"
"I don't think so."
"Are you all right, Gringo?" Fernando asked.
"I'm fine," Castillo said and turned to Torine. "If you get the Gulfstream in the air, Jake, I can steer while you take a nap."
Torine's face showed he was less than enthusiastic about that idea.
"I wouldn't ask you to do this unless I thought it was really necessary," Castillo said.
Torine shrugged.
"I penciled in a flight plan to Buenos Aires on the way over," he said. "Budapest, Dakar, and across the drink to Recife, Brazil. Then down to Buenos Aires. It's about six hours from here to Dakar. Figuring two fuel stops at an hour each and fifteen hours in the air, give or take. If we leave here at, say, eight, we should be in Buenos Aires-there's a four-time-zone difference-we should be in BA before midnight."
"That'll work," Fernando said. "We can take turns sleeping. One of us on one of the couches, the other in the right seat."
"You're not going," Castillo said. "You're going home, commercial."
"I'll go home commercial from Buenos Aires," Fernando said. "Not open for discussion."
"Who all's going," Torine asked, "besides Kocian?"
"Billy, me, a guy named Sandor Tor, and Max."
"And Sandor Tor is?" Torine asked.
"Billy's bodyguard, and a good one."
"He knows what's going on?"
Castillo nodded.
"The dog is going?" Fernando asked.
"Absolutely," Castillo said.
"I'll call for the weather," Torine said. "Somebody order up some breakfast. And-can we do this, Charley?-some in flight rations." [SIX] Danubius Hotel Gellert Szent Gellert ter 1 Budapest, Hungary 0720 7 August 2005 Eric Kocian, visibly in a foul mood, was rolled into his apartment in a wheelchair by Sandor Tor. He was accompanied by three security guards and Dr. Czerny. Czerny, the reason for Kocian's foul mood, had made his personal approval of where Kocian would be resting in bed a condition to discharge the old man from the hospital.
Castillo wondered if Czerny's concern was based on friendship for the old man or was a manifestation of his professional concern for Kocian's health, and when the doctor came out of Kocian's bedroom Castillo took him aside and told him that he planned to leave Budapest immediately if Kocian's physical condition would make that possible.
"Ordinarily, I'd say no," Czerny replied, "but I know-Tor told me-not only what happened on the bridge but what happened here earlier this morning. So with my priority being keeping my patient alive, I prescribe getting him as far away from Budapest as possible as quickly as possible."
"That's what I'm thinking," Castillo said. "I think it'll be a day or two before these people realize he's gone. And there will be no record-no airline tickets, no rail tickets, etcetera-to give them an idea where he might be. I'm hoping they think Vienna or Fulda."
Dr. Czerny nodded his agreement.
Czerny said, "I just wish those bedlike seats on airplanes were really beds. What he should be doing is lying down."
"There are real beds-actually, couches-on the airplane where he could lie down and be strapped in. That is, if I can get him to lie down, much less get him to allow me to strap him down."
Dr. Czerny reached in his pocket and came out with a plastic vial.
"Give him one of these air-sickness pills. In ten minutes, he'll get drowsy."
"And if he won't take one?"
"Break open the capsule and mix the powder with anything he'll drink." Three minutes after Dr. Czerny had checked Kocian a final time-to make sure he was in bed in his pajamas-and had given Castillo a package of bandages and medicines and then left the apartment, and as Castillo was wondering how soon he could get Kocian to dress, Kocian appeared in the sitting room, awkwardly trying to button the sleeves of his shirt. Castillo went to help him.
"What time's the plane?" Kocian demanded, casually.
"Just as soon as we can get your files and to the airport."
"Have you thought about Argentine regulations about taking a dog into their country?" Kocian asked, and, when he saw the look on Castillo's face, added: "I didn't think you would have, Karlchen. I have looked into the matter. What we have to do is go to Dr. Kincs-Max's veterinarian-and get a certificate of health and a copy of his inoculations record."
"Can we send Tor?"
"I'll call and find out," Kocian said.
Five minutes later, Tor was on his way to the veterinarian's office.
"What about your files, Eric?" Castillo asked after Tor had left.
"Oh, yes, those," Kocian replied and walked over to a bookcase.
He took a book from the shelf and handed it to Castillo.
Castillo had read the book title-Ot Pervovo Litsa (First Person)-a collection of interviews with Russian president Vladimir Putin that Putin authorized to be published as a sort-of autobiography.
Castillo looked quesioningly at Kocian.
"You can't judge a book by its cover, Karlchen."
Castillo opened the book. It had been carefully hollowed out enough to hold a black leather-and-chrome object a half inch thick, three inches wide, and nine inches long. Castillo knew what it was: a state-of-the-art external hard drive for a computer.
"Eighty gigabytes," Kocian said. "Those Japanese are really clever, aren't they, Karlchen?"
"The Japanese are good at making things, but this technology came out of Las Vegas, Nevada," Castillo said, "not Japan."
"And how do you know that?"
"Because Aloysius Francis Casey of the AFC Corporation, who came up with the technology, sent me a prototype. I've got it in my briefcase. One hundred twenty gigs. Would you like to see it?"
"That won't be necessary."
"Everything's in here?"
"Just about. I have a few tidbits between my ears."
"Is it encrypted?"
Kocian nodded.
"Microsoft encryption?"
Kocian nodded again.
"Well, see if you can remember the key while I go get my hard drive."
"You want to see this now?" Kocian asked, surprised.
"I want to copy it to my hard drive and then encrypt it with another little gift from Mr. Casey. There are a lot of people, many of them unfriendly, who know how to get around Mr. Gates's encryption technology. So far as I know, nobody's ever been able to crack the AFC encryption logarithm."