"I wouldn't be surprised if they did, but they don't have anything tying me to the oil-for-food business because I wasn't involved in that."
"So you keep telling me," Castillo said. "Right now, Alek, you don't have to worry about what the CIA has or doesn't have on you. Right now, we're friends, and the President has called off the CIA and FBI investigations of you. What you have to worry about is your other friends going after Kocian again. If that happens, the deal is off. Not only will I give Kocian's files to every American intelligence agency, I'll spread them around to anyone and everyone who might be the slightest bit interested."
"I thought you said Kocian's files were already in Washington."
Castillo nodded. "They are. But I haven't shared them with anybody. Yet."
Pevsner looked into his eyes again and again said nothing.
Castillo stared him down and then asked, "Did I mention, Alek, that if there is another attempt to get at Kocian, I will take that personally?"
"You did. But I wonder if you really understand who these people are. Don't take offense, Charley, but you're only a major. Could it be that your understandable affection for this man Kocian has clouded your judgment to the point where you think you're more important than you really are? Can do things you really can't do?"
"Actually, I'm a lieutenant colonel now," Castillo said.
"All right, a lieutenant colonel," Pevsner said, impatiently. "You take my point."
"Don't underestimate lieutenant colonels. That's all that Mr. Putin was in the KGB. Putin's name, incidentally, is in Kocian's files, too, and there are no question marks after it."
"You're not actually thinking of going after Putin, are you?"
"I'm just a simple soldier, Alek, who will do his best to follow his orders, wherever that leads me."
"'Simple soldier'?" Pevsner parroted and chuckled. "And what exactly are your orders, Colonel Castillo?"
"To locate and render harmless the people responsible for the murder of Masterson."
"'Render harmless'?"
"The way the ex-Stasi, or ex-Allamvedelmi Hatosag in Budapest, whichever they were, were rendered harmless."
"You're not suggesting, are you, that if these people lose interest in your uncle Billy, you'll lose interest in them?"
"Absolutely not. I just want you to tell them there's no longer a reason to kill Eric Kocian."
"From all you've been telling me about these people, they are not very nice people, Charley. They may well decide that rendering harmless someone who has been too interested in what they've been doing might discourage others from looking under other rocks."
"In your own interests, Alek, I'd try very hard to convince them that would not be wise."
"And they may well come after you."
"They already have," Castillo said. "And nothing would give me greater pleasure than if they tried it again. The next time, I'll take prisoners. I know some people who are very good in teaching people how to sing."
"And, of course, this is all hypothetical. I have no idea who you're talking about."
Castillo laughed.
"Alek, you're one of a kind!" he said. "You said that with an absolutely straight face."
"There aren't very many people, my friend Charley, who would be so brave, or stupid, to mock me," Pevsner said and tried to stare Castillo down again and failed again.
"I wasn't mocking you, Alek. I said that with admiration. You would be one hell of a poker player."
Pevsner smiled. "Actually, I'm a rather good poker player. We must find the time to play sometime."
"I'd like that," Castillo said.
"Well, Charley," Pevsner said. "This has been an interesting conversation, and it's always a pleasure to see you, but I have a golf date…"
"Thank you for the kleines Fruhstuck," Castillo said. On the way back to Buenos Aires, Castillo-who looked carefully-couldn't find anyone following him. Nevertheless, he twice left the Autopista and drove around crowded neighborhood streets before getting back on the Autopista.
If anybody can trail me though all that, he's a genius.
Which is not the same as saying no one has. [SIX] The Restaurant Kansas Avenida Libertador San Isidro Buenos Aires Province, Argentina 1305 8 August 2005 When he pulled into the parking lot, Castillo saw that despite the some what chilly weather there were a few people sitting under umbrellas in the patio outside the bar and he went there and took a table.
A strikingly good-looking waitress almost immediately appeared and he ordered a Warsteiner beer and a club sandwich, although after the pancakes he'd had at Pevsner's house he wasn't very hungry.
He took a cellular phone from his briefcase and tried to turn it on. The panel didn't light up.
Dammit! The battery's dead!
What did you expect, Inspector Clouseau? That you could just throw the phone-with a probably mostly exhausted battery-into your briefcase and then expect it to work when you want to use it a week later?
And what's going to happen if I find someplace that has a charger that will fit? When the battery is completely dead, does that wipe out the memory?
I have no damned idea at all where I can get Munz's cellular number-or, for that matter, Darby's or Santini's or anyone else's-if I can't get them off this cellular!
There was a pleasant chirp from the cellular. The cellular's panel lit up. A smiling cartoon face appeared, as did the greeting,?HOLA!
It works!
Castillo said, aloud, "?Hola, hola, hola!" and then punched an autodial number.
El Coronel Alfredo Munz answered on the second ring.
"Munz."
"How's your arm?" Castillo asked, in German.
There was a just-perceptible hesitation before Munz asked, "Same cellular number?"
"Yes."
"I'll call you," Munz said and the connection was broken.
Castillo took the phone from his ear and pushed the CALL END button. Something was really bothering Munz. It showed in his voice and what he said. If he was unwilling to speak on his cellular, that meant he suspected someone was listening to his calls.
Well, I'll find out what it is.
He pushed another autodial button and Darby answered on the second ring.
"?Hola?"
"Do they sell pancake flour in that embassy store?" Castillo asked.
There was a moment's hesitation and then Darby replied, "Yeah, I know they do."
"Send Ricardo Solez to get me five pounds of it," Castillo ordered. "And have him get me a charger for my cellular. It's a Motorola, model number…"
"I know what it is; it belongs to me."
"I'll explain later," Castillo said. "Is there another black car available?"
"Yes, there is."
"Maybe he could pick that up at the same time."
"You're not going to tell me what's going on?"
"When I see you. I'm expecting another call, Alex. Have to break this off." The cellular buzzed just as the beer and club sandwich were delivered.
"?Hola?"
"Where are you?" Munz asked.
"Kansas, in San Isidro."
"Are you alone? Driving?"
"I'm alone. I've got a Cherokee registered in Mar del Plata."
"Do you know where Unicenter is, on the Panamericana?"
Unicenter is the largest shopping mall in South America.
"Yeah."
"You approach it from the Panamericana and it's on your left, and when you turn in there are two garages, one for Jumbo, the other for Unicenter. Go into the Jumbo garage and park nose out close to the exit. Make sure your doors aren't locked. Fifteen minutes."
The cellular went dead.
What the hell is going on?
Castillo got up from the table, found the good-looking waitress, and handed her money.
"That was my wife," he said with a smile. "I was supposed to pick her up fifteen minutes ago." There was a good deal of traffic and Castillo had a little trouble finding Unicenter. It was twenty minutes before he pulled into the huge Jumbo Supermer-cado's parking lot.
He drove slowly through it, looking for Munz. When he couldn't find him, he backed the Cherokee into a slot as close to the exit as he could find, then turned off the ignition and checked to see the doors were unlocked.