Not quite a minute later, he heard the rear door opening.
"Don't turn around," Munz said. "Just get out of here. Turn left when you do. If there is no traffic at the next left, take that and get back onto the Panamericana. If there is traffic, don't make the left. Check to see if anyone's following."
There was a long line of cars and trucks inching along the street to the left, so Castillo continued straight. He looked into the outside mirrors to get a make on the cars immediately behind him and then adjusted the interior rearview mirror to see the backseat. He couldn't see Munz.
Which means he's lying on the floor.
"There's a green Peugeot, a Volkswagen bug, and Fiat Uno behind us."
"Try to lose them," Munz ordered.
Castillo made an abrupt right turn and accelerated. Fifty yards later, he hit a speed bump.
He heard Munz groan.
Jesus, he must be lying on his wounded shoulder. That must have really hurt.
"Sorry, Alfredo," Castillo called.
"Anybody behind you?"
"No."
"Then slow down a little and keep weaving through the streets. You might as well head for Libertador."
"Who's following us?"
"I wish to hell I knew," Munz said. "When you get to Libertador, turn toward the city. Look for a COTO supermarket on the left. Pull into the parking lot behind it." As Castillo parked the Cherokee, he saw that the only people in the parking lot were women loading plastic bags of groceries into their cars.
"Nobody followed us," Castillo said. "And there's nobody close in the parking lot. You want to come up front?"
Castillo heard Munz sigh, then the sound of the rear door opening. A moment later, he slipped into the front seat.
"So how are you, Alfredo?" Castillo asked, in German.
"Until you got that speed bump, Karl, I was feeling all right."
"I'm sorry about that."
Munz made a deprecating gesture.
"Who are we running from?" Castillo asked. "And why?"
"People are watching me," Munz said, seriously, and then, when he heard himself, chuckled and added, "'They probably want to beam me up to their spaceship and extract my sperm,' said the paranoid."
Castillo chuckled. "Who?"
"I don't know. What I do know is the morning after you went to the States-I slept all of the day you left and right through the night, thanks to those little yellow pills Sergeant Kensington gave me-when I went onto my balcony, there was a car, a Citroen, with two men in it, parked across the street. There was a pair of binoculars on the dashboard. And there have been other cars, other people, ever since."
"But you don't know who?"
"No, and I wasn't-still am not-in any condition to ask people questions."
"Did you tell Pevsner?"
Munz shook his head.
"Why not?"
Castillo sensed that Munz was making up his mind whether to reply at all.
"Now that I'm no longer the head of SIDE, I'm not as much use to Senor Pevsner as I was," he said, finally. "Perhaps he's decided I'm now a liability. If I wasn't around, there are all sorts of questions that I would not be able to answer about him."
Castillo considered his own reply carefully before making it. "Unfortunately, Alfredo, that's a real possibility."
Munz nodded.
"I didn't ask about your shoulder," Castillo said.
"And I didn't ask what you're doing back here in Argentina."
"Why didn't you?"
"Because I wasn't at all sure you would tell me. The truth, that is. So why bother?"
"Write this down, Alfredo. I'm one of the good guys."
"You very well may be," Munz said. "But I don't know that, do I?"
"Tell me about your shoulder."
"Two days ago-my wife insisted-I went to Dr. Rommine's apartment. You remember him?"
"From the German Hospital?"
Munz nodded. "He's a friend. He owes me a couple of favors. He didn't believe me when I told him I'd had an accident cleaning my pistol."
"Why not?"
"He said, 'Well, whatever physician removed the bullet did a first-class job. He must be a foreigner or you weren't in Argentina when you shot yourself. Those degradable sutures aren't available here.'"
"You didn't tell him what happened?"
Munz shook his head.
"He knows better than to ask. He really doesn't want to know."
"I'm sorry you took that bullet, Alfredo."
"I was hoping by now you would have learned who those bastards were," Munz said, "and would be willing to tell me."
"I've got some suspicions, but I just don't know."
"If I have to say this, I can take care of myself. It's my family I'm worried about."
And that's a bona fide worry, after what these bastards did with Mr. Masterson.
"How much can you tell me about the money?" Munz asked.
"What money?"
"Howard Kennedy said there was a lot of money in Lorimer's safe," Munz said.
"He asked you about the money?" Castillo asked, incredulously.
Munz nodded.
"I realize, Karl, that there are things you can't tell me," Munz said.
"Did Kennedy say how much money?"
"No. But I had the feeling there was a lot. What did you do, find it after I was hit?"
When Castillo didn't immediately reply, Munz said, "I just finished saying I understand there are things you can't tell me. But I'm desperate, Karl. This now involves my family."
"I'll tell you what I can do, Alfredo. I can take you and your family to the States, where you'll all be safe, until I find out who these bastards are and deal with them."
"That's a nice thought, but I don't have the money for airplane tickets, much less to support my family in the States."
"The Lorimer Charitable and Benevolent Fund will take care of that," Castillo said.
"The what?"
"There was a lot of money-in sort-of cashier's checks-in Lorimer's safe, Alfredo. Almost sixteen million dollars. I'd like to know how Kennedy knew about it. Anyway, we took it. It's out of the country. I control it. I call it the Lorimer Charitable and Benevolent Fund. You and your family will have all the money you need in the States for as long as you need it."
"Can you do that? Why would you?"
"You took a bullet for us. We owe you."
"I knew what I was doing when I went with you."
"We owe you," Castillo said, flatly. "You've got your passports?"
Munz nodded. "But not visas. Could you arrange visas?"
"Not a problem."
I'll get you visas if I have to go to the President.
"I'm not going," Munz said.
"Don't be a fool, Alfredo."
"I accept, with profound gratitude, Karl, your offer for my wife and daughters. But I'm not going to let these bastards chase me out of Argentina."
Castillo looked at him but said nothing.
"Maybe I can be of some small use to you, Karl," Munz said, "in finding these people."
"You can be of a lot of use to me, if you're willing. And understand what you're getting into."
"Whatever you ask of me," Munz said.
Castillo reached for the ignition key and started the engine.
"Where are we going?" Munz asked.
"To an apartment in Belgrano," Castillo said. "In the U.S. Army, mi coronel, this is known as getting the fucking circus off its ass and onto the road." Before he left the parking lot, when he was still waiting for a break in the traffic on Avenida Libertador, Castillo had second thoughts.
Jesus, what am I going to do with Munz at that apartment?
There's already too many people there and more are coming.
You're not thinking clearly, Carlos.
That your ass is dragging, for understandable reasons, is an explanation, not an excuse.
He looked out the back window of the Cherokee, then shifted into reverse and quickly backed the truck into an open space.
"Was ist los, Karl?" Munz asked, concerned.
"I need to think a minute, Alfredo," Castillo said. "Believe it or not, there are people who think I don't do nearly enough of that."