"And a half dozen other languages," Castillo offered. "Alek Pevsner."
"The Russian arms dealer, mafioso?" Ken Lowery asked. "Jesus, I saw a new Interpol warrant for him-smuggling, I think-just a couple of days ago. He's involved in this?"
I saw that Interpol warrant, too, Artigas thought. And a dozen others on him. That guy's a real badass. And he's Castillo's friend?
Castillo nodded. "The question is, how is he involved?"
"He's here? In Argentina?" Yung asked.
"I am going to say as little about Pevsner as I can," Castillo said. "As a matter of fact, from this moment on he is code-named 'Putin' and all references to him will be by his code name. Clear?"
There were nods and yes sirs.
"What about Putin's friend, Colonel?" Yung asked. "My ex-friend? Do we need a code name for him?"
"I think we do," Castillo said. "How does 'Schmidt' strike you?"
Artigas's eyebrows rose at hearing the name of the director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
"Now that I've burned my bureau bridges," Yung said, "that's fine with me."
Artigas wondered: Now, what the hell does that mean?
"Okay. Kennedy is now Schmidt," Castillo said.
There's an FBI back-channel locate-report-but-do-not-detain out on a former agent named Howard Kennedy, Artigas thought, then said so aloud, adding, "Did you know that?"
"I suspected it," Castillo said.
"Same guy?"
Castillo nodded.
"You used to work with him, right, Yung?" Artigas asked.
Yung nodded uncomfortably.
"Dave, when did you decide your bureau bridges were burned?" Castillo asked.
"Couple of days ago," Yung said. "I'm still not sure if I burned them or you burned them for me, but when I looked they were gloriously aflame."
"How do you feel about that?"
"The question is, how do you feel about it?"
"I'm glad to have you, if that's what you're asking."
"Then I feel fine about it, Colonel," Yung said.
If he's not high on painkillers, or anything else, what the hell happened to make him change his mind?
Castillo gave him a double thumbs-up gesture.
"Okay," Santini said. "Alfredo thinks it's likely that some of the people after him are Putin's guys. I think we have to accept that. I think we have to presume that the Ninjas are on him, too. And he thinks SIDE may also be on him."
"Let's talk about that," Castillo said. "Why do you think SIDE is surveilling you, Alfredo?"
"What the Argentine government wants to do is forget-have everyone forget-what happened to Mr. Masterson," Munz replied. "And they've heard what happened in Uruguay and don't want to be surprised by any developments in the matter. They don't know what my relationship with Ale…Putin really was or is. Officially, I was keeping an eye on Putin for SIDE."
"They know he's here, Colonel?" Ambassador Silvio said.
"I found him," Munz said, simply.
"Then why didn't they act on one or more of the Interpol warrants out on him? Do you know?"
Munz answered that with the gesture of rubbing the thumb and index finger of his right hand together.
"All I was told was to keep him under surveillance," he said. "And that a decision about what to do with him would come later."
"Is there a chance he will be arrested?" Silvio asked.
Munz shook his head and said, "If he has been as generous as I suspect he has, if the decision to act on one or more of the Interpol warrants is made, he'll be given sufficient warning before the order to go arrest him is given." He paused and looked at Castillo. "But to answer your question, Karl, they're watching me so they won't be surprised by anything that might happen."
"Okay. Makes sense," Castillo said, thought a long moment, then asked, "If somebody tried to grab you or whack you-or your family-and SIDE was watching, what would happen?"
"That's what worries me, Karl," Munz said. "I'd like to think that SIDE was told to protect me-us-and that I left enough friends behind in SIDE, many of whom know my family, so they would protect us, orders or not. But that may not be the case. That's why I'm so grateful for your offer to get them out of here."
"With that-and SIDE-in mind, Charley," Santini said, "SIDE runs a computer scan of people passing through immigration."
"How hard would it be to smuggle them into Uruguay?" Castillo asked. "If that's possible, we could pick them up at Carrasco with the Gulfstream. I don't think SIDE is scanning Uruguayan immigration, are they, Alfredo?"
Artigas thought: Gulfstream? Jesus Christ, has he got his own airplane?
"We have…excuse me, SIDE has," Munz corrected himself, as he no longer was chief of SIDE, "an arrangement where Uruguayan immigration checks a list of names SIDE gives them against people coming in or out and lets SIDE know if anybody shows up. I don't think my name is on that list."
"I don't know if it's smuggling or not, Colonel," Artigas said, "but they wouldn't have to go through immigration to get to Uruguay. All they need is their National Identity Card to get on an airplane or the Buquebus ferry. They don't take names."
"He's right, Charley," Santini said.
"The Buquebus would be better," Munz said.
"Okay, we'll do that," Castillo said. "First we get their passports stamped, very quietly, with a…"
"…five-year, multivisit visa," Ambassador Silvio furnished. "You get me the passports, Colonel Munz, and I'll take care of that."
"Thank you," Munz said.
"First we get them visas and then on the Buquebus," Castillo said. "Then what?"
"I've got to go back to Uruguay," Yung said. "And so, come to think of it, does Artigas, so he can look very surprised when McGrory tells him he's been transferred over here. One or both of us could go on the Buquebus with them."
"Why do you have to go back to Uruguay?" Castillo asked.
"I've got to get Lorimer and his casket from the undertakers and out to the airport."
"Jesus, I forgot all about him," Castillo said, then heard what he had said and smiled and shook his head. "Mr. Ambassador, there's another example that I'm playing with far fewer than fifty-two cards in my deck."
Silvio said, "That's only proof, Colonel, that you forgot the details of the repatriation of Mr. Lorimer's remains."
Castillo raised an eyebrow, then turned to Yung. "Tell me about those, Dave," he said.
"The casket will go on American Airlines flight 6002 at five after nine tomorrow night. It could have gone tonight, but the body wasn't ready."
"'The body wasn't ready'?" Castillo parroted.
"I was afraid the bastard's father might insist on opening the casket. When I saw the body in the English hospital, it looked awful. So I took some clothes from the estancia and told the undertaker to dress him, and to do a better job of sewing him up than the hospital did after the autopsy."
"That was a very nice thing for you to do, Mr. Yung," Ambassador Silvio said.
"And it would have been even nicer if you hadn't called the deceased 'the bastard,'" Castillo said.
Yung looked at him, ignored the comment, and continued: "The airplane stops at Ezeiza, then goes to Miami. Then the casket'll be transferred to an American Airlines flight…I've got the number somewhere if that detail's important…to New Orleans."
"And you have to go with it," Castillo said.
"I wanted to talk to you about that," Yung said. "I'd much rather stay here."
Jesus Christ, Castillo thought, he's really done a one-eighty!
"If you're not on that airplane with the body," Castillo said, "Ambassador McGrory-and others-are going to suspect you didn't come down here to repatriate the remains. So you will be on it."
"Yes, sir."
He's really disappointed.
"And you will stay through the funeral. There's no telling who might show up for that." He paused, then looked at Santini. "Tony, could we get the Secret Service to make the plates of the cars at that funeral? Maybe the people themselves?"
"Not a problem. Who are we looking for?" Santini said.