To assist him in this task, in addition to the two ex-Spetsnaz operators, Uncle Remus had Mr. Vic D'Allessando, former Gunnery Sergeant Lester Bradley, and Lieutenant "Peg-Leg" Lorimer (Retired). Former Special Forces Sergeant Aloysius F. Casey and Generals Naylor and McNab were to be the reserve force.
General McNab had voiced no objection to this, but everyone knew if there was shooting, McNab would be in the middle of it.
Lieutenant Colonel (Designate) Naylor-having been told that he would be useless on the actual assault due to the fact that he (a) was a tank driver, (b) had no Special Operations training, and (c) spoke no Russian-first pleaded to be taken along. Then, when his pleas fell on deaf ears, he said very unkind things to Colonel Castillo.
Colonel Castillo forgave the outburst, kissed him on the forehead, and charged him with sitting-literally, if that became necessary-on the deputy director of the CIA, Mr. Lammelle.
All of those remaining at Drug Cartel International had come to see-if very reluctantly-that there was no valid argument against Castillo's logic in making the assignments. The more the operation was polished, the more it became apparent how much success would depend upon Dmitri Berezovsky's ability to dazzle-or at least substantially confuse-General Sirinov's Spetsnaz until they had a pistol up the general's nose.
Castillo didn't plan to open his mouth, but if he had to, his Russian was so fluent that people thought he came from Saint Petersburg. None of those being left to hold the fort spoke the language so well. And although Uncle Remus's Russian was nearly as good as Castillo's, there were very few Russians as black as God had made Uncle Remus.
Colonel Jake Torine's Russian was very limited, but he could read the lettering they would find on the instrument panel of the Tu-934A. Navigation of the airplane would be by the Casey GPS system installed on their laptops.
Max, as he was wont to do, suspected his master intended to leave him behind. So, when Castillo, Sweaty, Dmitri, and Roscoe J. Danton got into the Cessna Mustang for the flight to Cozumel, they found Max already lying in the aisle looking at Castillo with melancholy eyes that melted his master's heart.
What the hell! When we leave Cozumel, I'll chain him to the seat. Sparkman will be flying this back. He and Sweaty can deal with him; he likes them.
That did not come to pass.
When the Policia Federal Preventiva UH-60 had been refueled at Cozumel, and after Castillo had spent an hour explaining the cockpit specifically and the aircraft generally to Colonel Torine, he had climbed out to see how the loading of the Spetsnaz was going.
He found that everybody had changed into their combat uniforms, which were in fact commercially available summer-weight camouflage-pattern hunting jackets and trousers. They and the khaki trousers/yellow polo shirts everyone wore at Laguna el Guaje had been purchased at three Walmarts in Mexico City, Distrito Federal, by Peg-Leg Lorimer, who had charged them to his LCBF Corporation American Express card.
Peg-Leg reported, on his return from his shopping trip, that his purchases had just about wiped out the stocks in all three Walmart stores.
"When that information is sent by the Walmart computers to Walmart headquarters in Bentonville, Arkansas," Peg-Leg said, "the company will rush to replace the deleted stocks. This in turn will result in a gross overstock of khaki trousers, yellow polo shirts, and summer-weight camouflage-pattern hunting clothes in Mexico City. Walmart executives will be baffled.
"But I strongly suspect that Ol' Jack Walton," Peg-Leg concluded, "will be smiling down at us from that Great Watering Hole in the Sky, pleased that we outfitted this operation from his daddy's store."
John Walton-son of the founder of Walmart, and at his death the eleventh-richest man in the world-had earlier in his life been awarded the nation's third highest award for valor, the Silver Star, while a Special Forces sergeant in Vietnam. Among those donning their Walmart combat uniforms was former Lieutenant Colonel Svetlana Alekseeva of the SVR, who was rolling up the sleeves of hers when Castillo came around the nose of the Black Hawk. Max was lying on the floor of the Black Hawk's cabin, watching with his head between his legs.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Castillo demanded.
"Carlos, I don't like it when you use that tone to me."
"You and Max are going back to the lake on the Mustang!"
She pointed at the runway. Castillo looked. The Mustang was beginning its takeoff roll.
"Well, Svet, you got that past me. But now you can wait here. You're not going."
"Of course I'm going. Wherever did you get this idea I wasn't?"
"Honey, for Christ's sake, we don't know what's going to happen at La Orchila. People are likely to get hurt."
"Did you ever think, Generalissimo Carlitos," she snapped, "you poor man's von Clausewitz, what would happen if one of Sirinov's Spetsnaz takes Dmitri out the moment we land? When you speak Russian, you sound like a Saint Petersburg poet." She wet her finger and ran it over her eyebrow, the gesture's meaning unmistakable. "You'd make the Spetsnaz giggle. I was a podpolkovnik of the SVR and I sound like one. I know how to deal with Spetsnaz and I'm going!"
After a moment's reflection, Castillo asked, "And Max? You want to take him too, I suppose, Podpolkovnik Alekseeva?"
"Absolutely! You get Max to show his teeth to Yakov Sirinov the way you did to Lammelle and he'll wet his pants. I may not even have to hurt him."
Castillo considered that a moment, and then asked, "Have you got a weapon?"
"Of course I've got a weapon," she snapped, still angry. "I've always got a weapon. You should know that. You've been looking up my dress from the day we met."
Castillo had an immediate, very clear mental image of that day.
Svetlana's skirt had risen high as she nimbly jumped from the tracks of Vienna's Sudbahnhof onto the platform, revealing that she was wearing red lace underpants with a small pistol-he later learned it was a Colt 1908 Pocket Model.32 ACP-holstered on her inner thigh just under them.
Roscoe J. Danton walked up.
"Not to worry, Charley," he said. "I understand Colonel Alekseeva was speaking off the record."
"Roscoe, sometimes he makes me very, very angry," Sweaty said.
Jake Torine walked up.
"I didn't hear that either," Torine said, and then went on: "It's about time for us to get going, Charley." [FOUR] The USS Bataan (LHD 5) North Latitude 14.89, West Longitude 77.86 The Caribbean Sea 1255 12 February 2007 Almost as soon as he spotted the Bataan, Castillo saw that four black 160th SOAR UH-60M helicopters were already sitting on her deck, their rotors folded.
"I think I should tell you, First Officer, that the Bataan has a very impressive array of weaponry-including four forty-millimeter Gatling guns-with which to discourage strange and possibly hostile aircraft from approaching."
Torine gave him the finger and activated his microphone.
"Bataan, this is Keystone Kop."
"Keystone Kop, Bataan, be advised we have you in sight. Go ahead."
Castillo said, "What he meant to say, First Officer, was 'gun-sights.'"
"Well, Bataan," Torine spoke into the microphone, "if you have us in sight, then I guess I don't have to tell you I estimate we are at one thousand feet about two klicks off your stern. Request permission to land."
"Keystone Kop, are you carrier-qualified?"
Torine looked at Castillo.
"Lie, Jake. We don't have enough fuel to go back to Cozumel."
"Affirmative, we are carrier-qualified."
"Keystone Kop, be advised that Bataan is headed into the wind. The wind down the deck is at twenty knots. Acknowledge."
"Bataan, Keystone Kop understands wind down the deck is at twenty, and Bataan is headed into the wind."
"Keystone Kop, you are cleared to land. Be advised a rescue helicopter is to port."
"I think he knows we were lying," Torine said. "You really have never done this before?"
"Only as a passenger," Castillo said. "And what I think the pilot told me that day was that if the wind across the deck is at, say, twenty knots, and you're indicating twenty knots, that means you're in a hover over the deck, which, relatively speaking, has an air speed of zero."