May God protect you both on your return journey! Your loving cousin, Vladlen
As Kocian handed the letter to Sandor Tor, he said, "I have no idea who either of these people are, Colonel."
"Please, Herr Kocian," Solomatin said. "I am really trying to help them; to right an injustice."
"Well," Kocian said dryly, "the Sluzhba Vneshney Razvedki does have a certain reputation for causing injustices. But this is the first I've ever heard of them trying to right any." He shook his head. "Sorry, Colonel, I can't help you."
"Herr Kocian, the last confirmed sighting of Colonel Berezovsky, his wife and daughter, and Lieutenant Colonel Svetlana Alekseeva was when they got on Lieutenant Colonel Castillo's airplane at Schwechat airfield in Vienna."
Kocian looked him in the eyes, and said, "Colonel Castillo? Someone else I never heard of."
"The colonel is sometimes still known by the name he was given at his christening, Karl Wilhelm von und zu Gossinger. Inasmuch as you stood as one of his godfathers, Herr Kocian, I find it hard to believe you've forgotten."
Kocian didn't respond.
"Herr Kocian, I swear before God and by all that's sacred to me that I am telling you the truth. And I am begging you to help me."
Kocian said nothing.
"Will you at least get the letter to Colonel Castillo?" Solomatin asked, plaintively.
After a long moment, Kocian said, "Gustav, please be good enough to escort Colonel Solomatin to his car. Give him back his passport and carnet."
"And the letter?" Gustav asked.
Kocian looked at the letter for a long moment, and then folded it and put it in his jacket pocket.
He walked toward the door to his apartment.
"Thank you, Herr Kocian. May God shower you with his blessings," Solomatin said.
Gustav motioned for him to get back on the elevator. When Gustav walked into Kocian's apartment a half hour later, the old man was sitting in a Charles Eames chair with his feet on its footstool, holding a glass of whisky. Madchen lay beside him. Max was sitting beside Tor, his head cocked as if to ask, "What the hell are you doing?"
Tor was sitting on a Louis XVI chair that looked to be of questionable strength to support his bulk. A section of a bookcase that lined that wall of Kocian's sitting room had been swung open, revealing a hidden compartment with a communications device on a custom-built shelf.
Tor had fed the communications device the letter Solomatin had given Kocian, and now took it from the device and walked to Kocian and handed it to him.
"There was no car outside," Gustav said. "I offered him a ride to wherever he wanted to go. He accepted, and said the Russian embassy. A Volkswagen with diplomatic plates got on my tail as we got off the Szabadsag hid and followed us to Baiza. What I think is there were two cars, that one and another-or at least some Russian sonofabitch with a cell phone-here. They were waiting for us at the bridge."
"And what happened at Baiza?" Kocian asked, referencing the embassy of the Russian Federation at Baiza 35, Budapest.
"He got out of the car, and walked to the gate. The gate opened for him before he got there. They expected him. When I looked in the mirror, the Volkswagen that had been on my tail was gone."
Kocian waved the letter Solomatin had given him.
"Did you get a good look at this, Gustav?"
When Gustav shook his head, Kocian handed it to him, and Gustav read it.
"Well?" Kocian said.
Gustav shook his head again.
"I don't have a clue," he said. "Except, if I have to say this, it smells."
"You don't think the SVR forgives defectors?" Tor said sarcastically.
Gustav gestured toward the communications device. "What does Herr Gossinger think?"
"There is one flaw in that miraculous device," Kocian said. "It doesn't work unless the party you're calling answers, which my godson has not yet done." He paused, pointed to the telephone on the table near him, and said, "See if you can get him on the horn, Sandor. Try the house in Pilar."
Tor rose from his fragile-looking chair, walked to the couch by the phone, sat heavily down, then from memory punched in a long number on the keypad. He held the receiver to his ear.
"What time is it in Buenos Aires?" Kocian asked.
"It's after midnight here, so a little after eight," Tor said, then added, "It's ringing," and handed the receiver to Kocian.
Kocian reached over to the table and pushed the phone base's SPEAKERPHONE button.
"?Hola?" a male voice answered.
"With whom am I speaking?" Kocian asked in passable Spanish.
"Who are you calling?"
"I'm trying to get Carlos Castillo. He doesn't seem to be answering his other telephone…"
"You have the wrong number, Senor," the man said and broke the connection.
"Sonofabitch hung up on me!" Kocian said, handing the receiver back to Tor. Tor, turning away so that Kocian would not see his smile, punched in the number again, waited for the ring, and then hit the SPEAKERPHONE button.
"?Hola?"
"My name is Eric Kocian, I need to speak to Carlos Castillo, and don't tell me I have the wrong damn number!"
"How are you, Herr Kocian?" the male voice said politely. "Sorry I didn't recognize your voice."
"I should have given you my name," Kocian said. "Paul Sieno, right?"
"Yes, sir."
"I thought I recognized your voice when you told me I had the wrong number," Kocian said. "Is Carlos handy?"
"Actually, sir, he's not."
"Where is he? Can you give me a better number?"
"I don't have one, sir."
"That's unusual, isn't it?"
"Charley's fly-fishing with his girlfriend in Patagonia, Herr Kocian."
"What did you say?"
"Charley went fishing with his girlfriend, Herr Kocian. In Patagonia. He left word not to bother him unless the sun went out."
"What if I told you this is very important, Paul? And what girlfriend would that be?"
"I can get word to him, Herr Kocian. Maybe tonight, and certainly by morning."
"And the girlfriend?"
There was a long pause, then Paul said, "Herr Kocian, if you don't know about Sweaty, I'm sorry, but you're not going to hear it from me."
"Are you telling me he's drunk and off in the woods with some floozy? Some floozy named Sweaty? That's what you said her name is, right? Sweaty?"
"Well, I can tell you he's probably not drunk, because Sweaty doesn't like him to drink too much. And that I can get word to him to call you, probably tonight, and certainly by morning. Your AFC's working, right?"
"As a matter of fact, Paul, my miraculous AFC communications device is not working at all. The reason I called on the telephone is because nobody we tried to call on it to find Carlos answered."
"Sir, we're not on twenty-four/seven anymore. Just once in the morning-oh-four-twenty-hundred Zulu time-and again in the afternoon at sixteen-twenty Zulu. I'm surprised no one told you."
"By Zulu, you mean Greenwich?"
"Yes, sir."
"Your AFC is working?"
"Yes, sir. I can have it up in a minute."
"There's a document I want Carlos to see. I want to send it in the highest encryption possible."
"Yes, sir, give me a minute to turn on my AFC."
"You can get it to him?"
"In the morning, maybe even tonight."
"I want you and Mrs. Sieno to have a look at it, to see if you can make more sense from it than I can. And tell Carlos what you think."
"Yes, sir."
"It's not addressed to Carlos, Paul. It's addressed to someone else. I don't want that party to see it until after Carlos does."
"This sounds important, Herr Kocian."
"I don't know. It may well be. Is Herr Delchamps available?"
"He's here, but he went out for dinner."
"Show this document to him, too, please, with the same caveat that I don't want the addressee to see it until Carlos has."
"Got it," Sieno said. And then, "There goes the AFC, Mr. Kocian. It shows you as online. I'm ready to receive. Send the message." "It came through fine, Herr Kocian," Paul Sieno said over the encrypted AFC not quite two minutes later. "What the hell is it all about?"