"Isn't that Lieutenant Colonel (Designate) Naylor, General?" D'Allessando asked.
"Yes, it is."
"Thank you, sir," D'Allessando said. "Okay, we're headed for the business side of Cancun International. An airplane will be waiting for us. What I would like to suggest to anyone watching is that one of our number has been at the sauce and needs help to board the airplane. Now, will your parole permit you to help me do that?"
"I'll carry the sonofabitch aboard myself," Allan Junior said. [SIX] Laguna el Guaje Coahuila, Mexico 1105 11 February 2007 Looking with frank fascination out the window of the Cessna Mustang as it was towed under what looked like an enormous tarpaulin, General Allan Naylor saw a number of very interesting things.
There were four aircraft already in the cave/hangar/whatever it was: One of them he recognized as what he thought of as "Dona Alicia's Lear." There were two Gulfstreams, a III and a V. He presumed the III was Castillo's airplane, the one in which he and Dick Miller and the others had flown away from their retirement parade at Fort Rucker. He had no idea who the Gulfstream V belonged to.
And there was a Black Hawk helicopter, with its insignia and a legend painted on the fuselage identifying it as belonging to the Mexican Policia Federal Preventiva. Naylor knew the U.S. government had "sold" a dozen of them to Mexico to assist in the war against drugs. He had smarted at the time-and smarted again now-at the price the Mexicans had paid for them, which came to about a tenth of what the Army had paid for them. And he naturally wondered what a Policia Federal helicopter was doing here.
But what he found most fascinating was Lieutenant Colonel C. G. Castillo, who was standing with another man, a woman, and Castillo's dog, Max, watching the aircraft come into the cave. The humans were dressed identically in yellow polo shirts and khaki trousers.
Now that I think about it, just about everybody in the cave is wearing yellow polo shirts and khaki trousers. Is there something significant in that?
The woman-who was wearing an enormous gaudily decorated sombrero that looked like it belonged on the head of a trumpet player in a mariachi band-was leaning her shoulder against Castillo's and holding his hand.
And the other guy-he looks like her, and they're brother and sister-has to be Berezovsky.
What I am looking at is former Colonel Dmitri Berezovsky of the SVR, the Russian Service for the Protection of the Constitutional System; and former Lieutenant Colonel Svetlana Alekseeva, also of the Sluzhba Vneshney Razvedki.
McNab was right-she is built like a brick… outdoor sanitary facility.
"Hey, Dick," Lieutenant Colonel (Designate) Naylor called to the Mustang pilot, Major H. Richard Miller, Jr. (U.S. Army, Retired), whom he had known since his plebe year at the U.S. Military Academy. "Is that Charley's Russian spy holding his hand?"
"That's her. We call her 'Sweaty.' She calls him 'my Carlos.'"
"Nice," Lieutenant Colonel (Designate) Naylor said. "Very nice. Maybe thirteen on a scale of one to ten."
"She's okay, Allan," Miller said. "But don't let her looks dazzle you. Sweaty's's one tough little cookie."
"Here comes General McNab," Colonel Brewer said.
General McNab, when he climbed aboard the Mustang, was also wearing a yellow polo shirt and khaki trousers.
"General Naylor, welcome to Drug Cartel International Airfield," McNab said, and then, raising his voice, asked, "Everything under control, Vic?"
"I had to-hold that. With great pleasure, I darted Lammelle. He's about to come out of it. Got a place to put him on ice?"
"Just the place. I'll put him in with Roscoe J. Danton. Then when Frank wakes up, he'll have someone to talk to."
Naylor thought: Roscoe J. Danton? Is he talking about the reporter from the Times-Post?
I will be damned if I'll give him the satisfaction of asking.
McNab backed down the stair doors and said something in Russian. A moment later two burly blond men came onto the airplane.
"Over there," D'Allessando said in Russian. "Be careful, he's dangerous."
Forty-five seconds later, the deputy director of the Central Intelligence Agency was off the airplane and, slung in a fireman's carry over the shoulder of one of the burly men, was being carried toward a stainless-steel elevator door set in the rock wall.
McNab appeared again at the stair door opening.
"General," D'Allessando said, "General Naylor has given me his parole, which also covers Colonel Brewer and Lieutenant Colonel (Designate) Naylor."
"Wonderful! If we had to chain him, it would have been hard to get him down the stairs. Anytime it's convenient, General, you may disembark."
Castillo and the Russians were at the foot of the stair door when Naylor came down it. He noticed that Charley and the woman were still-or again-holding hands.
Castillo waited until Colonel Brewer, Allan Junior, and Vic D'Allessando had come down the stairs.
"At the risk of being rude, and with great respect, General Naylor, if you have something to say to me, let's get it out of the way," Castillo said.
"Colonel, I have been ordered by the President of the United States to place you under arrest. Mr. Lammelle was ordered by the President to take possession of the two Russian defectors you are believed to hold. You will, therefore, consider yourself under arrest, and when Mr. Lammelle is capable of receiving them, you will turn them over to him."
"Sir, again with great respect, that's just not going to happen. Will you explain to me, please, what your understanding of the parole you have given Mr. D'Allessando is?"
"Colonel, as I understand the Code of Honor, I have waived my right to attempt to escape or take any hostile action against my captors until after I inform you that I am withdrawing my parole. My parole covers both Colonel Brewer, whom I don't believe you know, and Lieutenant Colonel (Designate) Naylor."
"Thank you, sir. Gentlemen, may I present Dmitri Berezovsky, formerly colonel of the SVR, and Lieutenant Colonel Svetlana Alekseeva, also formerly of the SVR. They are here of their own volition, not as my prisoners. Having said that, I am responsible for their being here, and consider them to be under my protection."
"I see the way you're hanging onto her, Charley," Allan Junior said. "I wondered what that was all about."
General McNab laughed. General Naylor glared at him.
"This is very difficult for my Carlos," Sweaty flared. "You will not mock him!"
"Colonel Sweaty, I wouldn't think of it!" Allan Junior said.
"Only my friends can call me Sweaty," she replied evenly.
"Right now, Colonel Sweaty, getting to be your friend is right at the top of my list of things to do. Let me begin by saying I love your sombrero and that adorable puppy."
Berezovsky, having wordlessly shaken hands with General Naylor and Colonel Brewer, now offered his hand to Allan Junior.
"Be careful, Colonel," Berezovsky said. "Her bite is twice as bad as her bark."
"I'm not a lieutenant colonel yet. Just picked to be one. I'm glad to meet you."
"If our official business is over for the moment, General Naylor?" Castillo said.
"I have nothing further to say to you officially, Colonel."
"In that case, Uncle Allan, I'm damned glad to see you, even in these circumstances."
"Me, too, Charley," Naylor said, and after an awkward fifteen seconds, they embraced.
"Lunch is being prepared," Sweaty said. "The beef, compared to Argentina, is unbelievably bad."
"Do we have to do anything for Lammelle, Vic?" Castillo asked.
"Castration with a dull knife might be a good idea, but if you're asking because of the dart, no." He looked at his watch. "He should be coming out of it in the next ten minutes or so. I'd love to be there when he wakes up and finds those two Russians sitting on him. He'll think he's been shipped off to Moscow. What are they, Charley? Spetsnaz?"
"Ex."