"I don't know who the hell Milton is."
"Trust me, Ace," Delchamps said sarcastically. "Milton Weiss is not a member of the drug mafia."
Castillo almost said, So what? but stopped. Instead, he asked, "Why?"
"Before you begin to apply damage control, Ace, it is convenient to know the extent of the damage."
Castillo looked at Delchamps but didn't say anything.
"Trust me, Charley," Delchamps said, this time very seriously.
If I don't go along with him now, he's entirely capable of telling me to go fuck myself, get up, and walk out of here and the OOA.
And I can't afford to lose him.
"Lorimer says," Castillo began, "and I think he's right, that they have Timmons in the sticks-on an estancia of some kind-in either Paraguay or across the river in Argentina. Not far from Asuncion, in other words. Someplace we can't easily-if at all-get to on the ground without being spotted.
"So the problem is, one, to find out where he is, and, two, to stage an operation to get him back.
"One, I hope, isn't going to be much of a problem. A very competent agency guy is already in Asuncion-"
"You mean the station chief?" Weiss interrupted.
"No, I mean a guy who works for me. The station chief in Asuncion is apparently…intellectually challenged. The guy I'm talking about knows his business."
Weiss nodded.
Castillo went on, "My guy is there-the phrase he used was 'To make sure the cork is back in the bottle'-because a very bright young DIA guy in Asuncion pretty much figured out another operation we ran down there, and my guy went to Asuncion on his own, to make sure nobody else in the embassy talks too much. My guy-"
"Milton and Alex Darby are old pals, Charley," Delchamps said.
Weiss nodded, and there was the hint of a smile on his lips.
Is he laughing at me?
"Darby will learn in about nine hours, maybe ten, about this new mission."
"How?" Weiss asked softly.
"From a…"
Oh, to hell with it!
"From a man named Munz, who used to run SIDE and who now works for me-"
"Good man, Milt," Delchamps said softly.
"-and is now on his way to Asuncion on our airplane. The airplane is also carrying radios-ours, with some incredible capabilities-"
"The ones you get from AFC?" Weiss asked.
Did this guy already know about the radios?
Or did Delchamps tell him?
Castillo nodded. "Which, with a little bit of luck, they'll be able to get into Paraguay. And with a little more luck, Munz and Darby will be able to get up and running.
"The fallback plan there is that if they can't smuggle the radios into Paraguay, Munz will arrange to see that we can get them into Argentina, and from there into Paraguay. And one of my sergeants-who can get the radio, radios, up and running-will be on the first plane to Asuncion tomorrow morning. That's if he couldn't get on the last plane today. And two Delta Force communicators were supposed to be on the 1130 Aerolineas flight from Miami to Buenos Aires tonight. They're going as tourists, with orders to report to a certain lady at our embassy…"
"Susanna isn't what comes to mind when one hears the phrase 'clandestine service,' is she?" Weiss said, smiling.
I don't think Delchamps told him about Susanna Sieno. And if I'm right, that means he knows a hell of a lot about what's going on down there.
Who is this guy?
"Cutting this short, if Alex Darby and Munz are half as good as I think they are, finding out where these bastards have Timmons won't take nearly as long as setting up the operation to get him back will take."
"Tell Milton how you plan to do that," Delchamps said.
"The only way to do that is with helicopters," Castillo said. "And the problem there is that we're going to have to use Hueys. Nobody in Argentina or Paraguay has Apaches or Black Hawks or Little Birds. The problem there is where to get the Hueys, and crews for them. I don't want to use active-duty Army pilots if I don't have to; same thing with the technical people.
"There used to be a long list of unemployed Huey drivers hanging around China Post…"
Castillo stopped and looked at Weiss to make sure he understood what he was talking about. Weiss nodded, just perceptibly, signaling he knew that China Post No. 1 (In Exile) of the American Legion, in addition to providing the camaraderie and other benefits of any Legion Post, also served as sort of an employment agency for retired special operators of the various branches of service.
"…but when I called there, a friend of mine said most of them are now either back in the service, or working for Blackwater or people like that, or the agency. He's trying to find me some chopper drivers, etcetera, but that may take some time, if it works at all.
"And then, presuming I can pull that rabbit magically from the hat, that leaves the problem of getting the aircraft and the people into Argentina black.
"Taking first things first, I'm going to Fort Rucker right after the briefing tomorrow-"
"What briefing?" Weiss asked.
"Montvale is gathering all the experts in his empire to give me everything they have on what's going on down there."
Weiss nodded. "And you're going to do what at Fort Rucker?"
"They have some Hueys. Montvale is going to have somebody from the secretary of Defense's office call down there and tell them to give me whatever I ask for, and not to ask questions. I'm going to see what's available and what shape it's in. And then I'm going to borrow an airplane and go see Ambassador Lorimer, who lost his house to Hurricane Katrina and wants to move to Estancia Shangri-La until he can get a new house in New Orleans. I've got to talk him out of that."
"I hadn't heard about that," Delchamps said.
"What are you going to do about shooters?" Weiss asked.
Castillo was surprised at first at Weiss's use of the term. Few people outside the special operations community used the politically incorrect term to describe special operators whose mission was likely to require the use of deadly force.
What the hell, he seems to know about everything else.
"My friend at China Post told me I just about wiped out the list of available shooters when I hired them to protect the Mastersons," Castillo said. "That assignment's just about over, but those guys are all getting a little long in the tooth, so I'm probably going to have to get my shooters from Delta at Fort Bragg. I already gave General McNab a heads-up."
"That's about it?" Weiss said.
"I probably could have gotten more done if I hadn't spent all that time playing the slots in Vegas," Castillo said.
Weiss smiled.
"You're right, Ed," he said. "He is a wiseass, but he's also good. Very good."
"Am I supposed to blush at the compliment?" Castillo challenged.
"The station chief in Asuncion is not intellectually challenged, Colonel," Weiss said.
"That's not my information," Castillo said. "If he's a friend of yours, I'm sorry."
"Jonathon Crawford's a very good friend of mine, actually," Weiss said. "And for that reason I was delighted to hear your unflattering opinion of him."
Castillo looked at him in confusion, then threw both hands up to signal he didn't understand.
Weiss explained: "If you-and more important, Alex Darby-didn't see through the image Jonathon has painted of himself as a mediocrity sent to an unimportant backwater post to keep him from causing trouble working beyond his limited ability somewhere important, then perhaps that very important deception is working."
Castillo looked at Delchamps.
"This is where you tell me what's going on here, Ed."
"We've got your attention now, do we, Ace?" He looked at Weiss. "Okay. Where do I start? You want to do this?"
"You do it. I don't think the colonel trusts me."
Delchamps nodded, looked thoughtful for a moment, then said: "When I was bringing you up to speed on the Cold War dinosaurs, Ace, I may have led you to believe that we all came out of Europe. Not so. There is a subspecies, Latin American, which is held with just about the same degree of suspicion and contempt by many people in Langley as are those of us who worked Berlin, Vienna, Budapest, and points east. Milton here is one of these. Fair, Milton?"