"Which means?" Torine asked.
Castillo said: "Weiss told us-right, Edgar?-that the station agent down there is not as intellectually challenged as people think he is. The implication being that's on purpose?"
Delchamps nodded.
"And that disinformation," Delchamps said, "could not have been put in place without a very good reason to do it, or without the knowledge and permission of the DCI and/or A. Franklin Lammelle."
"Which means he is either really intellectually challenged, or was set up by somebody in Langley who didn't think the DCI had to know."
"It smells, Ace," Delchamps said. "And the odor is not coming from my new friend Jack or Lammelle."
Castillo raised his eyebrows, then asked, "So what should we do?"
"I want to have a long talk with Alex Darby and the other social pariahs down there. And their contacts."
"You mean, you want to go down there?"
Delchamps nodded.
"When?"
"Jake," Delchamps said, "what time did you say our new pilot gets here?"
[TWO]
Headquarters Fort Rucker and the Army Aviation Center Fort Rucker, Alabama 1105 8 September 2005 "You're not planning to take that animal in there with you, are you?" Lieutenant Colonel Randolph Richardson III inquired of Lieutenant Colonel C. G. Castillo as Castillo slid open the side door of the van to let out Max.
"I can't leave him in the van in this heat," Castillo said. "And General Crenshaw likes him."
Castillo was more than a little pleased when they marched into Crenshaw's office and saluted. General Crenshaw returned the salute, said, "Stand at ease, gentlemen," then clapped his hands together, bent over, and called, "Hey, Max! C'mere, boy!"
Max walked up to him, sat down, offered his paw, then allowed for his ears to be scratched.
"That's one hell of a dog, Castillo," General Crenshaw said, then added, "Please sit down, gentlemen. Can I get you a cup of coffee?"
"No, thank you, sir," Colonel Richardson said.
"If it wouldn't be too much trouble, sir," Colonel Castillo said.
General Crenshaw raised his voice. "Two coffees, please. Black, right, Castillo?"
"Yes, sir."
"Both black."
Castillo thought, Righteous, you ass-kissing sonofabitch, you're actually wondering if it's too late to change your mind about the coffee.
If the general is having some, it's obviously the thing for you to do.
"Okay," General Crenshaw said. "What can I do for you this morning, Castillo?"
"Sir, I'm here to make my manners. I'm moving down the road, and it's likely I won't be back. I just wanted to express my thanks for all your support…"
Crenshaw waved deprecatingly.
"…and especially, sir, to let you know how much I appreciate everything Colonel Richardson has done for us. He's really done a first-class job."
That's true, even if he took elaborate precautions to cover his ass every time he did anything.
Crenshaw's secretary delivered two china mugs of coffee.
"You'll notice, Colonel Castillo, that I am not asking how things are going," Crenshaw said, "only if they are going the way you want them to."
"Exactly the way I hoped they would, sir. Colonel Davies sent his S-4 down here yesterday to get the H-models off your books and onto those of the 160th-"
"From which they will drop into the sea, never to be seen again?" Crenshaw asked, jokingly, then quickly added, "I probably shouldn't have said that."
"Into the sea"?
Jesus Christ! Where did he get that?
If he knows about the Ronald Reagan, we're compromised before we get started.
Easy, Castillo!
That was a figure of speech, nothing more. He doesn't know about the Ronald Reagan.
"I don't know about them dropping into the sea, sir, but they might wind up on eBay."
Crenshaw laughed.
"I don't mean to pry, Castillo," he said. "Yes, I guess I do. But I understand the ground rules."
"Sir, I regret that…"
Crenshaw held up his hand to shut him off.
"You're obeying your orders, Colonel, I understand that."
"Thank you, sir."
"What's going to happen now, sir," Castillo went on, "is that the choppers and their crews will stay here until the word comes for them to move."
"Will that come through me or…?"
"Directly, sir. I have a communicator here, as you know-"
"The man from DirecTV."
"Yes, sir. The execute order will pass through him to Major Ward, the senior pilot. And then they will leave, taking everything with them, and leaving nothing behind but their thanks and the hope that nobody even knew they were here."
"Is there going to be a problem with that, Richardson?" General Crenshaw asked. "Has anyone been extra curious about what's going on in the Hanchey hangar?"
"I don't anticipate any problems in that area, General," Richardson said.
Crenshaw looked at Castillo and asked, "What about my putting out a discreet word that no one is to gossip about what's going on at Hanchey?"
"Sir, I appreciate the offer, but I suggest it would be counterproductive; it might call attention to the Hanchey hangar. We have put out the disinformation-when the question 'What are you guys doing here?' comes up at Happy Hour-that the choppers are being prepared for use as Opposing Force aircraft at the National Training Center at Fort Irwin. We think that's credible."
Crenshaw nodded his agreement.
"You think of everything, don't you, Castillo?"
"Sir, I think of a lot, but there's always something important that gets right past me."
Crenshaw bent over again, and Max gave him his paw again.
"So long, Max," Crenshaw said. "Meeting you has been an experience…"-he stood up as he glanced at Castillo-"…and so has been meeting your boss."
Castillo put his virtually untouched coffee mug down and stood up.
Crenshaw put out his hand to him. "Good luck in whatever you're up to, Colonel."
"Thank you very much, sir. Permission to withdraw, sir?"
Crenshaw nodded.
Castillo and Richardson came to attention and saluted, Crenshaw returned it, then Castillo and Richardson marched out of his office. Max followed.
[THREE]
Aboard Gulfstream III N379LT 33,000 Feet Above the Atlantic Ocean Approximately 100 Nautical Miles East of Cancun, Mexico 1630 8 September 2005 Lieutenant Colonel C. G. Castillo couldn't move his legs. He was up to his knees in some kind of muck.
Where the hell am I? What's going on?
He opened his eyes and found himself sitting in the rear-facing seat against the right bulkhead separating the cockpit from the passenger compartment. And saw the reason he had the nightmare in which he couldn't move his legs.
Max was having a little snooze, too, and had chosen to take it in the space between the rear-facing seat and the forward-facing seat, and to rest his weary head on Castillo's feet.
"You big bastard, how did you get in there?"
Max raised his head just enough to look at Castillo-and for Castillo to free his feet-and then laid it down again.
Castillo swung his feet into the aisle, unfastened his seat belt, stood up, and walked down the aisle to meet the call of nature.
He saw that he and Max were not the only ones having a little snooze. Davidson was sitting in the rear-facing seat across the aisle, snoring softly. Delchamps and Leverette were stretched out on the couches, sound asleep.
Yung and Neidermeyer were awake, talking softly, in two of the aisle-facing seats, and Bradley was in one of the forward-facing seats in the rear of the fuselage, looking as if sleep was just around the corner.
When he came out of the toilet, he thought-as he often did-of the fat lady on a transatlantic flight whose rear end had made a perfect seal around the toilet seat, something she found out when she flushed the device, and the vacuum evacuation system kept her glued to it for several hours.