"We can talk about that later," Charley said. "But this one goes back to Bragg with Dumbrowski when this is over. Agreed?"
"Agreed."
"Sergeant Dumbrowski is going to need a place to stay. Close to the radio."
"There's a bedroom off the boss's office. So far as I know, he's used it twice. I'll put the sergeant in there, and if the boss asks I'll tell him you said to do it. Okay?"
"You are devious," Castillo said.
"Talking about devious, two guys who work for an unnamed federal agency and who we haven't seen in years looked Tom McGuire and me up-purely for auld lang syne, of course-and then asked if we happened to know where they could find your friend Kennedy. Not together. They took four shots at us. First Tom, and then me, and then two hours later another guy did the same thing. I guess they had a real hard time believing us when we said we didn't know anything about Kennedy's whereabouts and didn't think you did, either."
"Thanks," Castillo said.
"You want me to take this radio and the sergeant to Philadelphia with us?"
"Who's going to Philadelphia?"
"The boss is, I guess to try to keep the mayor from going ballistic when the commissioner tells him about the plans for the Liberty Bell. You mean, you didn't know?"
Castillo shook his head. "When?"
"First thing in the morning." Isaacson looked at his watch. "In six hours. He wants to be there early."
"Leave the radio where it is. I'm taking one to Philadelphia to give to Miller. And you'll have secure communications anyway, right?"
Isaacson nodded.
"Well, if that's it, Don Juan, I'll take the sergeant over to Nebraska Avenue."
"I wish you'd knock off with the Don Juan."
"I know," Isaacson said, smiling.
Charley looked at the Lear. They were almost finished fueling it and Fernando was doing the walk-around.
Charley got in the airplane and went into the cockpit.
[TWO]
Philadelphia International Airport
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
0205 10 June 2005
Philadelphia ground control had directed them to the Lease-Aire hangar, so Castillo wasn't surprised to see, as they taxied up, two Ford Crown Victorias, with all the police regalia, and a third, unmarked Victoria.
Is that Betty's unmarked car?
As the Lear parked, Sergeant Schneider and Major H. Richard Miller, Jr., got out of the unmarked car. Miller was still wearing the ragged clothing from his father's garage that Betty had suggested he wear while meeting the undercover cops.
That triggered an uncomfortable thought: Jesus, I've been telling these people I'm Secret Service and/or Hall's executive assistant and here I am in my Class As.
Three cops got out of the police cars. All were wearing the leather jackets of the Highway Patrol. One of them was a burly man with a lieutenant's bars on his jacket epaulets.
Ah, the brother who's going to break both my legs. I told him – or at least let him think – I'm in the DEA.
Shit!
As Fernando was shutting down the Lear, Castillo took off his headset, put on his beret, and went into the cabin. He found the Delta team arranging their gear and said, "You guys made up your mind which of you will stay here and which will go wherever the ever-changing winds of fate are going to take me?"
Sergeant First Class Seymour Krantz, who wasn't much over the height and weight minimums for the Army, smiled at him.
"I was with Major Miller in Afghanistan, sir, so if it's all right with you:"
"You'll go anywhere he's not, right?"
Krantz chuckled.
"Major Miller and I get along pretty good, sir."
"Okay. What I'm going to do is try to get a cop to sit on the airplane and then take Sergeant Sherman with us to help you get the radio set up."
They nodded and said, "Yes, sir," almost in unison.
Castillo opened the door and stepped down from the Lear.
"Where the hell did you get the airplane?" Miller asked by way of greeting.
"It belongs to my cousin Fernando," Castillo said. "Good morning, Sergeant Schneider."
"Good morning," she said, avoiding looking at him, and formally-and more than a little awkwardly-shaking his hand. "This is my brother, Lieutenant Frank Schneider, of the Highway Patrol."
Lieutenant Schneider was standing with his arms folded, looking the opposite of friendly. The other two Highway Patrolmen, both of them large and mean looking, stood behind him. One of them was the sergeant who'd driven him to the airport earlier.
And I wonder how long it took for you to tell Ol' Break My Legs that the Secret Service calls me Don Juan?
"Good morning," Castillo said. "Or, good middle of the night."
Lieutenant Schneider neither smiled nor offered his hand.
"You told me you was DEA," he accused.
"And you told me you were going to break both my legs," Castillo said. "One good lie deserves another, right?"
"What did he say to you?" Betty asked, aghast. "Frank, damn you!"
Castillo saw Sergeant Krantz, all five-feet-four and 130 pounds of him, struggling to get his huge hard-sided suitcase down from the Lear.
"Not to worry, Sergeant," Castillo said, pointing at Krantz, "I brought a highly skilled Special Forces assassin along to protect me."
The Highway sergeant chuckled.
At Ol' Break My Legs, not at me.
Miller recognized Sergeant Krantz.
"Let me give you a hand with that, Seymour," he said and went quickly to help him.
Castillo turned to meet Lieutenant Schneider's eyes.
She said, "Commissioner Kellogg told Highway that, until further notice, supporting Counterterrorism with whatever they want is the job. Chief Inspector Kramer ordered me to meet you and ask what you want."
"How much else did anyone else tell you?" Castillo asked.
"I know about the Liberty Bell, if that's what you mean."
"And who else was told?"
"The Highway commander and these officers," Schneider said.
"Keep it that way, Lieutenant, please," Castillo said.
Schneider nodded.
"So what do you need?"
"We've got a special radio. We'll need some place to set it up. And I need someone to sit on the airplane while we're here. And I'd like to talk to the undercover guy:"
"He's at the Homicide Bureau in the Roundhouse," Betty Schneider said. "But tell me about the radio, what does it need?"
"Someplace preferably out of the rain," Sergeant Krantz answered for him. "And someplace-a flat roof would be nice-not far from the controls, where the antenna will have a clear shot at the sky, the satellite."
"How big's the antenna?" Betty asked.
Krantz demonstrated with his hands and arms.
"There's a sort of porch on Building 110," she said, looking at Castillo. "You saw it. Would that do?"
He called Building 110 to his memory.
"Yeah, I think so."
Fernando and Sergeant Sherman walked up.
"This is Fernando Lopez," Castillo said. "And Sergeant Sherman, who's going to help Sergeant Krantz set up the radio. Fernando and I are cousins. This is Sergeant Betty Schneider, her brother Frankie:"
" Frank," Schneider quickly and firmly corrected him.
But I got another smile from the sergeant.
": Lieutenant Schneider of the Highway Patrol."
Schneider shook hands with Fernando. Betty smiled at him, looked a little confused, and said, "And that's Dick Miller."
"Dick and I go back a ways," Fernando said.
"You want to top the tanks off and get the weather and file a flight plan back to Bragg?"
"I'd rather go with you," Fernando said. "You have a problem with that?"
Castillo thought it over a moment before answering, "No. Why not?"
"Good," Fernando said.
"Okay, so what we have to do now is get the sergeants and the radio to the arsenal," Castillo said. "And me, Fernando, and Dick to the Roundhouse. You said the Homicide Bureau? What's the undercover officer doing there?"
"I'll take you and Major Miller and Mr. Lopez:" Lieutenant Schneider said.
"No," Betty said, flatly, cutting him off. "The sergeants and the radio go to the arsenal in Highway cars. I'll take Major Castillo, Major Miller, and Mr. Lopez to the Roundhouse."