"Yes, sir," Bradley almost barked.
You're being unfair. He may look like an escapee from the high school cheerleading squad, but he did get the Yukon here, didn't he? And the fuel and weapons past the border guards?
"In the best of all possible worlds," Castillo continued, "you would get to Tacuarembo at, say, quarter to five, even a little earlier. That would give you time to find the right road out of town, and then to find the field. You'll have a map. Getting from the road to the field is the problem. Reconnoiter it on foot, make sure, operative word sure, that you won't get the truck stuck in the mud. If we get really lucky and you can drive to the field, dump the fuel barrels and the pump. Not the weapons. Just the fuel and the pump. And then go find the Hotel Carlos Gardel in Tacuarembo. It shouldn't be hard; it's the only one. Decide for yourself if you want to take the chance of leaving the weapons in the Yukon or taking them and the other stuff into the hotel."
"You don't want us to just stay in the field overnight?" Solez asked.
"If some gaucho rides up on the fuel, he might figure someone left it there to fuel a tractor or something. He would get curious to find two guys in a Yukon."
"Okay."
"If you can't get the Yukon in there, we'll just have to land the chopper on the road in the morning and refuel it there."
"Why do you have to refuel it at all?" Britton asked. "I mean, you went up there and back-"
"Because I'm going directly to Jorge Newbery from Shangri-La," Castillo explained. "To do that I'm going to need a full load of fuel. Torine and Fernando are going to stay here-the Lear is-until they get word that we have Lorimer in the bag. We should know whether that worked by, say, twenty-one hundred tomorrow night. When-if-they get the word, they immediately go wheels-up to Jorge Newbery.
"The next morning-I'm going to have to wait until it's light to take off-I'm going to fly nap of the earth, under, I devoutly hope, any radar. I don't want to try that in the dark with the equipment on the Ranger."
He looked at Munz.
"Tell Alex that whoever sold him the avionics on that chopper screwed him. And that, in the spirit of friendship, I'll send him a list of what he should have."
"Somebody cheated Alex?" Munz said. "That wasn't smart, was it?"
"Who's Alex?" Darby asked.
"You don't want to know," Castillo said.
"And if things don't go well, Charley?" Torine asked.
"We'll have to play that by ear," Castillo said. "Maybe stay one day and try it again. Or abort this operation and think of something else."
Torine nodded.
"If it works, and you go to Buenos Aires, check out of the Four Seasons."
"Check everybody out?" Torine asked.
"Britton, me, and you and Fernando," Castillo said. "Kranz and Kensington will have to stay here long enough to get the weapons, the gear, and the radios back to Buenos Aires. And then get with Darby and Santini and get it to the States through the embassy. So they'll need rooms for a day or two. Then they'll go back to Bragg commercial. Is getting them tickets going to be a problem, Alex?"
Darby shook his head.
"Good. Okay, Fernando and Torine will go to Jorge Newbery, check the weather, file a flight plan, etcetera, and be ready to go the minute I get there in the Ranger with Lorimer and Yung and Munz. That's where you come in, mi coronel-Alex said you'd be helpful-"
"Who the hell is Alex?" Darby asked again. Castillo ignored the question.
"If I'm able to reason with Lorimer," he went on, "that is, convince him the only way he's going to stay alive is by going with me, fine. He may even have his American and UN passports in his safe. If he gives me trouble, if I have to put him to sleep-Yung, a man of many unexpected talents, tells me he'll have no trouble getting into his safe-I think we can count on his Lebanese passport for sure. But if he is knocked out, how do we get him through immigration and into the Lear?"
"I can arrange that," Munz said. "No problem."
"And I just come back to Montevideo, right?" Yung asked.
"No. You're going to the States with us," Castillo said.
"What about my investigation, my files? I'd really like to stay here."
"This is not open for debate, Yung," Castillo said. "You're going with us. Your cover as just one more FBI agent will be blown with the ambassador the moment he hears what happened. So this afternoon, pack a bag with enough clothes for a couple of days and give it to Fernando. A small bag."
"What the hell happens to my files?"
"You are tenacious, aren't you?" Castillo said sharply. "But that is, in fact, a good question. Mr. Howell, this afternoon-when you go with him to his apartment-Mr. Yung is going to give you some files, which, as of this moment, are classified Top Secret-Presidential. You will find someplace to keep them until I decide how to get them to the States. Maybe in the hands of a diplomatic courier."
"And what happens to my files in the States?"
"Whatever the President decides to do with them."
"Which means they disappear down the black hole of diplomacy?"
"I just changed my mind," Castillo said. "Colonel Torine, will you go with Howell and Yung to Yung's apartment and take possession of Yung's files? That way, we can take them home with us."
Torine gave him a thumbs-up signal.
Castillo nodded. "The subject is closed, Yung. You understand?"
Yung exhaled in resigned disgust.
"Okay," Castillo said. "Now to the assault team. Those two"-he pointed to Kranz and Kensington- "have some very rudimentary skills in that area. So they'll be on it. But that means they won't be on the radios. You can set them up, can't you, so all someone has to do is turn them on and talk?"
"No problem, sir," Sergeant Kensington said.
"One goes with us. That leaves the question of where to set up the other one. Here? Can you just aim the antenna out the window, the way you did in the Four Seasons?"
"I think so, sir. I'll have to try it."
"Okay, but if Miller, or anyone else in the States, tries to talk to you, it fails, right? I don't want anybody trying to micromanage this operation."
"Got it, sir," Kensington said.
"How big is the antenna?" Howell asked.
"A little larger than a satellite TV antenna," Kensington answered. "Eighteen, twenty inches in diameter."
"There's a backyard at my house," Howell said. "Fenced in. Would that work?"
"Where's your house?" Castillo asked.
"In Carrasco, not far from Yung's apartment."
"Okay, you are now our base station radio operator. Kensington will go with you, set it up, and show you how it works."
Both men nodded.
"Jack Britton, who knows how to operate a Car 4, and I know is pretty good at running around in the dark, gets suited up. Tony, you want to go?"
"Absolutely."
"I would like to volunteer, sir," Corporal Lester Bradley said. "I have never fired the Car 4, but I shot Expert at Parris Island with the M-16, and with the Beretta, and in Iraq I was the designated marksman of my fire-team. I used a bolt-action 7.62? 51mm sniper's rifle for that, sir. Essentially a Remington Model 700 modified for Marine Corps use, sir."
"You were a sniper in Iraq?" Sergeant Kranz asked incredulously.
"We don't have snipers in the Corps, Sergeant. But the better shots are issued a sniper's rifle and are assigned as 'designated marksmen.'"
"We have a Remington, right?" Castillo asked.
"I do, sir," Kranz said.
"Well, Lester," Castillo said, "you're just the man I've been looking for. What you're going to do is take Sergeant Kranz's rifle, make yourself a suitably camouflaged firing/observation position… We have binoculars, too, right, Kranz?"
Kranz nodded. "And the night-vision goggles. The new ones, the really good ones."
"Make sure that Corporal Bradley knows how to use them," Castillo ordered. "He's going to guard the Ranger while we're at the house."
"Sir, since it's Sergeant Kranz's rifle," Bradley said, "maybe he'd prefer to guard the helicopter, and I could go on the assault team."