"Yes, I am," Castillo said.
"With some experience in long-distance, jet-long-distance, flight?"
"I know for a fact that he flew the right seat of a 727 from Costa Rica to MacDill, and worked the radios and everything," Torine said, smiling at Charley. "What's with all the questions, Walter?"
"Sir, it would be easier if the major were conversant with the problems involved in a flight of that distance."
"Can your fancy little bird make it from here to Philadelphia nonstop, or not, Walter? Jesus Christ!" Torine exploded.
"Theoretically, yes. But it would be prudent to think of somewhere to refuel if fuel consumption turned out to be greater for one reason or another than planned for."
"Worst fuel-consumption scenario, Colonel. Can you make it from here to Miami?"
"Very probably. There are never any guarantees."
"What about MacDill?" Castillo asked. "As a refueling stop?"
"Very probably," the lieutenant colonel said, after considering it for a moment.
"Thank you," Castillo said.
"But speaking hypothetically, MacDill requires advance notice-twelve hours, I believe, I'd have to check-to refuel transient aircraft."
"I'm not being hypothetical, Colonel," Castillo said. "What's going to happen is this: Ambassador Silvio at this moment is arranging for an American physician…"
He paused and looked at Torine.
"… who fortunately (a) is a fellow Miami Cuban, and (b) is in town conducting a seminar at the University of Belgrano, and a nurse or maybe two."
Torine nodded his understanding, and Castillo looked back at the lieutenant colonel.
"You are going to fly Special Agent Schneider, the doctor, and the nurses from here to Philadelphia just as soon-maybe tomorrow, maybe the day after tomorrow-as they say she's up to the trip."
"On whose authority, Major?"
"On mine," Castillo said softly.
"I'm afraid I can't do that, Major. My orders were to fly the FBI team down here, and then to return them to Washington."
"Listen to me very carefully, Colonel Newley," Colonel Torine said, icily. "I am telling you that Major Castillo has all the authority he needs to tell you to do anything. Now you can accept that, and cheerfully and willingly comply with any orders he may give you, or I will get on the horn to General McFadden at CentCom and inform him that after relieving you for obstructing a presidential mission, I am placing your copilot in command of the Gulfstream, assigning one of my backup crew as copilot, and returning you to Andrews by commercial air."
General Albert McFadden, U.S. Air Force, was the CentCom deputy commander.
Lieutenant Colonel Walter Newley's face paled. He swallowed, then said, "Yes, sir," very softly.
"Does that mean you understand you're under Major Castillo's orders?"
"Yes, sir," Lieutenant Colonel Newley said softly.
"What? I didn't hear that. You're supposed to sound like an Air Force officer, not some faggot wearing the wings of an Air Chad cabin attendant."
"Yes, sir," Lieutenant Colonel Newley said, much louder.
"Wait in the corridor for me, please, Colonel," Torine said, in a normal voice.
"Yes, sir," Lieutenant Colonel Newley said, somewhat loudly.
Torine waited until the door closed, then turned to Castillo.
"Charley," he began, and then saw that Corporal Lester Bradley, USMC, had heard the exchange.
"Son," Torine asked, "I don't think you heard much of that little conversation, did you?"
"What conversation is that, sir?" Corporal Bradley asked.
"The only thing I like better than a Marine is a selectively deaf Marine," Torine said.
"Permission to speak, sir?"
"Granted."
"During our training at Quantico, sir, we are told we will hear things we will immediately forget we heard."
"Thank you," Torine said. "Now, son, please go into the corridor for a moment so that it won't be necessary for you to forget what Major Castillo and I are going to discuss."
"Yes, sir," Corporal Bradley said, and went into the corridor.
When the door had closed, Torine said, "I have no idea what that nonsense with Newley was all about, but I have the feeling there's something more to it than him being a by-the-book asshole."
"He knew I'm a major. I never said I was. So somebody told him. I think I know who."
Torine made a give-it-to-me gesture with his hands. "There's an FBI agent, assigned to the embassy in Montevideo. Name of Yung. I think he's made me."
"I don't think I understand."
"Howard Kennedy told me he's one of their hotshots-"
"Kennedy is here?" Torine asked, visibly surprised.
"He was. Kennedy said he used to work with this guy, and that whatever he's doing in Montevideo-he's supposed to be working on money laundering-isn't what he's really doing."
"I'll try to figure this out as you continue, Charley."
"I suspect there's still an FBI interest in Charley Castillo. What the cops would call a 'locate but do not detain.' Kennedy is still very worried about what he calls his 'former associates,' and he's not a fool. The FBI thinks I can lead them to Pevsner and/or Kennedy."
"Charley, I was there, with you, when the President told the DCI and director of the FBI to lay off Pevsner. I interpreted that to mean lay off Pevsner and the people who work for him."
"That's the primary reason I'm telling you this now, Jake. Somebody told the New York Times guy here-and some others-that the President's agent is down here, and somebody told Colonel Newley that I'm a major. And probably a troublemaker. 'Watch out for that sonofabitch, he can get you in trouble.' Am I being paranoid, or is it possible the FBI is ignoring what you and I would call a direct order from the President?"
Colonel Torine considered that for a moment, then said, "Well, you know what they say, Charley."
"No, what do they say?"
"Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean that little green men aren't trying to castrate you with machetes."
"Shit," Castillo chuckled.
"What are you going to do about it?" Torine asked.
"I have a gut feeling I should do nothing about it now. Maybe because I'm a little afraid of the clout they've given me, and I don't want to burn the bastard until I'm sure he is a bastard. And I also want to find out what Howard Kennedy meant when he said whatever Yung is doing in Montevideo, it's not reading bank statements."
"What else could he be doing?"
"I have no idea, but I do know that the minute the FBI finds out I've fingered him, he'll stop doing it, and then I'll never know."
Torine shrugged. "It's your call, Charley. I can't fault it. What do you want me to do with Newley?"
"See that he gets the airplane ready. Have him hang around here until we can get this doctor to look at the airplane and see what else he will need."
"Done," Torine said. "Charley, I've got a guy at Ezeiza who can fly that Gulfstream. Redundancy was one of the reasons I brought him along. Say the word and I'll have him fly it."
"No, I don't want to do that. If you relieve Newley, there goes his career. He was doing what he thought was the right thing to do, and I think you made a Christian out of him."
"Your call. What are you going to do now?"
"I'm going back to the hospital and wait for Betty to come out of the operating room."
"Want some company? After I make sure I've made a true Christian out of Newley? One who won't go back to his wicked ways the minute we get off the ground?"
"Thanks but no thanks, Jake."
X
[ONE] The German Hospital Avenida Pueyrredon Buenos Aires, Argentina 2135 24 July 2005 There were two men Castillo suspected were SIDE agents in the lobby of the hospital when he and Corporal Bradley walked in. Confirmation came when one of them walked up to them and told Castillo "your agent" was in room 677.
It was the room where Mrs. Masterson had been placed. Castillo wondered whether it was coincidence or whether the ever-resourceful Colonel Munz had an arrangement with the hospital for really secure rooms for patients in whom SIDE had an interest.