"As soon as everybody's assembled, and the choppers checked and fueled, we'll make the assault."
"No dry run?"
"No. That would attract too much attention, and you know as well as I do, Bob, that things happen-like dumping birds-during dry runs. You guys have done this sort of thing before; I'm not worried about that."
Ward nodded.
"What we're going to do," Castillo went on, "is make a simultaneous approach to the target. Three birds will take out the two generators, what we think is the main generator and its spare, and their radio. Duffy's gendarmes will cut the telephone and power lines at the same time.
"Three of the birds will use suppressing fire and get ready to put their shooters on the ground if necessary, while the fourth bird with a couple of shooters will land and grab the DEA guy and two gendarmes who these nice people have chained to a pole and, we believe, are keeping them doped up with some drug."
"You've located them?"
"Master Sergeant Ludwicz…you know him?"
"Skinhead."
Castillo nodded. "Skinhead penetrated this place and got a positive visual."
"So you know where they are?"
Castillo nodded again, then said, "Unless they're moved, which will probably happen. The fourth bird will put two shooters, plus an ex-Green Beret and a cop who both know the DEA guy-his name is Timmons-on the ground, grab them, put them on the chopper, whereupon the chopper will haul ass. The quicker we're in and out, the better."
"An ex-Green Beret and a cop? Where did they come from?"
"The ex-Green Beret is called Pegleg because one of them is titanium."
"Lorimer?"
"You know him?"
"Of him."
"Good man. And the cop, he's a detective sergeant, is the DEA guy's brother-in-law."
"You brought a cop in on this?"
"It was not my idea. But I don't know what shape the DEA guy is going to be in, and I don't want to have to fight with him to get him into the chopper, so maybe he'll be useful as a friendly face.
Major Ward did not look convinced.
"I know, I know," Castillo said. "Best scenario, we get them aboard the chopper and haul ass without having to put the shooters on the ground."
"Back to the field across the river?"
"The bird evacing the DEA guy will go to the airport at Formosa-a hundred clicks from the target-where the Gulfstream will be waiting. And there'll be medics, to let Torine know if it's safe for the DEA guy to fly, first to Uruguay and then home."
"Why Uruguay?"
"Because the Uruguayan cops get the choppers when we're done with them. The Gulfstream will also take all the pilots home."
"Where are you going to be while all this is going on?"
"I'll be flying the bird that lands to get the DEA guy."
Ward did not respond to that.
"Not to worry, Bob," Colin Leverette said, coming into the light of the Coleman lamp. "I'll be with him to make sure he doesn't do something stupid."
"Where did that idea come from?" Castillo asked. "For that matter, where the hell did you come from? I thought you were pumping fuel."
"My offer to be of assistance was declined," Leverette said. "Somewhat rudely, I thought."
"Your offer to be of assistance to me is herewith politely declined, Colin. I need you to stay with the ambassador."
"Anticipating what you were planning for me, I had Vic D'Alessando send the best available shooters from the stockade down here with the ambassador."
"I'll be fine, Colonel," Ambassador Lorimer said. "There are all sorts of local police, as well." He paused and added, "What is that phrase from Tactics 101? I think you've been outflanked by Colin, Colonel."
"Colonel," Leverette added, "you didn't really expect me to wave a tearful bye-bye while you and Jack Davidson flew off to do battle with the forces of evil, did you?"
Castillo was silent. Then he shook his head in an exaggerated fashion.
"I give up," he said.
"Colonel, what's the worst scenario?" Ward asked.
Castillo inhaled deeply, exhaled audibly, and said, "These people took out two of Comandante Duffy's gendarmes. He wants to leave bodies all over to make the point they shouldn't have done this. I can't stop him-frankly, I'm not sure I blame him-but I can't afford to get us involved in anything like that.
"So, worst scenario is that we get in a firefight on the ground. That would take time. I think Duffy's men are going to be in the compound where Timmons is within five minutes of the time we get there. I want to be gone by then, long before there's any chance of us taking fire-or casualties."
There came the sound of the Huey's engine starting.
"Well, Bob, I think you'd better take this old Air Force type to the house," Castillo said. "He's had enough excitement for one day."
"What I think we need, Colin, is a kinder, gentler commander," Colonel Torine said.
Almost exactly two hours later, at 0620, Castillo and Leverette looked out the side door of Red Riding Hood Four-around the Gatling gun-as the aircraft lifted off. They waved good-bye to Ambassador Lorimer, who was standing by the table in the field with the two next best available shooters from the stockade at his side.
XV
[ONE]
Estancia San Patricio
Near Clorinda
Formosa Province, Argentina 0355 21 September 2005 Castillo had an uneasy feeling that things were going too well, too smoothly.
Even the damn TVs came through.
All four of them. And in working order.
They were the sixty-four-inch flat-screen LCD television monitors from the quincho at Nuestra Pequena Casa. He had mentioned idly to Comandante Duffy that it was a pity they wouldn't have one of them at what Edgar Delchamps had dubbed the Cathedral-"as in Saint Patrick's Cathedral"-meaning the huge warehouse buildings at Estancia San Patricio.
"They'd sure make the final briefing a lot easier," Castillo had said.
"Not a problem," Duffy said. "I'll have one of them there in the morning. Maybe we should send two, to be sure."
"Hell, take all of them. They're not going to do us any good here in the quincho."
And if we're really lucky, he'd thought, maybe more than one will survive getting trucked over a thousand clicks of bumpy provincial roads.
Thirty minutes later, one of the seized trucks from Duffy's combination headquarters-garage-warehouse had arrived at Nuestra Pequena Casa. The cargo area of the truck was half filled with mattresses.
And the next day-yesterday, at lunchtime-when Castillo arrived at the Cathedral with Delchamps, Lester, Leverette, and Max in a confiscated Mercedes SUV, Sergeant Major Jack Davidson had all four of the screens up and running, displaying the latest satellite updates.
"This is great, Jack, but now everybody knows more than they should," Castillo said.
"Well, surprising me not a little, Duffy didn't argue with me when I told him that we were in the lockdown stage of the operation and that nobody leaves the Cathedral once they come in."
"You're a good man, Jack. Don't pay any attention to what people are always saying about you."
Comandante Liam Duffy, now wearing what was apparently the Gendarmeria Nacional uniform for going to war-camouflage shirt and trousers, sort of jump boots, and web equipment that seemed designed primarily to support many ammunition magazines-walked up to Castillo, pointed at his wristwatch, and raised his eyebrows in question.
"Yeah, Liam," Castillo said. "It's about time."
Duffy bellowed a name.
An enormous gendarme with a sleeve full of chevrons appeared, came to attention before Duffy, and announced that he was at his orders.
"Form the men!" Duffy ordered, loudly.
The gendarme bellowed something not quite intelligible but what apparently was the gendarme command to come to attention.
All the gendarmes popped to their feet, stamped their feet in the British manner, and stood rigidly at attention.