"So what are my friends Charley and Alfredo doing in Patagonia with a dog the size of a horse?" Pevsner asked.
"Would you believe we came to see the fossilized dinosaur bones?" Castillo said.
"Knowing that you never lie to me, I would have to."
"How about we heard you would be here and decided to buy you dinner?"
"It would be a strain, but I would have to believe that, too."
"We need to talk, Alek," Castillo said.
"That I believe. That's what I was afraid of," Pevsner said. "All right, tomorrow morning. I'll send the boat for you at, say, half past nine?"
"How about tonight?" Castillo said. "I'm really pressed for time."
Pevsner obviously didn't like that, but after a moment, he said, "We came for dinner. We could talk about what you want to talk about after dinner, if you like."
"That would be fine," Castillo said. "Thank you. And you'll be my guests at dinner, of course."
"That's not what I meant, as I suspect you know full well, friend Charley. But faced with the choice between the long face of Elena over dinner-having been separated from her newfound friend-or breaking bread with you, I opt for the less painful of the two."
"Alek!" his wife protested.
"It's all right, Anna," Castillo said. "What are friends for if not to insult?"
"I'm afraid that after dinner I will learn what you really think friends are for," Pevsner said. "Shall we go in?" He gestured toward the dining room. "Elena, the dog goes with the understanding he does not get fed from the table, understood?"
"Yes, Poppa."
"I don't think they'll let him in there, Alek," Castillo said. "This isn't Budapest."
"Yes, I know," Pevsner said. "In Patagonia, you have to have a substantial financial interest in the hotel if you want to bring a dog into the dining room."
Castillo smiled and shook his head.
The maitre d'hotel appeared, clutching menus to his chest.
"These gentlemen," Pevsner ordered, indicating Castillo and Munz, "will be dining with us. Their friends"-he pointed to Lorimer, Mullroney, and Bradley-"will dine with mine."
His Spanish was good, even fluent, but heavily Russian-accented.
"Bradley," Castillo ordered, "go to your room and see if I have any telephone calls. If it's important, tell me. Otherwise, just come down here and have your dinner."
"Aye, aye, sir," Bradley said.
A waiter arrived with a tray of champagne glasses almost as soon as the headwaiter had laid their menus before them. Two of the glasses held a bubbling brown liquid that Castillo decided was Coca-Cola for Sergei and Aleksandr. He was surprised when Elena was offered and accepted one of the champagne stems.
I don't need champagne if I'm going to be flying. I'll just take a sip when we get to the inevitable toast.
That came almost immediately.
Pevsner got half out of his chair, picked up his glass, and reached out with it to touch Castillo's.
"To dear and trusted friends," Pevsner said, and then moved his glass to tap the rims of the others, including his daughter's.
When that was over, Pevsner just about emptied his glass. Elena didn't do that, but she took a healthy ladylike sip.
They let her drink? Maybe she is older than Randy.
"When were you born, honey?" Castillo asked her.
"Sixteen November 1992, by the Western calendar," Elena said.
Jesus Christ! She is almost exactly as old as Randy. Thirteen.
"And her drinking champagne shocks you?" Pevsner said.
"Do you always think the worst of people, Alek?" Castillo asked, and then he turned to Elena and his mouth went onto autopilot: "What I was thinking, honey, is that you're just about the same age as my son."
Jesus Christ!
I just said "my son" out loud for the first time.
"I didn't know you had a family, Charley," Anna said. "You never said anything."
Castillo was aware of Munz's eyes on him.
"I have a grandmother, a cousin who is more of a brother, and his family. And a son-Randy-who was also born in November of 1992. He lives with his mother and her husband."
"You don't get to see him?" Elena asked, sympathetically.
"I saw him just a few days ago," Castillo said. "I gave him flying lessons as we flew over the Gulf Coast looking at the damage Hurricane Katrina had done."
"Was it as terrible as we saw on television?" Anna asked.
"If anything, worse. Unbelievable."
"Have you got a picture?" Elena asked.
"You're interested?"
She nodded.
"In my son? Or the hurricane damage?"
She giggled and blushed.
"Both," she said.
Castillo reached under his chair and picked up his soft leather briefcase.
"What's that?" Pevsner asked.
"My American Express card. I never leave home without it."
Pevsner exhaled audibly, smiled, and shook his head.
Castillo took out the envelope of photographs that Sergeant Neidermeyer had made for him and handed it to Elena.
"Show these to your father and mother when you're finished," Castillo said.
"He's beautiful, Charley," Pevsner said some moments later. "His eyes are just like yours."
So much for the question "Does Abuela know?"
"Boys are 'handsome,' Alek," Castillo said, then glanced at Elena. "Girls are 'beautiful.'"
She smiled as she flipped to another photo.
"My boys are beautiful," Pevsner said. "And so is yours."
The waiter approached, excused his interruption, and said, "A cocktail before dinner?"
"Ginger ale for the children," Pevsner ordered. "Very dry vodka martinis, with onions, for my wife and myself. Alfredo?"
"I would like scotch," Munz said. "Single-malt Famous Grouse?"
The waiter nodded, and looked at Castillo.
"Nothing for me, thanks, I'm driving."
"Have one, friend Charley," Pevsner said. "I never trust a man who doesn't drink when I do."
"You never trust a man, period," Castillo said.
What the hell.
I'll just get off the ground in the morning a little later.
"I'll have what he's having," he said to the waiter. "Except hold the vegetables and vermouth."
[FOUR] Corporal Lester Bradley appeared at their table about the same time as the appetizers of prosciutto crudo with melon and pate de foie gras.
"Major Miller would like to speak to you, sir," Bradley announced. "He said it's really important."
I knew I shouldn't have had that martini.
"Excuse me, please," Castillo said, and stood. "I'll try to cut this as short as possible. C'mon, Max."
He signaled for Bradley to lead the way.
Castillo and Max followed him down the lobby to an elevator, which took them up to the second floor, then down a corridor almost to the end. Bradley unlocked a hotel room door, waved them ahead of him, and then followed them inside.
The control console was nowhere in sight, but Castillo saw a DirecTV dish fastened to the railing of the small balcony and remembered that there was a repeater mounted in the antenna; no cable was required.
Bradley took the control console from the shelf of a small closet and put it on a small table barely large enough to hold it.
For a five-star hotel, this room is pretty damn small.
He looked around the room and saw that the only furniture beside the bed and tiny table was a small chest of drawers and a small upholstered armchair. The chair was across the room from the table, with the control console now sitting on it.
"Will that work in my room without moving the antenna, Lester? This room's pretty small."
"This is your room, sir," Bradley replied. "Mine is even smaller."
A moment later, Bradley announced, "We're up, sir," and handed Castillo what looked very much like an ordinary wireless telephone handset.
"Why don't you sit, sir?" Bradley asked, nodding at the armchair.
When Castillo settled in the armchair, he learned that it was not only small but also uncomfortably close to the ground. His head was now as far off the ground as Max's, which Max interpreted to mean Castillo wanted to be kissed. Which he did.