"That night, I asked Anna whether she thought I had made a mistake about you. She thought not. She said, 'He's very much like you.'"
"I thought you said she liked me."
"Why do you always have to mock me?"
"Because it always pisses you off?"
Pevsner, smiling despite himself, shook his head.
"The next morning, you met Alfredo on your way to where Pavel Primakov's people had left Masterson's body."
"Whose people?"
"Colonel-I've heard he's actually a colonel general-Pavel Primakov is the FSB's senior man for South America. You did know they were responsible for the murder of Masterson, didn't you?"
"I had no proof and no names. But there was no question in Billy Kocian's mind that the FSB was responsible, trying to cover Putin's involvement in the Iraqi oil-for-food cesspool."
"The proof of that would seem to be what they tried to do with Kocian on the Szabadsag hid, wouldn't you say?"
An attempt to kidnap-or, failing that, murder-Eric Kocian on the Liberty Bridge in Budapest had been thwarted by his bodyguard, Sandor Tor, and by Max, whose gleaming white teeth had caused severe muscular trauma to one of the triggermen's arms.
"Point taken," Castillo said.
"Where is the old man now?"
"In Washington."
"The FSB wants him dead-to get ahead of myself-about as much as they do you."
"The last time I talked to Billy, he complained that he was being followed around by deaf men wearing large hearing aids who kept talking into their lapels."
It took a moment for Pevsner to form the mental picture. Then he smiled. "Good men, I hope."
"The best. Secret Service. Most of them are on, or were on, the President's protection detail."
"Getting back where we were, friend Charley," Pevsner went on, "I asked Alfredo what he thought of you and his response was unusual. He said that he felt you were a lot more competent than your looks-and your behavior-suggested, and that, strangely, he felt you were one of the very few men he trusted instinctively.
"You proved your competence almost immediately by finding Lorimer on his estancia, getting there with your men before Major Vincenzo and his men did-and they had been looking for him for some time-and then, of course, by effectively dealing with Vincenzo."
"And losing one of my men in the process. And getting Alfredo wounded. Let's not forget that."
Pevsner ignored the comment.
"And then there are two more things."
"Keep it up," Castillo said, raising his glass in a mock toast, then taking a large sip of the single-malt. "Flattery will get you anywhere."
"What motivates you to always be a wise guy, friend Charley?" Pevsner asked, exasperated, but went on before Castillo could reply. "First, when Alfredo told you he thought I was trying to dispose of him, you took care of him and his family, knowing that was-if the situation was what you thought it was-in defiance of me.
"I was annoyed-very disappointed-with you at the time by that, and worse, by the way you threatened me with turning the CIA loose on me again unless I loaned you my helicopter for your Uruguayan operation. I don't like being threatened."
"Would you break out in tears if I told you that you have the reputation for being a ruthless sonofabitch?" Castillo said. "Helping Alfredo was a no-brainer for me, Alek. I knew that Alfredo hadn't betrayed you-"
"How did you know that?" Pevsner interrupted.
"We were talking a moment ago about there being men you instinctively trust. And you do have that ruthless sonofabitch reputation, Alek. Who should I have trusted? A man like Alfredo, or a man with a reputation like yours? Who, incidentally, had a known ruthless sonofabitch whispering in his ear?"
"And that brings us to that treasonous scum, doesn't it?"
"Does it?"
"A traitor who told my good friend Lieutenant Colonel Yevgeny Komogorov that I was going to meet with you in the Sheraton in Pilar, knowing full well-"
"Well, that didn't happen, did it?"
"If it were not for you, Janos and I would be dead."
"True."
"And I am grateful."
"Which gratitude you demonstrated by having Howard Kennedy and Viktor Zhdankov beaten to death-slowly, apparently-in Punta del Este. After I told you I wanted Kennedy alive so that I could ask him a couple of dozen questions."
"Howard knew too much about me for him to continue to live. And I could not permit it to get around that anyone who attempted to assassinate me would live very long."
After a moment, Castillo asked: "Are we getting near the end of our walk down memory lane, Alek? I'd really like to know who wants me whacked."
Pevsner ignored the question. He took a long, thoughtful sip of his drink.
"And now you are here, friend Charley, presumably to ask me something, or for something. I wanted you to know where you and I stand before you do that."
"Okay. Cutting to the chase, a DEA agent by the name of Timmons was kidnapped in Paraguay. So far as I know, he's still alive. As quietly as possible, I want him back. Alive."
"'A DEA agent'?" Pevsner parroted, incredulously.
"A DEA agent named Timmons," Castillo repeated.
"How did you get involved in something like that?"
"How would you guess?"
"The President of the United States is involving himself personally in rescuing one drug enforcement agent?"
Castillo didn't answer.
"And how did you think I could help?"
"I thought maybe you could get word through mutual acquaintances to whoever is holding him that if Agent Timmons were to miraculously reappear unharmed, either in Asuncion or somewhere in Argentina, I would not only be very happy but would be out of here within twenty-four hours. Otherwise, I'm going to have to come after him, which would make everybody unhappy, including me."
"I think I'm missing something here," Pevsner said. "You don't really think you can load a half-dozen men on my helicopter and just take this man away from these people?"
"Your helicopter is not in my contingency plans, Alek, but thank you just the same."
"Do you even have an idea who has this man? Or where?"
"I'm working on that."
"Or who they are? I don't think they're liable to be Bolivian drug dealers."
"Why would you say that?"
"My information is that Major Vincenzo-who was in charge of dealing with the drug people for Colonel Primakov-has already been replaced by another officer from the Cuban Direccion General de Inteligencia, as have the ex-Stasi people who you also eliminated in Uruguay."
"I'm not surprised."
"You can't be seriously considering dealing with people like that with a handful of men, no more than you can load on my helicopter."
"Weren't you listening when I said your helicopter is not in my contingency plans?"
"Then what?"
"Can you keep a secret, friend Alek?"
"You dare ask me that?"
"Yes or no?"
"My God, Charley!"
"If you'll give me Boy Scout's Honor"-he demonstrated what that was by holding up his right hand with the center three fingers extended; Pevsner looked at him in confusion-"that's Boy Scout's Honor, Alek. Very sacred. Meaning that you really swear what I'm about to tell you will not leave this room."
Castillo waved his right hand with the fingers extended and gestured with his left for Pevsner to make the same gesture. Pevsner looked at him in disbelief, then offered a somewhat petulant philosophic observation.
"Maybe you behave in this idiotic and childish manner to confuse people," he said, "to appear to be a fool so that no one will believe you're as competent as you are."
"Yes or no, Alek?"
Pevsner raised his right hand, extended three fingers, and waved it angrily in Castillo's face.
"Thank you," Castillo said, solemnly. "Alek, you're a betting man. Tell me, who do you think would come out on top between Senor Whateverhisname is-Vincenzo's replacement-and his stalwart men and two Delta Force A-Teams dropping in on them with four helicopters armed with 4,000-round-per-minute machine guns?"
Pevsner looked at him for a long moment.