W Griffin - The outlaws

Kocian reached over to the table and pushed the phone base's SPEAKERPHONE button.

"?Hola?" a male voice answered.

"With whom am I speaking?" Kocian asked in passable Spanish.

"Who are you calling?"

"I'm trying to get Carlos Castillo. He doesn't seem to be answering his other telephone…"

"You have the wrong number, Senor," the man said and broke the connection.

"Sonofabitch hung up on me!" Kocian said, handing the receiver back to Tor. Tor, turning away so that Kocian would not see his smile, punched in the number again, waited for the ring, and then hit the SPEAKERPHONE button.

"?Hola?"

"My name is Eric Kocian, I need to speak to Carlos Castillo, and don't tell me I have the wrong damn number!"

"How are you, Herr Kocian?" the male voice said politely. "Sorry I didn't recognize your voice."

"I should have given you my name," Kocian said. "Paul Sieno, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"I thought I recognized your voice when you told me I had the wrong number," Kocian said. "Is Carlos handy?"

"Actually, sir, he's not."

"Where is he? Can you give me a better number?"

"I don't have one, sir."

"That's unusual, isn't it?"

"Charley's fly-fishing with his girlfriend in Patagonia, Herr Kocian."

"What did you say?"

"Charley went fishing with his girlfriend, Herr Kocian. In Patagonia. He left word not to bother him unless the sun went out."

"What if I told you this is very important, Paul? And what girlfriend would that be?"

"I can get word to him, Herr Kocian. Maybe tonight, and certainly by morning."

"And the girlfriend?"

There was a long pause, then Paul said, "Herr Kocian, if you don't know about Sweaty, I'm sorry, but you're not going to hear it from me."

"Are you telling me he's drunk and off in the woods with some floozy? Some floozy named Sweaty? That's what you said her name is, right? Sweaty?"

"Well, I can tell you he's probably not drunk, because Sweaty doesn't like him to drink too much. And that I can get word to him to call you, probably tonight, and certainly by morning. Your AFC's working, right?"

"As a matter of fact, Paul, my miraculous AFC communications device is not working at all. The reason I called on the telephone is because nobody we tried to call on it to find Carlos answered."

"Sir, we're not on twenty-four/seven anymore. Just once in the morning-oh-four-twenty-hundred Zulu time-and again in the afternoon at sixteen-twenty Zulu. I'm surprised no one told you."

"By Zulu, you mean Greenwich?"

"Yes, sir."

"Your AFC is working?"

"Yes, sir. I can have it up in a minute."

"There's a document I want Carlos to see. I want to send it in the highest encryption possible."

"Yes, sir, give me a minute to turn on my AFC."

"You can get it to him?"

"In the morning, maybe even tonight."

"I want you and Mrs. Sieno to have a look at it, to see if you can make more sense from it than I can. And tell Carlos what you think."

"Yes, sir."

"It's not addressed to Carlos, Paul. It's addressed to someone else. I don't want that party to see it until after Carlos does."

"This sounds important, Herr Kocian."

"I don't know. It may well be. Is Herr Delchamps available?"

"He's here, but he went out for dinner."

"Show this document to him, too, please, with the same caveat that I don't want the addressee to see it until Carlos has."

"Got it," Sieno said. And then, "There goes the AFC, Mr. Kocian. It shows you as online. I'm ready to receive. Send the message." "It came through fine, Herr Kocian," Paul Sieno said over the encrypted AFC not quite two minutes later. "What the hell is it all about?"

"I don't know, Paul."

"Where did you get it?"

"A Russian who said he was Colonel Solomatin was waiting for me in the lobby of the Gellert when I came in about an hour ago."

"I will be damned! I'll have this in Charley's hands just as quick as I can."

"Thank you, Paul."

"Herr Kocian, I'm sorry I hung up on you before."

"No apology necessary. My best regards to Mrs. Sieno."

"Will do," Sieno said, then gave the AFC the order: "Break it down."

The green LED indicating the AFC was connected to another AFC device at Encryption Level One went out. [TWO] Club America Miami International Airport, Concourse F Miami, Florida 2205 4 February 2007 Roscoe J. Danton of The Washington Times-Post was not in a very good mood. Eagle-eyed officials of the Transportation Security Administration had detected a Colibri butane cigar lighter and a nearly new bottle of Boss cologne in his carry-on luggage and triumphantly seized both.

The discovery had then triggered a detailed examination of the rest of the contents of his carry-on luggage. This had uncovered a Bic butane cigarette lighter in his laptop case and three boxes of wooden matches from the Old Ebbitt Grill in his briefcase/overnight bag. Two small boxes of matches, he was told he should have known, was the limit.

With the proof before them that they had in their hands if not an Al Qaeda terrorist cleverly disguised as a thirty-eight-year-old Presbyterian from Chevy Chase, Maryland, then at the very least what they categorized as an "uncooperative traveler," the TSA officers had then thoroughly examined his person to make sure that he wasn't trying to conceal anything else-a rocket-propelled grenade launcher, for example-in his ear canal or another body orifice.

With no RPG or other potential weapon found, he was finally freed.

Danton-convinced that his near crimes and misdemeanors had probably caused him to miss Aerolineas Argentinas Flight 1007, nonstop service to Buenos Aires-had then run all the way down Concourse F to Gate 17 hoping to be proven wrong. There he learned that "technical difficulties" of an unspecified nature were going to delay the departure of Flight 1007 for at least two hours.

As he walked the long way back down the concourse to the Club America, he recalled that C. Harry Whelan had called Miami International Airport "America's Token Third World Airport."

Say what you want about Harry-and there's a lot, all bad, to be said about Harry-but the sonofabitch does have a way with words.

Which is probably why he's always on Wolf News.

I wonder what they pay him for that?

Roscoe found a seat from which he could have a good view of one of the television sets hanging from the ceiling. Then he made three trips to the bar, ultimately returning to his seat with two glasses of Scotch whisky, a glass of water, a glass of ice cubes, a bowl of mixed nuts, and a bowl of potato chips. Then he settled in for the long wait.

When he looked up at the television, he saw C. Harry Whelan in conversation with Andy McClarren, the anything-but-amiable star of Wolf News's most popular program, The Straight Scoop.

The screen was split. On the right, McClarren and Whelan were shown sitting at a desk looking at a television monitor. On the left was what they were watching: at least two dozen police cars and ambulances, almost all with their emergency lights flashing, looking as if they were trying to get past some sort of gate.

A curved sign mounted over the gate read WELCOME TO FORT DETRICK.

Their passage was blocked by three U.S. Army HMMWVs, each mounting a.50 caliber machine gun. HMMWV stood for "high-mobility multipurpose wheeled vehicle." With the acronym a little hard to pronounce, the trucks were therefore commonly referred to as "Humvees."

"That was the scene earlier today at Fort Detrick, Harry," Andy McClarren said. "Can you give us the straight scoop on what the hell was going on?"

You're not supposed to say naughty words on television, Roscoe thought as he sipped his Scotch, but I guess if you're Andy McClarren, host of the most-watched television news show, you can get away with a "hell" every once in a while.