W. Griffin - The shooters

"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.

"You're serious," Pevsner said. It was a statement, not a question.

"And other interesting lethal devices," Castillo continued. "Said force backed up by a hundred or so gendarmes argentinos who want not only to get back two of their number also kidnapped by these people, but also to seek righteous vengeance for two of their number who were murdered."

Pevsner looked at him intently.

Castillo nodded knowingly and went on: "And their orders will be-I know, because their commanding officer told me, and I believe him-to leave as many bodies scattered over the terrain as possible and then to blow everything up."

Pevsner looked at him curiously but didn't say anything.

Castillo answered the unspoken question.

"He wants to send the message that kidnapping or murdering members of the gendarmeria is unacceptable behavior and is punished accordingly."

"Your president is going to do all this over one drug enforcement agent?"

"A lot of people, Alek, and I unequivocally count myself among them," Castillo said evenly, "believe in the work of these drug enforcement agents and do not consider them expendable."

"You're a soldier, friend Charley. You know men die in wars."

"We don't shoot our own men in the back. Or write them off when they're captured."

"My God, there's no way something like this could happen without it getting out."

"And that is why I was hoping you would pass the message through your mutual acquaintances to these bastards that I would much prefer that Timmons miraculously reappear unharmed instead of me having to come after him."

"That is wishful thinking. I am surprised you even suggested it."

"All they can say is 'no.' Give it a shot, please."

"I will not be talking to mutual acquaintances about this man," Pevsner said. "It would not only be a waste of my breath, but-and I'm surprised you didn't think of this, too-it would warn them that action is contemplated."

Castillo shrugged, hoping it suggested Pevsner's refusal didn't matter.