W Griffin - Hunters

"You should believe it, friend Alek, because I'm telling you. And you should also believe that the people who tried to ask Eric Kocian questions in Budapest were ex-Stasi, because I'm telling you that, too."

When Pevsner didn't reply, Castillo went on. "Why don't you ask your friends? The Cuban was Major Alejandro Vincenzo. He was once Castro's bodyguard. I don't have the names of the ex-Stasi people yet, but I'm working on it."

There was another long pause before Pevsner asked, "What was this fellow's name?"

Castillo repeated it, then spelled it for him.

"Where did you get this, Charley?" Pevsner asked.

"Sorry."

"You don't trust me?"

"Why should I? A minute ago, you told me we're no longer pals." There was another long pause, then Castillo went on: "Alfredo knows. But since he doesn't trust you enough to even give you a call to say, 'Hi, Alek! How they hanging?' I guess you're just going to have to guess where we got it."

"Alfredo has no reason to distrust me and neither do you," Pevsner said, sharply.

"Well, truth to tell, I trust you. Up to a point. But Alfredo obviously isn't so sure. Otherwise, he would have been in touch."

"I want to talk to Alfredo, Charley."

"Charley? I thought I was Colonel Ex-Friend."

"I want to talk to Alfredo, Charley," Pevsner repeated.

"Well, maybe when I'm down there something can be worked out."

"I mean right now."

"Give my regards to the family, Alek. And watch your back. You don't have as many friends as you think you do." [TWO] Midland International Airport Midland, Texas 1455 12 August 2005 "I've got it, Dick," Castillo said.

Miller raised both of his hands, fingers spread, to show that he was relinquishing control of the aircraft.

They had been cleared for a straight-in approach to runway 34R.

They could see the airfield clearly.

He really hated to turn it over me, Castillo thought. At least, subconsciously. He knows it wouldn't be safe for him to land with only one good leg. Dick really loves to fly. I'm not like that, never have been. I do it because that's what I'm supposed to do and I try hard to do it well, because the alternative to doing it well is not pleasant to contemplate.

I think I should be able to sit this thing down without any trouble. The approach is low and slow, and 34R is 9,501 feet long and 51 feet wide.

But Fernando was right. I really shouldn't be flying this by myself with only a few hours of on-the-job training.

The approach control operator's voice in his headset brought him to attention.

"Gulfstream Three-Seven-Nine," the controller said, "be advised that an Air Force F-15D has just begun his takeoff roll on 34R."

Before Castillo could open his mouth, Miller responded to the controller: "Thank you. We have him in sight."

Ahead of them, a dull-silver-painted Air Force fighter was moving with ever-increasing speed down the runway. It lifted off and almost immediately raised its nose so steeply that the entire aircraft seemed to be under them. The fuselage-just wide enough to hold the cockpit-was mounted on the leading edge of the swept-back wing between the intakes for the engines. There were two vertical stabilizers mounted on the rear of the wing.

The pilot kicked in the afterburners and the plane began to climb at an astonishing speed.

"Look at that sonofabitch go!" Miller said, softly, in awe.

"What's a D?" Castillo asked.

"The trainer," Miller replied. "Two seats."

"I wonder what it's doing at Midland-Odessa?" Castillo said, then added, "I think this is the time we put the wheels down."

Ten seconds later, Miller reported, "Gear down and locked." As Castillo taxied the Gulfstream up to the parking ramp before the Avion business-aviation building, Miller pointed out the window.

"Why do I think that's why that F-15D was here?" he asked.

Colonel Jacob Torine, USAF, wearing a yellow polo shirt and khaki slacks, was walking from the building toward them.

"Go let him in, Dick," Castillo said. "I'll shut it down."

Ninety seconds later, Colonel Torine stuck his head in the cockpit.

"I don't recall giving you permission, Colonel, to play by yourself in our airplane."

"And I didn't know the Air Force let old men like you even ride in airplanes like that F-15D," Castillo said, offering Torine his hand.

"Only if they're full-bull colonels," Torine said. "You think that hard landing you just made did any serious damage?"

"That was a greaser, Jake, and you know it."

"Beginner's luck," Torine said. "Agnes called me and said you were headed out here and probably to Gaucholand. She didn't tell me why."

"We found out who sent the money to the AALs in Pennsylvania to buy their bomb shelter," Castillo said. "It turns out he went to Texas A amp;M with Fernando."

"Interesting," Torine said. "I guess that explains why Fernando-and the three Secret Service guys in the Avion building-are here. What happens next?"

"I spent most of the trip out here thinking about that," Castillo said. "I have an idea. It's probably not a very good idea, but it's all I could come up with."

"And are you going to share this not very good idea with me?"

Castillo finished unstrapping himself and stood up. He met Torine's eyes. "Yeah. And after-to use fighter jock terminology-I'm shot down in flames, you can tell me where I went wrong."

"I don't know," Torine replied. "Your flying skills leave something to be desired, but every once in a good while you have a reasonably good idea."

Castillo motioned that they go into the fuselage.

Miller was sitting on the edge of one of the left forward-facing leather seats near the door. Doherty was sitting across the aisle from him. Delchamps and Yung were sprawled on the couches. They made room for Torine and Castillo.

"It's getting a little toasty in here, Ace," Delchamps said.

"An air conditioner is on the way," Castillo said, then added: "You don't know Jake, do you?"

"No," Delchamps replied, "but I know he's all right. When Two-Gun Yung here saw him coming, he raised his eyes to heaven and said, 'Thank you, God!'"

Miller and Torine laughed.

"I'm about to get the others in here," Castillo said. "But before I do, Inspector Doherty, I want you to understand that what I'm going to propose is probably-hell, certainly-illegal. I don't expect you to go along with it. But I do expect you to keep your mouth shut. When I want your opinion, I'll ask. Clear?"

Doherty, tight-lipped, nodded.

Castillo nodded back, then went to the door.

A ground crew was installing both an auxiliary power unit and an air-conditioning hose.

Castillo raised his voice to be heard over the tug pulling the unit. "Make sure that's working," he ordered. "We're going to have a meeting in here that may take sometime."

Then he looked at the Avion building and waved his arm. He couldn't see Lopez or the Secret Service agents, but a moment later his cousin pushed through the door, followed by three men in gray suits, and all started walking toward the Gulfstream.

When everyone was aboard, Castillo closed the stair door.

"I know it's a little crowded in here," he said, "but I'm pretty sure it's not bugged."

This earned him a dutiful laugh.

"I wish I could stand up all the way up in here," he said, earning a second polite laugh.

After a moment to collect his thoughts, he went on: "Okay, what follows is classified Top Secret Presidential, by authority of a Presidential Finding. You will never disclose anything you hear or learn in this cabin to anyone at any time without my personal permission. Everybody understand that?"

He looked at each man in turn until he got a nod of acknowledgment.

"Some of you are aware that American Muslims in the Aari-Teg mosque in Philadelphia-a group with known ties to terrorists-have purchased a farm near Philadelphia where they will seek shelter when a suitcase nuclear device, called a SADM, is detonated…" "…And," Castillo wound up his opening comments, "now that you know the manner in which I intend to deal with Mr. Kenyon would drive just about any civil libertarian up the wall, I'm going to give you ninety seconds to make up your mind whether you're in or out.