W Griffin - Hunters

"Is he dead?" Pevsner asked as he dropped to his knees beside Janos.

"Not as of thirty seconds ago," Castillo said.

Davidson came running up.

"All down, Colonel. Five of them," Davidson reported. "I knew goddamned well that goddamned ECO laundry truck was dirty. Now what?"

"Now you help me get this guy in the Traffik," Castillo ordered, "and then you get Kensington in the BMW and get the hell out of here. I'll take Janos to the safe house."

He looked across the garage, intending to signal Solez to get in the truck, and saw that the truck was already in motion but headed for the ECO van, not them.

"Help me get Janos in the car," Pevsner pleaded. "I've got to get him to a hospital. Please."

"Take a look at it, Alek, the Mercedes isn't going anywhere," Castillo said. "And we can't take him to a hospital with bullet wounds."

The Mercedes was apparently only lightly armored. While the cabin was mostly intact, the headlights and hood were bullet-riddled, two tires-clearly not run-flat models-were punctured and flattened, there was the smell of gasoline, and the front windshield and left side windows were crazed.

"What's going on down there?" Davidson asked, nodding in the direction of the ECO van.

"I think Delchamps is taking pictures and collecting DNA samples and whatever else he can find that looks useful."

"Look what I found," Davidson said, holding up a blued-steel garrote.

Castillo shook his head slowly at the sight.

Alfredo Munz came up.

"I need to talk to you, Alfredo," Pevsner said.

"Doesn't this speak for itself?" Munz said. "You've been betrayed, Alek, and you know by who."

"I had my suspicions," Pevsner said. "I didn't want to accept them."

"Would you have believed me if I told you?" Munz asked, almost sadly.

"Bradley, go tell Solez I need the Traffik right here right now," Castillo ordered.

At that moment, the Traffik started toward them.

"What we are going to do is load Janos in the Traffik and get him and us the hell out of here," Castillo said. "I'm surprised the cops aren't here already."

"The garage is soundproofed," Munz said, professionally. "And the poor girl in the cashier's office is going to cower in her little cubicle and do nothing whatever until she is sure we are gone and the police are here. And she will tell them that she saw nothing for fear we'll be back. We have another minute, perhaps, until someone finishes dinner and comes for their car."

Sergeant Robert Kensington came running up and dropped to his knees beside Janos.

"What's he doing?" Pevsner asked.

"Whatever he can to keep Janos alive," Munz said. "He's a medical soldier."

"Janos needs a hospital, a surgical doctor," Pevsner pursued.

"Who will ask questions," Munz said. "Kensington can treat him, Alek. He took a bullet from my shoulder."

"Your call, Alek," Castillo said, evenly. "You can stay here and wring your hands over Janos and deal with the cops or you can help us get him in the van. In thirty seconds, we're out of here."

Pevsner met Castillo's eyes for a moment, then moved to Janos, putting him in an erect position so that it would be easier to pick him up.

Thirty seconds later, Janos was stretched across the rear row of seats. Sergeant Kensington was applying a pressure dressing to Janos's side.

"Watch your feet," Delchamps called. "I grabbed two Madsens and they're still loaded."

Ten seconds after Castillo and Max got in the front seat and closed the door, Solez drove the Traffik to the exit ramp and took out the fragile barrier as he went up. Castillo heard an alarm bell start ringing.

Fifteen seconds later, they were in the one-hundred-thirty-kilometer-per-hour lane of Route 8 headed south.

Castillo turned to look out the rear window. The BMW was following them.

He looked at Delchamps.

"What else did you find at the laundry van?"

"I'll tell you later," Delchamps said. "If, as seems highly likely, we shortly find ourselves chatting with half a dozen of Pilar's finest law enforcement officers, it will be better if you don't know." [FIVE] Nuestra Pequena Casa Mayerling Country Club Pilar, Buenos Aires Province, Argentina 2155 13 August 2005 Castillo, Pevsner, and Delchamps leaned against the wall of one of the down-stairs bedrooms, watching as U.S. Army Special Forces medic Sergeant Robert Kensington finished bandaging Janos. The bed had been raised three feet off the floor on concrete blocks to make a perfectly serviceable operating table.

"Bullets are like booze," Kensington observed, professionally. "The larger the body-unless, of course, the bullets hit something important-the less effect they have. And we have here a very large body."

Janos, feeling the effects of three of Kensington's happy pills, agreed cheerfully. "Oh, yes," he said. "I am much larger than most men."

"Perhaps not as smart but indeed larger," Pevsner said, fondly.

Castillo and Delchamps chuckled.

Pevsner's cellular buzzed. He looked at its screen to see who was calling and then pointed to the French doors leading from the room to the backyard.

"May I?" he asked.

"Sure," Castillo said.

Pevsner left the room and walked to the center of the backyard with the cellular to his ear. The floodlights which normally illuminated the backyard had been turned off but there was still enough light from the house and the quincho so that he could be seen clearly. Castillo and Delchamps left the bedroom and stood on the tile-paved patio.

When Pevsner took the cellular from his ear, they walked to Pevsner.

"Anna and the children are pleased that I am impulsively taking them to our place in San Carlos de Bariloche for a little skiing," Pevsner said. "Anna is concerned that they will lose a few days in school, but under the circumstances…"

"I understand," Castillo said.

"They are en route to the Jorge Newbery airfield by car," Pevsner went on. "I have arranged for a Lear to fly us to Bariloche. Now, if I can further impose on your hospitality, there is something else I'd like you to do for me."

"Which is?" Castillo asked.

"I don't want Anna and the children to see Janos in his present condition, of course, and Janos-despite his present very good humor-is really not in shape to fly halfway across Argentina. There is a place not very far from here that is both safe and where he can recuperate in peace. What I would like to do is have the Ranger pick us up…"

"Not here," Castillo interrupted. "Sorry."

"Of course not," Pevsner said. "Please let me continue, my friend."

"Okay. Continue."

"There are eight polo fields at the Argentine Polo Association on the north of Pilar. Do you know where I mean?"

Castillo shook his head.

"Right off Route 8," Pevsner said. "I would like to rendezvous with the Ranger there on the most remote of the polo fields, take Janos to the place I mentioned, then have the Ranger take me to Jorge Newbery to meet my family. Would you carry us to the Polo Association?"

"When?"

"Right now, if that would be possible."

Castillo exhaled audibly.

Then he said: "Set it up, please, Edgar. Lead car, Traffik, trail car. Shooters in everything. I'll ride with Alek and Janos in the Traffik."

Delchamps nodded and walked toward the house.

"Thank you, friend Charley," Pevsner said. "I am greatly in your debt."

Castillo shrugged.

"Can I give him some money?" Aleksandr Pevsner asked.

Castillo looked at him and saw that he was looking toward the house where Kensington was leaning against the wall outside his "operating room," puffing on a cigar.

"You mean Sergeant Kensington?" Castillo asked.

"Your doctor. I am very grateful for what he did for Janos. I would like to show my appreciation."

"Giving Sergeant Kensington money-how do I put this?-would be like slipping your priest a few bucks for granting you absolution. Except that if you tried, Kensington would probably rearrange your face so you would remember not to make that particular faux pas again."