W. Griffin - The Hostage

He stopped the video and looked at Darby.

"The Yukon now has Argentine plates on it, Charley," Alex Darby said. "And Argentine documents in the glove compartment."

"How less suspicious will the Argentine plates make it-?" Castillo heard a whirring noise, and realized the printer was already printing the stills.

"Not as unsuspicious as Uruguayan plates," Darby admitted. "But I just couldn't put my hands on Uruguayan plates on such short notice. And anyway, Uruguayan plates have the province on them. You can't tell where an Argentine vehicle is from from the plates."

"Okay," Castillo said. "Bradley, keep your mouth shut if you get stopped or anything. Ricardo's Texican, speaks pretty good porteno Spanish, can probably pass for a Uruguayan, and probably can get away with explaining you as his anemic cousin."

"Yes, sir."

"The way we're going to do this is that you're going to drive the Yukon to Tacuarembo as soon as this meeting breaks up. It's about two hundred twenty miles, so figure five hours, six if the roads are bad, but it's a real highway as far as Tacuarembo-I flew up it this morning-so we may get lucky. If you leave here by twelve-thirty, that should put you in the city by six-thirty at the latest. There will still be some light until about half past five. The priority, obviously, is to get the fuel and weapons up there safely, even if that takes you until midnight. Having said that, the sooner you get there, the better. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," Corporal Bradley said. "Highest road speed consistent with safety."

"And share the driving," Castillo ordered, and thought, At least Ricardo will be driving half the time. "Change over every hour."

"Yes, sir," Bradley almost barked.

You're being unfair. He may look like an escapee from the high school cheerleading squad, but he did get the Yukon here, didn't he? And the fuel and weapons past the border guards?

"In the best of all possible worlds," Castillo continued, "you would get to Tacuarembo at, say, quarter to five, even a little earlier. That would give you time to find the right road out of town, and then to find the field. You'll have a map. Getting from the road to the field is the problem. Reconnoiter it on foot, make sure, operative word sure, that you won't get the truck stuck in the mud. If we get really lucky and you can drive to the field, dump the fuel barrels and the pump. Not the weapons. Just the fuel and the pump. And then go find the Hotel Carlos Gardel in Tacuarembo. It shouldn't be hard; it's the only one. Decide for yourself if you want to take the chance of leaving the weapons in the Yukon or taking them and the other stuff into the hotel."

"You don't want us to just stay in the field overnight?" Solez asked.

"If some gaucho rides up on the fuel, he might figure someone left it there to fuel a tractor or something. He would get curious to find two guys in a Yukon."

"Okay."

"If you can't get the Yukon in there, we'll just have to land the chopper on the road in the morning and refuel it there."

"Why do you have to refuel it at all?" Britton asked. "I mean, you went up there and back-"

"Because I'm going directly to Jorge Newbery from Shangri-La," Castillo explained. "To do that I'm going to need a full load of fuel. Torine and Fernando are going to stay here-the Lear is-until they get word that we have Lorimer in the bag. We should know whether that worked by, say, twenty-one hundred tomorrow night. When-if-they get the word, they immediately go wheels-up to Jorge Newbery.

"The next morning-I'm going to have to wait until it's light to take off-I'm going to fly nap of the earth, under, I devoutly hope, any radar. I don't want to try that in the dark with the equipment on the Ranger."

He looked at Munz.

"Tell Alex that whoever sold him the avionics on that chopper screwed him. And that, in the spirit of friendship, I'll send him a list of what he should have."

"Somebody cheated Alex?" Munz said. "That wasn't smart, was it?"

"Who's Alex?" Darby asked.

"You don't want to know," Castillo said.

"And if things don't go well, Charley?" Torine asked.

"We'll have to play that by ear," Castillo said. "Maybe stay one day and try it again. Or abort this operation and think of something else."

Torine nodded.

"If it works, and you go to Buenos Aires, check out of the Four Seasons."

"Check everybody out?" Torine asked.

"Britton, me, and you and Fernando," Castillo said. "Kranz and Kensington will have to stay here long enough to get the weapons, the gear, and the radios back to Buenos Aires. And then get with Darby and Santini and get it to the States through the embassy. So they'll need rooms for a day or two. Then they'll go back to Bragg commercial. Is getting them tickets going to be a problem, Alex?"

Darby shook his head.

"Good. Okay, Fernando and Torine will go to Jorge Newbery, check the weather, file a flight plan, etcetera, and be ready to go the minute I get there in the Ranger with Lorimer and Yung and Munz. That's where you come in, mi coronel-Alex said you'd be helpful-"

"Who the hell is Alex?" Darby asked again. Castillo ignored the question.

"If I'm able to reason with Lorimer," he went on, "that is, convince him the only way he's going to stay alive is by going with me, fine. He may even have his American and UN passports in his safe. If he gives me trouble, if I have to put him to sleep-Yung, a man of many unexpected talents, tells me he'll have no trouble getting into his safe-I think we can count on his Lebanese passport for sure. But if he is knocked out, how do we get him through immigration and into the Lear?"

"I can arrange that," Munz said. "No problem."

"And I just come back to Montevideo, right?" Yung asked.

"No. You're going to the States with us," Castillo said.

"What about my investigation, my files? I'd really like to stay here."

"This is not open for debate, Yung," Castillo said. "You're going with us. Your cover as just one more FBI agent will be blown with the ambassador the moment he hears what happened. So this afternoon, pack a bag with enough clothes for a couple of days and give it to Fernando. A small bag."

"What the hell happens to my files?"

"You are tenacious, aren't you?" Castillo said sharply. "But that is, in fact, a good question. Mr. Howell, this afternoon-when you go with him to his apartment-Mr. Yung is going to give you some files, which, as of this moment, are classified Top Secret-Presidential. You will find someplace to keep them until I decide how to get them to the States. Maybe in the hands of a diplomatic courier."

"And what happens to my files in the States?"

"Whatever the President decides to do with them."

"Which means they disappear down the black hole of diplomacy?"

"I just changed my mind," Castillo said. "Colonel Torine, will you go with Howell and Yung to Yung's apartment and take possession of Yung's files? That way, we can take them home with us."

Torine gave him a thumbs-up signal.

Castillo nodded. "The subject is closed, Yung. You understand?"

Yung exhaled in resigned disgust.

"Okay," Castillo said. "Now to the assault team. Those two"-he pointed to Kranz and Kensington- "have some very rudimentary skills in that area. So they'll be on it. But that means they won't be on the radios. You can set them up, can't you, so all someone has to do is turn them on and talk?"

"No problem, sir," Sergeant Kensington said.

"One goes with us. That leaves the question of where to set up the other one. Here? Can you just aim the antenna out the window, the way you did in the Four Seasons?"

"I think so, sir. I'll have to try it."

"Okay, but if Miller, or anyone else in the States, tries to talk to you, it fails, right? I don't want anybody trying to micromanage this operation."