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“My God, Charley!” he said. “But thank you. What do I owe you?”
“My pleasure, sir. I was happy to do it.”
“We’ll argue about that later,” Hall said. “Right now all I want to say is that I’m glad you had second thoughts about trying to meet with Pevsner, too.”
“Sir?”
“He’s really a dangerous character, Charley. I asked Joel Isaacson if he knew anything about him and got a five-minute lecture. All frightening.”
“He’s a frightening man,” Charley agreed.
“The FBI is sending me his dossier,” Hall went on, and then he thought aloud: “Which I should have had by now. Anyway, I’m glad you missed him.”
“I met with Pevsner, sir.”
“You met with him?”
“Yes, sir. I’ve got a long story you’re going to have a hard time believing. I’m not sure I believe it myself.”
“Well, let’s hear it, Charley.”
“Sir,” Miller asked, “would you like me to make myself scarce?”
Hall looked at him.
“No,” he said after a moment. “It was your filing, after all, that started this whole thing.” He paused. “And I have the feeling that what one of you knows, so does the other. So, no, Major Miller, don’t make yourself scarce.”
He looked at Charley.
“The bottom line,” Castillo began, “is that he said he didn’t steal the 727 . . .”
“Which is precisely what one would expect him to say,” Hall said.
“. . . and that he’s going to help us find it,” Charley said. “In exchange for which he wants you to use your influence to get the government to . . . reduce the attention it’s paying to him.”
The telephone rang. Castillo looked at Hall for guidance.
“Answer it,” Hall said.
Charley walked to the telephone and picked it up and said, “Hello.”
He was silent a moment, then replied, “Yes, it is—
"The Drei Hussaren—
"No. Wait.”
He patted his chest, and finding no pen, gestured to Miller to give him something to write with. Hall beat Miller to it.
“Okay,” Charley said. “Now I need some paper.”
Miller picked up The Washington Post from the couch and handed it to Castillo.
“Okay,” Castillo said into the receiver. “Shoot.”
He made notes on the newsprint, then said, “Let me make sure I have that right. I spell Able-Baker-Echo-Charley-Hotel -Echo. Right? Hello? Hello? Shit.”
He put the phone back in the cradle.
