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“Indeed, I did. Which reminds me . . .”
He handed Castillo an envelope.
“What’s this?”
“A thousand dollars.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. Thank Abuela.”
“Abuela?” Castillo asked, surprised.
“Like she says, she’s old but not brain-dead,” Fernando said. “She’s got a pretty good idea of what you do for a living. You wouldn’t believe how long that money—and that’s not all of it—has been in my bedside table waiting for you to need it. There’s also a couple of pistols in my Jepp case.”
“You didn’t tell her about this, for Christ’s sake?”
“Yeah. I promised her if anything ever happened I would tell her and I did. She said to tell you she’s praying for the both of us.”
“Jesus H. Christ!”
“Are you going to stand there blaspheming,” Fernando lisped, “or are you going to see if our passengers are comfy, their seat belts fastened, and the NO SMOKING light is on?”
He pointed out the side window.
Castillo bent over and looked out.
The three Delta Force communicators, all dressed in sports jackets and slacks, were almost to the airplane, dragging enormous, wheeled, hard-sided civilian suitcases behind them.
“You told Abuela?” he repeated. “Jesus H. Christ!”
Then he turned and went into the cabin and helped the communicators load their enormous suitcases aboard.
“Washington Center,” Castillo said into his microphone. “Lear Five-Zero-Seven-Five.”
“Seven-Five, Washington Center.”
“Lear Seven-Five passing through flight level two-five-zero for flight level two-nine-zero.”
“I have you on radar, Seven-Five.”
“Request direct Ronald Regan at flight level two-nine-zero. ”
“Washington Center clears Lear Five-Zero-Seven-Five to Ronald Regan Airport on present heading. Report to Washington Center on reaching flight level two-nine-zero on 127.2.”
“Understand maintain present course, report to Washington Center when at flight level two-nine-zero. Thank you.”
Castillo turned to Fernando and gave him a thumbs-up. He touched a small button on his headset that switched his microphone and earplug from TRANSMIT to INTERCOM.
“Okay, Fernando,” he said. “Tell me about Abuela being old but not brain-dead.”
“I wondered how long it was going to take you to get around to asking me about that,” Fernando said, smiling at him.
“Come on,” Castillo said, not pleasantly.
"It started right after we buried Grandpa . . .” Fernando began.
WINTER 1998
