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"Is she going to be all right?"
"She's going to live."
"Thank God!"
"Yeah, I did that. At the time Special Agent Schneider suffered her wounds, she was being transported in my car from her place of duty-the Masterson house-to a bar called the Kansas, where her boyfriend was waiting for her. The most likely scenario is that the bastards who whacked Masterson attacked said car in the belief that I was in it. I wasn't, but what the hell, since they were there, they stuck a Madsen through the driver's window, emptied the magazine, and succeeded in blowing away the driver, a really nice, twenty-year-old Marine named Staff Sergeant Roger Markham, by putting two, maybe three, rounds in his head, and getting Betty three times."
"They didn't get the boyfriend?" Fernando asked. "And who the hell is he?"
Castillo didn't reply. After a moment Fernando understood.
"No shit? When did that happen?"
"Last night. Right after she got here."
"Wow!" Fernando said. "You have been busy." He paused, and then went on: "So what do you need? Before you answer that: What about you? Who's covering your back?"
"I've got a Marine bodyguard," Castillo said. "And Ricardo and Jack Britton-remember him?"
"The black undercover cop from Philadelphia?"
"Yeah. Ricardo and Jack are sitting on Betty. Tomorrow-or no later than the day after tomorrow- she'll be on a plane to Philadelphia. She's going to need more surgery for her face and jaw. I've got the name of a good doctor at the University of Pennsylvania Hospital."
"Gringo, you don't want to send her commercial. If I leave at first light tomorrow in the Lear-"
"I thought about the Lear. You'd have to refuel at least twice."
"So what?"
"I've got an Air Force Gulfstream that can make it to Philadelphia with only one stop for fuel. It also has a hospital configuration. What I want you to do is send the Lear to Keesler Air Force Base in Mississippi."
"Why there?"
"Because that's where I'm taking Masterson's body and his wife and kids. And I think I will probably need some fast transportation."
"Okay."
"We're going to be wheels-up here no later than noon tomorrow, Buenos Aires time. In a Globemaster, it's about ten hours. There's a two-hour time difference, so we'll probably be on the ground there at eight, eight-thirty tomorrow night."
"I'll be there." "I said, 'Send the Lear.'"
"And I said, 'I'll be there.' Anything else, Gringo?"
"Yeah, don't call me that when your kids are listening."
Fernando chuckled. "I'll say a prayer for your girlfriend, Gringo."
"Have Abuela say one. She's probably got more influence than you do."
"Watch your back." Castillo got off the floor, stood by the bed, looked down at Special Agent Schneider for a long minute. Then he put his back to the wall, slid down, and punched another long series of numbers into the cellular.
Supervisory Special Agent Thomas McGuire of the United States Secret Service answered on the second ring: "Four-Zero-Seven-Seven."
"Tom?"
"Is that you, Charley?"
"Yeah."
