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"Only that I would be here this morning, and we would need a secure, discreet place to meet with maybe a dozen people."
"So I arranged for this, Mr. Castillo," Howell said. "I've used it before. I came earlier and swept it."
"And I asked him to stay to see what you wanted to do," Darby said. "This is his country, Charley. He knows it."
Castillo nodded.
"And what about Corporal Bradley? Did Montvale call him, too?"
"Can Howell hear this?"
Castillo thought that over for a moment, then offered Howell his hand.
"Welcome to Castillo's traveling circus, Mr. Howell," Castillo said. "This operation is authorized by a Presidential Finding. The classification is Top Secret- Presidential. What we're going to do is take a man, an American citizen named Jean-Paul Lorimer, who is here in Uruguay-more or less legally-as Jean-Paul Bertrand, on a Lebanese passport, from his estancia in Tacuarembo Province to the States. Whether or not he's enthusiastic about being repatriated, and without going through the usual immigration departure procedures. Getting the picture?"
Howell nodded. "Can I ask what this guy's done?"
"He has been a very naughty boy," Castillo said. "There are people who would like to see him dead. So we have to do this before they get to him."
"Okay," Howell said.
Castillo turned to Darby. "Okay, Alex. What about Bradley? What's he doing here?"
"Well, you wanted two hundred gallons of fuel for the helicopter," Darby said. "The question-this is before I got the call from Bob, you understand-was where to get it without having questions asked. That meant I'd have to get it in Argentina. Getting the fuel was no problem; getting it over here was. I knew you didn't want questions raised around the embassy, ei
ther. The embassy routinely trucks stuff over here, but I thought there might be questions asked if I tried to get on the Busquebus with four fifty-five-gallon barrels of jet fuel- plus the other stuff-in the back of a pickup truck.
"So that meant it would have to be driven over here. That's a long drive, all the way up to Gualeguaychu, across the bridge over the Rio Uruguay into Uruguay, and then all the way down here. But I didn't think there would be many questions asked at the border if there were CD plates on the truck.
"Better yet, on a Yukon being driven by a Marine guard. They often make freight runs over here by road, so I knew they had a Yukon. So I called the gunny and told him you needed a quiet favor. I needed to take four drums of fuel and some other stuff to you in Uruguay. Would it fit in his Yukon and would he loan it-and a driver-to you?
"For some reason-maybe your charming personality-the gunny likes you. So he said, 'Sure, and for a driver, guess who's standing right here in my office, just back from the States?'"
"Corporal Lester Bradley, my stalwart Marine bodyguard," Castillo said, shaking his head.
"Who had already heard more than he should," Darby said. "I figured it was better to use him than go through the hassle-"
"Yeah, and what the hell, I just might need a bodyguard," Castillo said. "Okay, let's go look at the home movies." Sergeant Seymour Kranz was sitting at one side of the table. A laptop computer was in front of him. There was a rat's nest of cables attaching the computer to a small video camera, to a small color inkjet printer, and to the control panel of the Sony television on the wall.
"Please don't tell me that the Minicam batteries were dead, or that Yung forgot to take the cover off the lens," Castillo said.
"No, sir," Sergeant Seymour Kranz replied. "It worked better than I would have thought."
"And we're set up, right, so I can push the right button-which you will show me-and can make stills as we watch it?"
"Yes, sir," Kranz said, handing Castillo the control as Castillo sat down beside him. "And it's already loaded into the computer, so you can send it to Washington or Bragg if you want to."
"Let's hold off on that," Castillo said, and then: "Okay, guys. Here's the tape we shot of the target this morning. I could only make one low-level pass over the house itself, so I'm sure I missed something important. Make a note of what else you would like to see. When I drop Kranz off up there this afternoon, I'll have another shot at it." He paused. "Are we going to have to turn the lights off to see this? Well, let's find out."
The huge television screen began to show the Uruguayan countryside, and then approached a city.
"That's the town of Tacuarembo. Not much of a town. The road to the estancia is at the top right of the picture. A quarter of a mile or so out of town, the paving stops. The roads, according to the maps, are 'improved,' which means anything from paved with stone to mud. We better count on mud; this is the rainy season."
"Now there's Estancia Shangri-La itself. Shot through the soup from about twenty-five hundred feet. I think- I hope-the stuff Yung shot when I made the low-level pass will give us a hell of a lot more detail. But you can see the house. Notice the interior courtyard, and the outbuildings."
"Now this is the road leading away from Shangri-La. In other words, farther away from Tacuarembo. What I was looking for was a place where we could set up Kranz's radio today. And tomorrow, where we could form up, and where I can leave the chopper while we're making the snatch. I went five miles or so in this direction and didn't find one. It all looked like swamp-maybe because of the rain-or it was full of rocks or trees, or both." "So I went over here. Much closer to where we're going. You can't tell it from the air, but the maps show that it's a hundred or so feet higher than the buildings at the estancia.I'm sure I can get in there without being seen, and I don't think anyone will be able to tell the difference between a chopper flying overhead and me landing. And… where the hell is it? There it is. A field without rocks or trees, and it looks as if it drains pretty well." "And here, a half mile, give or take, from the field is another 'improved' road. You have to go all the way back to Tacuarembo to get on it. But that's what, Bradley, you're going to have to take to get to it. You'll take Ricardo Solez with you. I don't know what the hell to do about the damned CD plates on the Yukon…"
He stopped the video and looked at Darby.
