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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."
"Got it, sir," Kensington said.
"How big is the antenna?" Howell asked.
"A little larger than a satellite TV antenna," Kensington answered. "Eighteen, twenty inches in diameter."
"There's a backyard at my house," Howell said. "Fenced in. Would that work?"
"Where's your house?" Castillo asked.
"In Carrasco, not far from Yung's apartment."
"Okay, you are now our base station radio operator. Kensington will go with you, set it up, and show you how it works."
