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“I think it’s entirely possible that certain people—certain of your countrymen, as a matter of fact—would like it a lot better if you had one of those Indian beauty marks you’re always talking about in the center of your forehead.”
There was a perceptible pause before Pevsner replied.
“My countrymen? What exactly is that supposed to mean?”
“One of the people who were there when Alfredo shot himself cleaning his pistol was a member of the Cuban Dirección General de Inteligencia. That being the case, isn’t it reasonable that the KSB is involved?”
There was a perceptible pause before Pevser replied, in a tone of disgust, “The Cuban Dirección General de Inteligencia? Where did you get that? Why should I believe it?”
“You should believe it, friend Alek, because I’m telling you. And you should also believe that the people who tried to ask Eric Kocian questions in Budapest were ex-Stasi, because I’m telling you that, too.”
When Pevsner didn’t reply, Castillo went on. “Why don’t you ask your friends? The Cuban was Major Alejandro Vincenzo. He was once Castro’s bodyguard. I don’t have the names of the ex-Stasi people yet, but I’m working on it.”
There was another long pause before Pevsner asked, “What was this fellow’s name?”
Castillo repeated it, then spelled it for him.
“Where did you get this, Charley?” Pevsner asked.
“Sorry.”
“You don’t trust me?”
“Why should I? A minute ago, you told me we’re no longer pals.” There was another long pause, then Castillo went on: “Alfredo knows. But since he doesn’t trust you enough to even give you a call to say, ‘Hi, Alek! How they hanging?’ I guess you’re just going to have to guess where we got it.”
“Alfredo has no reason to distrust me and neither do you,” Pevsner said, sharply.
“Well, truth to tell, I trust you. Up to a point. But Alfredo obviously isn’t so sure. Otherwise, he would have been in touch.”
“I want to talk to Alfredo, Charley.”
“Charley? I thought I was Colonel Ex-Friend.”
“I want to talk to Alfredo, Charley,” Pevsner repeated.
“Well, maybe when I’m down there something can be worked out.”
“I mean right now.”
“Give my regards to the family, Alek. And watch your back. You don’t have as many friends as you think you do.”
[TWO]
Midland International Airport
Midland, Texas
1455 12 August 2005
“I’ve got it, Dick,” Castillo said.
Miller raised both of his hands, fingers spread, to show that he was relinquishing control of the aircraft.
They had been cleared for a straight-in approach to runway 34R.
They could see the airfield clearly.
He really hated to turn it over me, Castillo thought. At least, subconsciously. He knows it wouldn’t be safe for him to land with only one good leg. Dick really loves to fly. I’m not like that, never have been. I do it because that’s what I’m supposed to do and I try hard to do it well, because the alternative to doing it well is not pleasant to contemplate.
