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Castillo shrugged and said, “Not that it really matters, but a BMW motorcycle—the thingee with two wheels?—that’s called a Beamer, or Beemer with two es. The four-wheel BMW is a Bimmer. Like I said, not that it matters, but that’s that.”
Davenport nodded and, without any conviction, replied, “Right. Tomato, tow-maw-toe. Got it.”
Castillo smiled.
“Anyway,” he went on, “I need you to hold the fort here, Jack.”
Castillo turned to Bradley.
“Think you can handle a BMW, Lester?”
“Sir, I am certified to drive any wheeled or tracked vehicle including the M1A1 Abrams tank and the corresponding vehicle-retrieval vehicles as well,” Corporal Bradley announced.
“The question, Corporal, was can you handle a Bimmer?”
“I am confident that I can handle a Bimmer and a Beamer, sir.”
Castillo smiled.
“Okay, Lester. Go with Mr. Sieno and—discreetly—get the Micro Uzi from her and put it in the backseat of the car she shows you. And there’s two sacks of pancake flour and a gallon of maple syrup in the Traffik. Put that in the Bimmer, too. I’ll be out in a minute with Mr. Delchamps.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” Corporal Bradley said. “And how many magazines, sir?”
“There’s only two,” Castillo replied.
“Extra boxed ammunition, sir?”
“I think the two magazines will be sufficient. Make sure they’re charged.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
When they were out of earshot, Davidson said, “You can’t help laughing at him, but, when you do, you feel like you’ve just kicked a puppy.”
“Yeah,” Sergeant Kensington said.
“As for me, I have a very soft spot in my heart for people who have saved my ass,” Castillo said.
“Curiosity overwhelms me, Charley,” Alex Darby said. “What’s with the pancake flour and the maple syrup?”
“Aleksandr Pevsner, Junior,” Castillo said, “who is ten, has acquired a taste for pancakes and maple syrup from an American classmate. It’s hard to get here in Argentina so I brought him some from the States.”
“And just told Bradley to put it in the car,” Darby said.
“Yes, I did.”
“Can I put that together to mean you’re on your way to see this pancake loving kid’s daddy? He’s here?”
“I hope, later today, that I’ll be able to put it all together for you, Alex. But right now, Pevsner has my word that I won’t tell anybody where he lives. That depends on Pevsner. Wish me luck.”
“And taking Delchamps with you?” Darby asked.
“I want Edgar to tell him something I don’t think he’d believe coming from me.”
“I don’t really know what’s going on, Charley. Is that on purpose?”
“While I’m gone, Yung and Doherty can bring you—everybody—up to speed,” Castillo said. “I don’t think I’ll be gone long.”
He took what he now thought of as “the Argentine cellular” from his briefcase, pushed an autodial button, and put the phone to his ear.
