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"THE KID"???? HE'S YOUR SON, YOU ASSHOLE!!!! YOUR BLOOD, THE FRUIT OF YOUR LOINS, THE WHOLE GODDAMN NINE YARDS!!!!
AND WHAT ABOUT THE BOY??
WHAT'S BETTER FOR HIM??
Castillo stopped typing, looked at what he had written, ran the cursor over everything to highlight it, and then put his finger on the DELETE key.
This is not going to go away by sending it into cyberspace!
Then he held down the CTRL key, then typed "ENC." He saved the now encrypted file as FATHERHOOD and turned off the laptop.
IX
[ONE] Aeropuerto Internacional Ministro Pistarini, Ezeiza Buenos Aires, Argentina 0525 9 September 2005 Colonel Jacob Torine, USAF, turned from the left seat in the cockpit of Gulfstream III N379LT toward Lieutenant Colonel C. G. Castillo, USA, who was standing in the doorway, and pointed his index finger toward the passenger compartment.
Torine ordered, "Sit."
Colonel Castillo complied with the order.
Captain Richard M. Sparkman, USAF, suppressing a smile, then retarded the throttles a tad, waited two seconds more, then greased the aircraft onto the runway.
"Nice," Colonel Torine said to Captain Sparkman over the privacy of the intercom. "Your other option, of course, was coming in hard and/or short or long and having Charley remind you of it for the rest of your natural life."
"What kind of a pilot is he?"
"If you quote me, I will deny it, but he's one of the naturals. Get him to take you for a chopper ride sometime. You'll feel like one of those soaring swallows that fly from Capistrano to Plaza de Mayo here in B. A."
"Stupid question, I guess," Sparkman said. "I saw all those DFCs."
"Three of them," Torine said. "Each for doing something with a helicopter that the manufacturer will tell you is aerodynamically impossible."
Ezeiza ground control directed them to the far left of the terminal building, where ground handlers parked them between two McDonnell Douglas MD-11 cargo aircraft, one belonging to FedEx and the other to Lufthansa, which made the Gulfstream look very small indeed.
"Passengers may now feel free to move about the aircraft," Torine called over the cabin speakers. "Please remember to take your personal items with you. That includes ravenous bears masquerading as lapdogs."
Castillo reappeared in the cockpit doorway.
"How do you want to handle this, Charley?" Torine asked. "Use the valet parking? Or have us stick with it and catch up to you later?"
"There's nothing on here of interest, except the AFC radios, and we'll take them with us. Let's stick together."
"And the weapons?" Torine argued.
"No problem, right, until we try to take them off the airplane? Just leave them."
"I will now go deal with the authorities," Torine said. "When do I tell them we'll need it?"
"On an hour's notice," Castillo said.
"Remember, we're here to fish," Torine said.
Castillo knew that that had come from Darby when Torine had radioed him their arrival time at Ezeiza. Darby had said, "The purpose of your visit is sport-fishing on the Pilcomayo River."
Max took one look at the customs officials at the foot of the stair door and decided he didn't like them. He was, however, now on a leash-Castillo had bought in Quito a hefty woven leather souvenir lariat for that purpose-and thus didn't pose a real problem. Still, the customs officials, smiling nervously, gave Max a wide berth as he towed Castillo to the nose gear.
Inside the terminal, when Castillo's group tried to pass through customs and immigration, there was another problem with Max. They were told that the official charged with ensuring that live animals entering the country had the proper documentation-in Max's case, a certificate from a doctor of veterinary medicine stating he had the proper rabies and other inoculations-had not yet come to work. They would have to wait until he showed up.
Castillo then saw, at about the same time Delchamps did, the two burly men in civilian clothing leaning against the wall across the baggage carousel from them, trying not to conceal their interest in the newly arrived American sportfishermen.
