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Pevsner shook his head in exasperation again.
"As you well know, when something like that happens, what the FSB wants to hear-what Putin himself wants to hear-is not some excuse or explanation. They want confirmation that whoever has killed one of them has himself been killed."
"I know an Argentine cop who has much the same philosophy of life."
Pevsner looked at him curiously.
"I don't understand," he said, finally.
"It's too long a story to be told in an elevator. It will have to wait until after dinner."
This time Pevsner expressed his exasperation by exhaling audibly. He pushed a button on the control panel and the elevator began to descend.
[TWO] The dinner was first class, which did not surprise Castillo. But he was surprised at how hungry he was and how much he ate, including all of an enormous slice of cheesecake topped with a strawberry sauce he thought was probably a hundred calories a spoonful.
Afterward, Pevsner led the group back to the elevator bank and they filled both elevators. This time, the elevators went down and the doors opened on a corridor in the basement.
At the end of the corridor, a door opened to the outside, where a Peugeot van and three men-obviously armed-waited for them. They climbed into the van and were driven maybe a kilometer to a wharf on the lakeshore.
This has to be Lake Moreno, Castillo decided.
Munz said, "Pevsner's place is on the other side of the lake-Moreno."
Floodlights came on as they stepped onto the wharf. Castillo saw a cabin cruiser, what looked like a thirty-five-or forty-foot Bertram sportfisherman tied to the pier, and had a mental image of the boat being hauled along some narrow provincial road on a trailer, dazzling the natives.
There were no lights on the boat, but as they approached the vessel he heard its exhaust burbling. As soon as they were on the boat, in the cockpit aft, the floodlights on the pier went on and the cabin lights on the boat illuminated.
Pevsner asked with a gesture whether Castillo wanted to go into the cabin or up to the flying bridge. Castillo opted for the flying bridge, despite the fact that the air was chilly. These were the Andes Mountains, and springtime would not come to Argentina for several weeks. But Castillo-perhaps as a reflex response-wanted to see what could be seen and began climbing the ladder fashioned of heavy-gauge aluminum tubing toward the flying bridge.
Max barked his protest at not being able to follow him up the ladder. Elena appeared at the cabin door and called to him. He looked to Castillo for guidance.
"Go with Elena," Castillo ordered, and after a moment's thought Max walked into the cabin.
The man who had been with Pevsner when Castillo had first seen them was at the helm, his hands on the controls. As soon as Pevsner was on the flying bridge, the boat began to move.
Set into the panel were radar and GPS screens, and the man used the latter to navigate.
Meaning, of course, that he's pretty sure nothing is out there, on the surface or below.
Wrong. I hear other e
ngines.
A moment later, as Castillo's eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw first the wake of a boat ahead of them and then the boat itself, a twenty-odd-foot inboard. The three men who had been waiting for them outside the Llao Llao were in it.
The small inboard boat picked up speed and began to turn, obviously intending to circle the sportfisherman.
"Nice boat, Alek," Castillo said, raising his voice over the sound of wind and the rumble of twin diesels. "How did you get it here?"
"By truck," Pevsner replied. "The first try was a disaster. They went off the road and turned over."
"Jesus!" Castillo said, sympathetically.
"Always look for the silver lining, friend Charley. It took another month to get another boat from Miami-this wouldn't fit in any of my airplanes-but I now have spare parts for everything but the hull."
Twenty minutes later, a light appeared almost dead ahead. The radar screen showed something that had to be a pier extending into the lake from the shore. The engines slowed. A minute later, floodlights on a pier came on and the inboard boat came out of the darkness and tied up. A twin of the Peugeot van at the Llao Llao was backed up onto the pier.
Three minutes later, they had tied up to the wharf and were in the van, which started down the pier. As soon as the vehicle reached the foot of the pier, the floodlights went off.
