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"Anyway, I got a couple taking care of me at the house. Good people, but you probably want to be careful what you say when they're around."
"Thanks," Castillo said, and then, as much to change the subject as anything else, asked, "What's this stuff?"
Casey looked and saw where Castillo was pointing.
"Oh, that stuff," he said, as if he welcomed the chance to change the subject. "The left handset is an encrypted tie to my communications. The right one, and the display, is pretty much what they're putting in your airplane."
"Is it working?" Castillo said.
"It damned well better be."
"I could get my office on that? The White House switchboard?"
"You can get anybody on your net but the White House," Casey said. "I didn't think I'd better put a link in there. When the new stuff is in the airplane, you'd be linked to the White House, just like your truck. But your office can patch you through to the White House."
I don't want to talk to the White House.
I want to talk to Nuestra Pequena Casa. I really have to start things moving down there.
But is the radio still up? Or did Sergeant Kensington shut down when we left?
There's only one way to find out.
"Can I try it?"
"Help yourself."
"How does it work?"
"Pick it up, say your name, give it a couple of seconds for the voice identification to work, an
d then say who you want to talk to."
"There's an operator?"
"There's a little black box."
"And it's encrypted?"
"Not even NSA will know what you're saying."
Castillo picked up the handset. The AFC logo on the display screen disappeared, and then STANDBY went away. ACTIVATING appeared, and then ENCRYPTION ACTIVE, and then VOICE IDENTIFICATION ACTIVE and finally ALL FUNCTIONS OPERATIONAL.
"No more little green and red LEDs," Casey said.
"Clever," Castillo said.
"No recognition," a metallic voice came over the handset speaker.
"Jesus!"
"No recognition," the metallic voice repeated.
"Castillo."
"Go ahead, Colonel Castillo."
"Nuestra Pequena Casa."
