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"What's interesting here, Susanna," Delchamps went on, "aside from Svetlana's new first name, I mean, is that when I told Berezovsky I was going to meet Charley here and I thought Svetlana would be with him--" He stopped and turned to Castillo. "Where is she, by the way?"
"At yet another of Pevsner's safe houses, in the Pilar Golf and Polo Club. Munz and Lester are with her," Castillo furnished.
Delchamps nodded, then turned his attention back to Susanna: "Berezovsky just handed me this stuff and asked me to give it to her. I don't think he would have done that if he planned to take off."
"Who is Berezovsky now?" Castillo asked.
"'Thomas Barlow,' who else? Born in Manchester, England," Delchamps answered.
"The Russians also showed up with a little walking around money," Darby said. "One hundred thousand dollars of it, fresh from the Federal Reserve. Still in the plastic wrapping. It makes up a package about this big." He demonstrated with his left hand, fingers and thumb extended in what could have been the mimicking of a bear claw. "And it was the real thing, too, Susie. Nice, crisp, spendable hundred-dollar bills."
He waited until she reacted. All he got was a sort of so what shrug, but it was enough for him to go on.
"All of which leads Edgar and me to believe that if all they--especially she--wanted out of Charley was getting them here from Vienna and a little help until they got settled--or disappeared--that that time has passed. Berezovsky is still singing like a canary and--"
"And Charley is still alive," Delchamps said. "Taking Charley out when he was in Bariloche would have been the smart thing for them to do, covering their tracks, and it is a given that both Pevsner and Berezovsky are very good at doing that sort of thing and lose no sleep whatever when they do it."
"So what are you saying?" Tony Santini asked.
"I can't wait to see the look on Susanna's face when I say this," Delchamps said. "I believe, and so does Brother Darby, that (a) Polkovnik Berezovsky and Podpolkovnik Alekseeva risked all to get out of Russia because--subpara lowercase i--they came to believe that Vladimir Putin was about to resurrect the bad old days of the Soviet Union and they wanted nothing to do with that . . ."
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"I don't believe I'm hearing this," Susanna Sieno said.
". . . and--(a) subpara lowercase ii--they suspected that because Brother Putin, himself a member in good standing of the Oprichina--you'll recall his father was Stalin's cook--knows all about what a threat heavy-duty oprichniki would pose to his regime, they stood a very good chance of spending the rest of their lives in a mental hospital with their veins full of happy juice, said mental hospitals having replaced the gulag in the new and wonderful Russian Federation as depositories for potential troublemakers."
"You're telling me that you and Alex"--she looked between them--"believe those ludicrous yarns about a state within a state?"
"With all my innocent trusting heart, Susie," Darby said, putting his right hand to his chest. "But then again, you have to remember that throughout my long career in the Clandestine Services I earned the reputation of always being the guy who believed everything he was told."
"If I may go on?" Delchamps said. "Darby and I also believe that (b) the Berezovskys, the Pevsners, and at least Charley's new friend Svetlana are Christians who take it seriously--we're not so sure of the lady's husband, he's one mean sonofabitch who may well be a godless Communist. . . ."
"She's married?" Susanna asked, shaking her head.
"To Polkovnik Evgeny Alekseeva of the SVR," Delchamps confirmed, "who at last report was scouring the streets of Vienna in high hopes of finding his wife, who he no doubt then hopes to kill in the most painful way he can think of."
"Oh, Charley!" Sandra Britton said.
"Once again, if I may go on?" Delchamps said. "Now, where was I? Oh, yes! (b): are Christians who take it seriously, and for that reason--subpara lowercase i--regard the poisoning of a couple of million innocent women and children as un-Christian and are therefore willing to help Charley take out whatever the hell those bastards have in the Congo, about which Berezovsky apparently knows a hell of a lot.
"Subpara lowercase ii, would be deeply offended if Our Leader--known to the Secret Service as 'Don Juan'--as I really expected to hear just now when he returned to our little nest--had been pleasuring Podpolkovnik Alekseeva simply to get her to talk--or simply for fun--rather than as a manifestation of his intention to marry the lady when that is possible, and thereafter to walk hand in hand and in the fear of God in the bonds of holy matrimony until death do them part. Amen." He paused. "Getting the picture, Susanna?"
"If I heard all that from anybody but you two . . ."
"That wasn't the question."
She nodded. "I got it, Edgar."
"Now tell our leader you're sorry, baby," Paul Sieno said.
Susanna looked at Castillo.
"Is the wedding going to be simple, Don Juan, or are you both going to wear your uniforms?"
"Uniforms, I think. But only if you're going to precede us down the aisle scattering rose petals while singing 'I Love You Truly.' "
[TWO]
