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"You borrowed them for that one job?"
Berezovsky nodded. "I didn't want to run the risk of exposing my own people for that job. General Sirinov agreed and sent me men from the Special Center pool."
"Why did you eliminate Friedler?"
"If your question, Colonel, is why was he eliminated, I think you know. He was asking the wrong questions of the wrong people--the Marburg Group--about their past activities in the international oil trade and the medical-supply business. If you meant to ask why did I execute the operation, General Sirinov delegated that action to me."
"I'll want the names of your men."
"I understood that. But they won't be of much use to you. Once I turn up missing, they will be transferred. The unlucky ones will be shot for failing to learn what I was planning."
"And the Kuhls?"
"I can't help you with the Kuhls, except to say that that action was most probably carried out by the rezident in Vienna on orders from Sirinov. He probably used Hungarians--ex-Allamvedelmi Hatosag--because I read in the paper that a metal garrote was used."
"You knew nothing about that action?"
Berezovsky shook his head. "Nyet."
"But you think it may have been a warning to you?"
Now Berezovsky nodded, and exchanged a long glance with his sister. "Svetlana thinks that may be. And it may have been. On the other hand, it may have been decided it was finally time to reward the Kuhls for their long service to the CIA."
You really are a cold-blooded bastard, aren't you?
Castillo looked at Svetlana.
And what about you?
A cold-blooded bitch, a chippie off the same block?
"So, what else have you got to offer me?" Castillo asked.
"I will answer--Svetlana and I will answer--any questions put to us to the best of our ability."
"And, of course, volunteer nothing," Castillo said. "I have heard nothing that sounds like it's worth two million dollars and putting my South America operation at risk."
"What I have to tell you is worth the two million dollars," Berezovsky said. "And more."
"Unfortunately, Tom, ol' buddy, you're operating in a buyer's market," Castillo said unpleasantly, "and this buyer doesn't think so."
"Tell him," Svetlana said.
Berezovsky didn't respond.
"Tell me what, Svetlana?" Castillo asked.
"There is a chemical factory in the former Belgian Congo," she said.
"There're also several in Hoboken, New Jersey. So what?"
"Weapons-of-mass-destruction chemical factory," she said.
Castillo felt the muscles at the nape of his neck contract involuntarily.
"That sounds like more blue sky," he said.
"If you've made up your minds not to help us," Svetlana said, "please be kind enough to tell us."
