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"Why don't I just get on the horn," Castillo interrupted reasonably, "and call Langley and have them send a plane down here to take our guests off our hands?"
"Yeah," Darby said. "Why don't you?"
"I'm glad you brought that up, Alex. It reminds me of something else I've forgotten to do. Alex, if you happen to have a friendly conversation with your pal Miss Eleanor Dillworth in Vienna, you have no idea where I am, and you never heard of Berezovsky and company."
"What?" Darby said.
"I didn't get into that," Delchamps said.
"Into what?" Darby asked.
"Miss Dillworth is not a big fan of our leader," Delchamps offered.
"Your leader. I work for Langley."
"No, Alex," Castillo said, "you don't. Ambassador Montvale has informed the DCI that--at the direction of the President--the CIA is to furnish the OOA--me--with whatever assets I think I need. You are such an asset. I don't mean to get starchy, but it's necessary. You will not tell the CIA or anyone else that you have been requisitioned. That's an order, Top Secret Presidential, as was what I said before about the woman in Vienna. Clear, Alex?"
Darby's face whitened.
"He does have the authority, Alex," Delchamps said. "You'd better say, 'Yes, sir.' "
"Jesus Christ!" Darby blurted.
"That's close enough," Castillo said.
"Are you now going to tell us what's going on, Ace?"
"Two things," Castillo said. "One is that I'm following my original orders, which remain in force until the man who issued them--and no one else--changes them. Those orders are to 'find and render harmless' whoever is responsible for the murder of Jack The Stack Masterson. I think that may be a General Sirinov; Berezovsky mentioned his name. He said Sirinov ordered the elimination of the Kuhls, Friedler, and Billy, Otto, and me. I think he probably had something to do with what happened to Jack and Sandra and to Liam Duffy.
"Second, Berezovsky said--for the two million bucks I promised him--that he would give me the details about a chemical factory in Congo-Kinshasa making some kind of weapon of mass destruction. I thought he was telling the truth, and so did Davidson."
Davidson nodded.
"So," Castillo finished, "I'm going to deal with these people myself until I am convinced that they are fucking with me or that I can't--we can't--handle them ourselves."
"Ace, you realize you just bit off a hunk that's going to be hard to chew, never mind swallow?"
Castillo took a long, thoughtful look at Delchamps, then said, "Meaning you think I'm wrong? On some kind of ego trip?"
"Meaning, Ace, I think you're doing the right thing--I can think of fifty ways that Langley could, would, fuck this up--and that means what I said, I just hope you realized what size chaw you just bit off."
Castillo nodded.
"Any other questions or comments?" he asked.
When there were none, he gestured toward the sliding door of the quincho. "Let's see to our guests."
Bob Kensington, in a chair against one wall of the quincho, was still in his bathing trunks. He had the Uzi on his lap, the weapon's sling, with a two-magazine pouch hanging from it,
slung around his neck.
Sof'ya was sitting on the floor with the pups and Max. The puppies were trying to climb high enough on Max, who was sitting beside the girl, to gnaw on his ears. He didn't seem to mind.
The adult Russians were sitting in a row on wicker chairs. Berezovsky had removed his jacket, revealing a sweat-soaked shirt and what Castillo decided was a really cheap pair of suspenders. His wife and Svetlana had removed their jackets. Their blouses were the opposite of crisp and fresh.
"Did you all get something to drink?" Castillo asked.
Berezovsky and his wife nodded.
