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Castillo took a moment to frame his reply.
While he was doing so, Doña Alicia asked, “Have you noticed, Svetlana dear, that ‘who me?’ look on Carlos’s face when you catch him with his hand in the cookie jar?”
“Abuela,” Castillo began carefully, “think of the security guys as me just being extra-careful.”
“About what?”
“Do you want me to tell her, Carlito?” Sweaty said.
“I wish you would, dear,” Doña Alicia said. “I don’t think you’re nearly as good at getting around the truth as he is.”
Castillo gestured for Sweaty to go ahead.
“We have good reason, Abuela,” Sweaty said matter-of-factly, “to believe that the SVR is behind the kidnapping of Colonel Ferris and the assassinations of the other Americans. That it is a diversion in their plans to get at Carlito, my brother, our cousin Aleksandr, and me.”
“And you’re worried that this might involve me?” Doña Alicia asked calmly.
“Yes, ma’am,” Castillo said.
“What about Billy Kocian and Otto Görner? I’d think if I were at risk, so would they be.”
“We think that whatever the SVR tries,” Castillo said, “it will be in Mexico. Or here. But just to be sure, Abuela, I gave Sándor Tor a call and told him what we think is going on.”
“Not Otto?”
He shook his head.
“Why not?” she asked.
It was not an idle question but rather more on the order of a rebuke.
“Two reasons,” Castillo replied. “After the SVR murdered that Tages Zeitung reporter—I forget his name—”
“His name was Günther Friedler,” Doña Alicia said evenly, “and you should be ashamed of yourself for not knowing his name. He was one of your employees!”
Castillo looked at her a long moment, then nodded.
“Yes, ma’am, you’re right. What I started to say, Abuela, was that after Herr Friedler was murdered, Billy arranged for Sándor Tor to take over all security for Gossinger Beteiligungsgesellschaft, G.m.b.H. He told Otto that if Otto’s security people had done their job, Herr Friedler would still be alive. So Otto went along.
“Anyway, I called Sándor—Billy and Sándor—and told them what we thought. Both agreed, by the way, with what we think. It probably took no more than half an hour before Sándor’s people were sitting on Otto and his family.”
“You didn’t call Otto? Why not?”
/> “That’s the second reason,” Castillo said, pointing to a leather attaché case sitting on a sideboard. “Otto doesn’t answer his Brick. He thinks the CIA listens to everything he says over it.”
“Does it?”
Castillo shook his head.
“And what do you think Otto’s going to do when he notices his extra security?” Doña Alicia asked. “And you know he will.”
“Since Otto also believes that both the Germans and the Russians listen to his telephone calls,” Castillo said sarcastically, “and since he doesn’t want to use the Brick because the CIA will be listening, what he probably will do is hop in his new Mustang and fly to Budapest for a goulash lunch. Or, if the Mustang is in Budapest, invite Billy to Fulda for Knackwurst mit Kraut.”
“Otto has a Mustang? Like yours?”
“They have a Mustang. Gossinger Beteiligungsgesellschaft, G.m.b.H., has had a very good year, but not good enough to be able to afford buying both of them a two-point-seven-million-dollar toy.”
“I’m surprised Otto would permit something like that,” she said. “He’s usually very frugal.”
