“Aside from the scatological one that leaps to mind, you mean?” Kocian asked innocently, looked smugly around the room, then went on: “Jacob and Richard can fly the others to Schwechat, go to their hotel, the Bristol, and wait for us. Unless, of course, we get there before they do, which is a possibility. As soon as I have another little taste of the Slivovitz, I shall get on the telephone and ask Frau Schroeder to get us on the train.” He looked at Davidson. “And, Jack, I will call the manager of the Bristol, a friend of mine, to beg him not to put you and your friends in those terrible rooms he reserves for you Americans.”
Davidson laughed appreciatively, but said, “I’ll be going with you on the train, Billy. I’ll need a room where Charley’s staying.”
Kocian made a face no one would confuse with being friendly. “At the risk of sounding rude, Jack, I don’t recall inviting you to go along.”
“You didn’t have to. McNab did.”
Castillo chuckled.
“Who is McMad?” Kocian demanded.
“Mc
Torine and Delchamps chuckled. Kocian glared at them.
“Think of him as Charley’s fairy godfather, Billy,” Delchamps offered.
“That,” Davidson put in, “is a
“Yes, it was,” Delchamps agreed. “I hastily withdraw that description and replace it with ‘Charley’s guardian angel.’”
“I thought that the Boy Marine was his guardian angel,” David Yung said.
“Corporal Bradley is Charley’s guardian
Everybody laughed.
“Another very dangerous choice of words, Colonel,” Davidson said.
“But, oh, how appropriate!” Delchamps said. “Charley’s Cherub!”
“You do have a death wish, Edgar,” Davidson said. “If Bradley hears that you called him that, you’ll have one—probably two or more—Aleksandr Pevsner Indian beauty spots on your forehead.”
“I have no idea what any of you lunatics are talking about,” Kocian said.
Davidson took pity on him.
“Billy, General Bruce J.
Kocian looked at Castillo, who nodded.
“Jack goes,” Castillo said. “Jake, any problem about taking the Gulfstream to Vienna?”
“Not today. I’ve been—I am—tippling. But if I get to the airport by noon, I can probably be in Vienna about the time you get there. Unless the weather really gets bad, of course.”
Castillo turned to Inspector John “Jack” Doherty.
“Jack, any reason for the FBI—you and/or Two-Gun—to stick around here?”
“The guy from the Bundeskriminalamt showed us what they had, and what the local cops had. Conclusion— mine and Two-Gun’s—is that it was a professional hit by people—probably ex-Stasi—who knew what they were doing and who now are probably in Russia. He said if anything turned up he’d let Otto know.”
“So you guys can go to Vienna with Jake?” Castillo asked.
Doherty nodded.
“Okay, Billy,” Castillo said. “Call Frau Schroeder. Set it up.”
“Thank you,” Kocian said. “And there”—he pointed to a small table near the elevator—“is a second line you can use for your call, or calls.”
“And you have, I’m sure, a suggestion—or suggestions—of who I should call?” Castillo asked sarcastically.
“Well, Karlchen, I thought you might possibly be interested in learning what you can about Dmitri Berezovsky. Or is your relationship with the CIA one in which you feed them information, and they tell you only what they think you should hear?”
They locked eyes for a long moment, during which no one else even coughed.
Finally, Castillo said, “I would say
“Sonofabitch would be more accurate, Karlchen. I tend to be a real sonofabitch when someone doesn’t seem to be as anxious as I am to find the bastards who murdered someone very dear to me.”
Kocian walked to a coffee table, picked up the telephone there, then sat down on a small couch. Holding the telephone base on his lap, he began to punch a number.
Castillo pushed himself out of his chair, walked to the telephone by the door, and entered a long telephone number from memory.
“Lester,” Castillo said thirty seconds later, “this is Colonel Castillo. Is either Major Miller or Mrs. Forbison there?”
“I think the cherub answered the phone,” Delchamps said.
No one laughed.
[TWO]
Aboard EuroCity Train “Bartok Bela”
Near Braunau am Inn, Austria
1325 28 December 2005
They had two first-class sleeping compartments. Castillo, Jack Davidson, and Max were in one, and Kocian, Sandor Tor, and Madchen and her puppies in the other.
Madchen was missing one of her puppies, the male that Hermann and Willi had selected. She had decided that Max was somehow responsible and, when they were in sight of one another, either snarled or showed her teeth at him, making it plain she would like to remove at least one of his ears and very likely other body parts as well.
Max had assumed an attitude of both righteous indignation and self-defense. He obviously had done nothing wrong to the mother of their offspring and naturally felt obliged to show his teeth to let her know that he wasn’t too fond of her, either.
Under these conditions, having the “nice lunch” on the train between Munich and Vienna that Kocian had promised posed a problem. Because they could not leave the dogs alone, it was finally decided that Davidson and Castillo would eat first. Sandor Tor would move into their apartment to restrain Max. Then, after Castillo and Davidson had eaten, Castillo would ride with Madchen and the puppies, and Davidson with Max.
The dining car was two cars ahead of theirs on the train. At the rear, where Castillo and Davidson entered, it was sort of a diner, with plastic-topped tables. Farther forward, separated from the diner by a bar and serving counter, was a more elegant eatery. There were tablecloths and wine bottles and hovering waiters.
Castillo and Davidson headed for the forward end of the car.
Castillo saw something that made him suddenly stop. At the split second that Davidson walked into Castillo, Jack saw what had stopped Charley, and, as a reflex action, nudged him.
At the last table on the right were four people, a man and three women. Or—more accurately, after they had a good look—a man, two women, and an adolescent girl.
The man, who had made eye contact with Castillo, held his fork halfway between his plate and mouth. Then, as Castillo resumed walking, he put the food in his mouth.
Castillo walked to the table and said loudly in English, “Well, I will be damned if it isn’t ol’ Tom Barlow! How
