“Yeah, it sure does,” Castillo said. “Jake, how soon can we go wheels-up?”
“I told you before: thirty minutes after we get to the airport. Where are we going?”
“Edgar, you can discuss Miss Moneypenny with Alex personally,” Castillo said.
“Why are we going to Buenos Aires, Charley?” Delchamps asked warily.
“Because when Colonel Berezovsky and Lieutenant Colonel Alekseeva, the spies who want to come in from the cold, do come in from the cold, that’s where they want to go.”
“He’s already been in touch? Christ, you just got here.”
“I work fast,” Castillo said. “Can we get out of here tonight, Jake?”
Torine nodded, and repeated, “Thirty minutes after we get to the airport.”
Castillo looked at his watch. “It’s seven-forty. Let’s shoot for a ten o’clock takeoff. Sparkman, get out there and file a flight plan to Prestwick, Scotland. Then we file a new en-route flight plan to Morocco or someplace else that’s our best and safest route to Buenos Aires. That’ll work, Jake, right?”
Torine nodded. “Let me get this straight. We’re taking this Berezovsky character with us?”
“And his wife and daughter. And, of course, Little Red Under Britches.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Delchamps asked. “Why are you calling the sister that?”
Castillo exchanged glances with Davidson and grinned. “That’s undercover spy talk, Edgar. You wouldn’t understand.”
“And if we told you, we’d have to kill you,” Davidson added.
“Until this moment, Jake, I thought we were having our chain pulled,” Delchamps said. “Now I don’t know.” He looked at Castillo. “You’ve actually got the SVR’s Berlin rezident in the bag?”
“Plus the Copenhagen SVR rezident.”
“I’ll believe this when I see it,” Delchamps said.
“Oh, ye of little faith!” Castillo said.
“If you think they hate you at Langley now, Ace,” Delchamps said, “wait until they hear about this.”
VI
[ONE]
General Aviation Apron West
Schwechat Airport
Vienna, Austria
2145 28 December 2005
“Work the radios, First Officer,” Colonel Jake Torine said.
Castillo checked the commo panel, saw that the radio was set to the correct frequency, and pressed the TRANSMIT button on the yoke.
“Vienna Delivery, Gulfstream 379,” Castillo announced.
“Gulfstream 379,” the traffic controller replied in English, “this is Vienna Delivery. Go ahead.”
“Gulfstream 379 at Block Alfa Six-Zero. We are a Gulfstream Three with ATIS information Bravo. Request clearance to Prestwick, Scotland, please.”
“Gulfstream 379, Vienna Delivery. Your clearance is ready. Advise when ready to copy.”
“Gulfstream 379 ready to copy.”
“Roger, Gulfstream 379. You are cleared to Prestwick, Scotland, via the Lanux One Alpha Departure, then flight-planned route. Expect flight level three-four-zero ten minutes after departure. Squawk code 3476.”
“Roger, Vienna Delivery. Understand we are cleared to Prestwick via the Lanux One Alfa Departure, flight- planned route, expect flight level three-four-zero, one-zero minutes after departure. Squawk three-four-seven- six.”
The routing they had been given would take them briefly across the airspace of Czechoslovakia, Germany, and Belgium. Then, after crossing the English Channel, they would fly over the British Isles. Finally, they would be “handed off” to Scottish control for their final routing into Prestwick.
“Gulfstream 379, read-back is correct. Advise when fully ready.”
“Vienna Delivery, Gulfstream 379 fully ready.”
“Gulfstream 379, contact Vienna Ground on one-two-one-decimal-six for engine start and taxi.”
“Gulfstream 379. Roger. Good day.”
Castillo punched in 121.6 on the radio control panel, then keyed the yoke’s TRANSMIT button.
“Vienna Ground, Gulfstream 379 at Block Alfa Six-Zero. Request engine start.”
“Roger, Gulfstream 379. Engine start-up approved. Advise when ready to taxi.”
“Gulfstream 379. Roger.”
Castillo looked at Torine, raised an eyebrow, and drew circles with his index finger.
Torine shrugged, said, “Why not?” and reached for the Number One Engine start button.
“Vienna Ground, Gulfstream 379 ready to taxi. Block Alfa Six-Zero with information Bravo.”
“Gulfstream 379, Vienna Ground. Taxi to Runway One-One via Alfa One-Two. At runway holding point, contact tower on frequency one-one-nine-decimal-four when ready for departure.”
“Roger. Gulfstream 379 taxi to Runway One-One via Alfa One-Two.”
“Gulfstream 379, Vienna Ground. That is correct. Have a nice flight.”
“Gulfstream 379. Roger. Good day.”
Castillo reached to dial in the new radio frequency of 119.4 as Torine rolled the aircraft to the threshold of Runway 11.
“Vienna Tower, Gulfstream 379 ready for takeoff Runway One-One at Alfa One-Two.”
“Gulfstream 379, Vienna Tower. You are cleared for takeoff Runway One-One.”
“Gulfstream 379 cleared for takeoff Runway One-One. Roger. Three-Seven-Nine rolling.”
The Gulfstream began to move.
“Take it, Charley,” Torine said. “You need the practice.”
Castillo put his right hand on the yoke and his left on the throttle quadrant.
“I have it,” he said.
Torine held up both hands in the air to show that he had relinquished control.
Billy Kocian had suggested, at just about the moment the same thought had occurred to Castillo, that Inspector Doherty and Two-Gun Yung would be more useful in Europe tracing the money trail than they would be in South America, so they had stayed in Vienna.
The only problem Castillo had with that was that he worried Two-Gun might not be as capable as Two-Gun thought he was in setting up the AFC satellite communications device. Two-Gun assured Castillo that Corporal Lester Bradley had taught him everything he needed to know about the radio, which forced Castillo to consider again that, as Two-Gun was not the typical FBI agent whose primary expertise was in tracing dirty money, Lester had skills far beyond those expected of a Marine Corps corporal two years short of being legally able to purchase intoxicants in the country for which he served.
For example: Having been tutored in the use and maintenance of the AFC satellite communications device by its inventor, Aloysius Francis Casey, Ph.D., MIT.
Casey—once a Special Forces A-Team commo sergeant in Vietnam and now chairman of the board of the AFC Corporation—maintained his association with the Green Berets by providing Delta Force—free of charge—with the absolute latest developments in communication.
The proof of that came thirty minutes after they had taken off. Two-Gun had called on the device to report, somewhat smugly, that he and the device had arrived in his room at the Bristol forty-one minutes before, and here he was already bouncing the deeply encrypted signal off a satellite twenty-seven thousand miles away.
Once contact with Vienna was in place, Castillo used the device to call Sergeant Bob Kensington, the Delta Force communicator who had been left behind in Argentina to man the device in Nuestra Pequena Casa—OOA’s safe house in the Mayerling Country Club in Pilar.
