Black Ops

Munz nodded his agreement.

There’s that word “romantic” again. Is there an implication that the Reverend Pevsner approves of our sinful relationship? Munz’s nod, I think, means simply it would be a good place to hide.

“And there is the second place in the Buena Vista Country Club in Pilar, and then of course the place at the Polo & Golf,” Munz said. “I’m sure the Cubans will have an eye on the big house.”

“I miss that house,” Pevsner said, then turned to Castillo. “Well, Charley, you can see why I need Alfredo’s advice and why his speaking with my authority is more than useful, absolutely necessary. Are you willing to take the chance that there are exceptions to what Saint Matthew said, and this is one of them?”

“Why is there any question at all?” Svetlana began. “We’re all—”

“He was asking me,” Castillo interrupted.

She flashed him a look that was more anger than hurt.

“Far be it from me to challenge Saint Matthew,” Castillo said. “Would this be satisfactory? Alfredo will advise you, and speak with your voice, with the clear understanding that he has only one master, me?”

“I thought that was understood,” Svetlana said.

Castillo gave her a look he hoped she would interpret as saying, You are pissing me off.

“Well?” Castillo said. “Alek?”

“Understood and agreed to,” Pevsner said.

“Okay, Alfredo, let’s hear your advice.”

“As soon as we can, move Colonel Berezovsky to the small house in Buena Vista. Preferably in something that won’t attract much attention. Alek, where is the Coto supermarket delivery truck?”

“In the garage,” Pevsner said. “Janos?”

“It’s there. But the battery may be dead.”

“When you get on the phone, make sure it is not dead.”

Janos nodded.

“If that doesn’t work,” Munz went on, “Darby can arrange a black embassy car.”

“Delchamps and Darby will go with him?” Castillo asked.

“Of course.”

“And what about the radio?”

“Leave the radio with Davidson,” Munz said. “If they’re watching Nuestra Pequena Casa, a sudden mass exit of people and lack of activity—”

“What radio?” Svetlana asked.

“If I wanted you to know, I would have told you,” Castillo said.

Pevsner chuckled.

“This man may be good for you, Svetlana,” he said. “You do not cow him.”

“I think it would be a very good idea to let Colonel Berezovsky talk to both Alek and Svetlana,” Castillo said.

“Yes,” Pevsner said. “For both personal reasons and so that he can stop dancing with Darby and Delchamps.”

“If they are watching Charley’s house and this one, there will be telephone taps,” Svetlana said disgustedly.

“Thank you for sharing that with us, Colonel,” Castillo said. Then he put his index finger over his lips and said, “Sssshhh.”

Janos and Munz tried not to smile. Pevsner laughed out loud.

“Janos, what has Bradley done with the radio?” Castillo asked.

Janos pointed to the window.

“It’s up?” Castillo asked, surprised.

“He had it up last night, right after you went to bed.”

“Go get him and it, please,” Castillo said.

Janos left the room.

“I would like to know about the radio,” Svetlana said.

“So you said,” Castillo said.

“I am a podpolkovnik of the SVR!” Svetlana announced angrily. “I will not be treated as a foolish woman!”

“You were a podpolkovnik of the SVR,” Pevsner said, rather unpleasantly. “And from your behavior, I’d say you just proved you are a foolish woman.”

“That is between Charley and me. None of your business.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Svet,” Pevsner said. “What I meant is that only a foolish woman loses her temper when there is nothing whatever she can do about what has angered her. And I know very well that when Friend Charley decides to tease you, there is nothing you can do but smile.”

Corporal Lester Bradley entered the room carrying the handset of the AFC radio.

“I can run the secure cable if you would like, sir,” he said. “But I rather doubt if there are intercept devices within the hundred-meter possible intercept range. And, of course, Class One encryption is active. In my opinion, sir, the secure cable is unnecessary.”

“Your opinion is good enough for me, Lester,” Castillo said. “But before I get Delchamps on the radio . . . You may have noticed a certain change in the relationship between myself and Colonel Alekseeva?”

“No, sir. I have not. Is there something I should know?”

“May I speak?” Munz said.

“You don’t have to ask, Alfredo.”

“I was thinking just then about what Davidson said when you sent Bradley to the Delta camp at Fort Bragg to hide him. Do you recall what he said?”

“He said trying to hide Lester at Camp Mackall was like trying to hide a giraffe on the White House lawn.”

Pevsner smiled broadly.

“Am I being called a giraffe?” Svetlana asked suspiciously.

Pevsner put his index finger in front of his lips and made a shushing sound.

“I take your point,” Castillo said. “So let’s get it out in the open. I can’t explain what happened between us. Bottom line, it did. I can’t even work up much guilt for doing what everybody in this room, everybody I know in our line of work, will regard at least as goddamn foolish, and—with absolute justification—as gross dereliction of duty, not to mention conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman. Bottom line here: I will try to carry out my duties to the best of my ability, and believe I can. And I realize I really don’t give a good goddamn what anybody thinks about it; all I care about is what Svetlana thinks about me.”

“Oh, my Charley,” Svetlana said, and got out of her chair and went to kiss him.

“Obviously, the others are going to find out,” Castillo said a moment later. “The later they do, the better. I’ll cross those bridges when I get to them.”

“If I may say so, sir,” Bradley said, “I have seen nothing in your behavior toward Colonel Alekseeva, or in hers toward you, that in any way suggests any impropriety of any kind on the part of either party.”

“That sums it up pretty well for me, too, Charley,” Munz said. “Anything else?”

Castillo shook his head. He didn’t trust his voice to speak.

“Lester, call the safe house, and get Mr. Darby on there, please,” Munz ordered.

“I was wondering when you were going to check in, Ace,” Edgar Delchamps’s voice came over the AFC handset loudspeaker perhaps thirty seconds later. “Your pal the ambassador has been looking for you.”

“Ambassador Silvio? Oh, shit. What did he want?”

Juan Manuel Silvio was the American ambassador to Argentina. He had courageously risked his career to help Castillo in the past, doing things an ambassador just should not do. Castillo did not want to involve him in the current situation.

“No. The one who doesn’t like you. Montvale. That ambassador.”

“What did that ambassador want?”