Black Ops

“Aside from talking to you, do you mean?” Delchamps asked, then went on: “Well, he wanted to know where you were.”

“And?”

“And I told him you were off in the Andes with a redhead studying geological formations, and would return after the New Year’s holiday. I may have given him the impression I suspected you were going to try to hide the salami in the redhead.”

Svetlana’s face showed that it had taken her five seconds to take Delchamps’s meaning. Then it showed indignation, perhaps even outrage. Then it colored.

“And his response?”

“Something to the effect that if you had been able to keep your salami in your pants in the past you wouldn’t be in the trouble you’re in now. No. Actually, what he said was ‘We wouldn’t be in the trouble we’re in now.’”

“Did he say what trouble that was?”

“He alluded to a preposterous notion apparently held by the agency’s Vienna station chief—which she has apparently relayed officially to the DCI—and unofficially to a former co-worker at the CIA, one Mrs. Patricia Davies Wilson, who in turn just happened to mention it in passing to C. Harry Whelan, Jr., of The Washington Post.”

“Did he say what this preposterous notion was?”

“As a matter of fact, he did. He said that a Miss Dillworth—she’s the Vienna station chief—has somehow gotten the preposterous idea that you swooped into Vienna and snatched away two very important Russians she had labored hard and long upon to change sides and who were about to do so.

“The ambassador said he found this impossible to believe—even of you—especially inasmuch as you had an arrangement with him to tell him whenever you were going to do something out of the ordinary, but he would like to have a little chat with you as soon as possible to straighten the matter out.”

“Well, I guess I’d better call him in the next day or two. How are you and Alex doing with Polkovnik Berezovsky?”

“In Russian, huh? Can I infer from that your relations with Podpolkovnik Alekseeva have been going well?”

“Answer the question, Edgar.”

“Not well. He’s one tough sonofabitch, Charley. And we’re running out of time.”

“Well, don’t break out the ice water and the bright lights just yet. Get him on the radio.”

“Really? You got something out of Red Underpants we can use on him?”

“Get him on the horn, and make sure everybody else can hear.”

“The way you said that sounds like maybe I didn’t have to put an edge on my hari-kiri sword after all; maybe I won’t have to commit seppuku.”

Castillo happened to glance at Svetlana. She was glaring at him.

“Sit there, Colonel, and just talk in a normal voice. Okay, Ace, we’re all gathered here to witness the miracle.”

“Colonel Berezovsky, can you hear me?” Castillo asked.

“I can hear you.”

Castillo gestured to Aleksandr Pevsner.

“God has mercifully answered our prayers, Dmitri,” Pevsner said. “Our mothers are smiling down on us from heaven. Thanks be to God, you are safely out of hell on earth.”

And we will now sing Hymn Number One One Four, “Onward, Christian Soldiers.”

Castillo was immediately sorry when he heard Berezovsky finally manage to ask, in a choked voice, “Aleksandr?”

And even worse when he saw that Pevsner couldn’t find his voice, either.

I hate to tell you, Edgar, but right now neither of them looks like a tough sonofabitch to me.

“Pity you’re not here, Tom Barlow, ol’ buddy. You could help us decorate the Novogodnaya Yolka.”

That earned him another icy glare from Svetlana.

Pevsner found his voice.

“Dmitri, the situation has changed greatly. Listen to me carefully. Do whatever Mr. Darby—or any of Charley Castillo’s people—tells you to do. Tell them anything they want to know. Do what they say.”

“You know this man Castillo?”

“He is the next thing to family,” Pevsner said. “He is family, if you ask Anna.”

“Or me, Dmitri,” Svetlana said. “So far as I am concerned, before God and the world, he is family.”

“Has he met Alfredo?” Pevsner asked Castillo, who nodded.

“Dmitri, Colonel Munz is not only my friend, but he speaks with my voice,” Pevsner said. “We’re going to move you from where you are to a safer place. Alfredo will explain.”

Munz then addressed Darby. “Alex?”

“Here, Alfredo.”

“There is a second safe house at the Buena Vista Country Club. Colonel Castillo wants you to go there—you and Delchamps; everybody else stays at Nuestra Pequena Casa—with Colonel Berezovsky and his family. Within the hour, a Coto supermarket delivery truck will come there and back up to the front door. Load everybody in it.”

“Whose truck?”

“Pevsner’s, and the men in it will be his. We’ve got another place at the Golf and Polo Country Club as a backup.”

“This is Charley’s idea?” Darby asked dubiously.

“Until something better can be worked out, yeah,” Castillo said. “By the time I get back to Buenos Aires —”

“When will that be, Ace?” Delchamps asked.

“I’m going to leave here at first light on the second. I’ll be at Jorge Newbery—and somebody will have to meet me—four hours and something after that. I’ll have Alfredo and Lester with me.”

“And me,” Svetlana said.

“I’m going to leave Colonel Alekseeva here. And probably move Mrs. Berezovsky and Sof’ya here.”

“Is leaving her there smart, Charley?”

“It’s out of the question,” Svetlana said. “‘For wither thou goest, I will go’ . . . Read the Bible, my Charley, that’s in the first chapter of Ruth.”

“I don’t want all our eggs in one basket,” Castillo said.

“That’s right. You trust Pevsner, don’t you?” Delchamps asked sarcastically.

“I’m with Charley, Alex,” Munz said. “Leaving her here makes sense.”

“Well, I guess that makes two of you,” Delchamps said.

“I’m going to find out as much as I can about the money from her. Alek is going to tell me what he knows about the Congo operation, but he says he doesn’t know much, so get what you can out of the colonel.”

“Dmitri, tell them everything you know about that,” Pevsner ordered.

It took Berezovsky a long moment to reply.

“You are sure, Aleksandr?”

“Of course I’m sure. We can do something about that, Dmitri, through Charley.”

“If you’re worried about the two million, Colonel,” Castillo said, “Alek will tell you I’m a man of my word. I promised it to you, and I’ll pay it.”

Castillo saw that Svetlana shook her head as if wondering how stupid just one human male could be.

What the hell is that all about?

“One quick question, Colonel, now that we’re no longer dancing,” Castillo said. “And we’re no longer dancing, right?”

“I trust Aleksandr’s judgment, Colonel,” Berezovsky said. “We are no longer, as you put it so quaintly, dancing.”