“Well, we know he performs, don’t we? When this is over, if that’s what he wants I’ll see what I can do. I owe him.”
“Speaking of that, Colonel, when you finally locate these bastards and start taking them out I’d like to be in on the operation.”
“If it can be arranged, sure.”
“Are you getting close?”
“I wish I could tell you I was. A lot depends on what Eric Kocian, Yung, and Munz come up with. So keep your other eye on them. They already tried to whack Yung.”
“Will do, Colonel. Have a nice flight.”
Although he wasn’t in uniform and therefore was not supposed to salute, Sergeant First Class Kensington saluted crisply.
Lieutenant Colonel Castillo, who was also in civilian clothing, returned it just as crisply.
“Try hard to keep your dick—and Lester’s—out of the wringer, Sergeant,” Castillo said and walked out of the quincho.
[THREE]
Aeropuerto Internacional de Carraso General Cesáreo L. Berisso
Carrasco, Montevideo
República Oriental del Uruguay
1305 9 August 2005
“It looks like Yung got carried away again, Charley,” Jake Torine said, pointing out the cockpit window of the Gulfstream as they taxied up to the business aircraft tarmac of the airport. “What I told him to do was get a picnic lunch.”
Castillo, who was kneeling in the aisle just behind the pilot’s seat, looked where Torine pointed and saw they were being met by ground handlers, customs and immigration officials, and a large, white van, on the body of which was lettered AIRPORT GOURMET.
“Isn’t ‘airport gourmet’ something like ‘military intelligence’?” Fernando Lopez, in the copilot’s seat, inquired innocently.
Castillo was less amused.
“The idea was not to attract attention,” he said.
He pushed himself upright and walked into the cabin, sat on one of the couches, and looked out the window.
The ground handlers guided the Gulfstream to a place to park and Torine shut down the engines.
Castillo lowered the stair door and looked out.
The customs and immigration officers walked up to the airplane.
“Welcome to Uruguay, señor,” one of them said, in English. “May we come aboard?”
“Certainly,” Castillo replied and stepped out of the way.
“We understand that you are discharging no passengers or cargo?”
“That’s correct.”
But how the hell did you know that?
“In that case, señor, there will be no customs or immigration formalities. The crew may go to Base Operations to check the weather and file a flight plan.”
“Thank you.”