“It’s getting a little toasty in here, Ace,” Delchamps said.
“An air conditioner is on the way,” Castillo said, then added: “You don’t know Jake, do you?”
“No,” Delchamps replied, “but I know he’s all right. When Two-Gun Yung here saw him coming, he raised his eyes to heaven and said, ‘Thank you, God!’”
Miller and Torine laughed.
“I’m about to get the others in here,” Castillo said. “But before I do, Inspector Doherty, I want you to understand that what I’m going to propose is probably—hell, certainly—illegal. I don’t expect you to go along with it. But I do expect you to keep your mouth shut. When I want your opinion, I’ll ask. Clear?”
Doherty, tight-lipped, nodded.
Castillo nodded back, then went to the door.
A ground crew was installing both an auxiliary power unit and an air-conditioning hose.
Castillo raised his voice to be heard over the tug pulling the unit. “Make sure that’s working,” he ordered. “We’re going to have a meeting in here that may take sometime.”
Then he looked at the Avion building and waved his arm. He couldn’t see Lopez or the Secret Service agents, but a moment later his cousin pushed through the door, followed by three men in gray suits, and all started walking toward the Gulfstream.
When everyone was aboard, Castillo closed the stair door.
“I know it’s a little crowded in here,” he said, “but I’m pretty sure it’s not bugged.”
This earned him a dutiful laugh.
“I wish I could stand up all the way up in here,” he said, earning a second polite laugh.
After a moment to collect his thoughts, he went on: “Okay, what follows is classified Top Secret Presidential, by authority of a Presidential Finding. You will never disclose anything you hear or learn in this cabin to anyone at any time without my personal permission. Everybody understand that?”
He looked at each man in turn until he got a nod of acknowledgment.
“Some of you are aware that American Muslims in the Aari-Teg mosque in Philadelphia—a group with known ties to terrorists—have purchased a farm near Philadelphia where they will seek shelter when a suitcase nuclear
device, called a SADM, is detonated…”
“…And,” Castillo wound up his opening comments, “now that you know the manner in which I intend to deal with Mr. Kenyon would drive just about any civil libertarian up the wall, I’m going to give you ninety seconds to make up your mind whether you’re in or out.
“Those who decide, for any reason, that they can’t participate in this operation are free to go. No hard feelings. But with that caveat that they are not to reveal anything they have just heard or attempt to interfere in any manner with what I’m going to do.
“I hate to sound like a hard-ass, but we’re really playing hardball here and anyone who runs off at the mouth will be prosecuted for unlawful disclosure of Top Secret Presidential material. That prosecution will go forward no matter what happens to me.
“And when I said you have ninety seconds to make up your mind, I meant it.”
He raised his wrist and punched the SWEEP second button on his aviator’s chronometer.
“The clock is running,” he announced.
Ninety seconds passed in absolute silence. It felt like much longer.
“Time’s up.”
Castillo walked to the forward bulkhead and opened the door.
No one moved.
“Now’s the time to leave,” he said.
No one moved.