“¿Hola?” a voice said.
“There you go in that heavily Russian-accented Spanish again,” Castillo said, in Russian.
“What do you want, Castillo?”
“Call the gate, Alek, and tell them to pass me in. I’m almost there, and I’m bringing pancake flour, maple syrup—a gallon of it—and an old friend to see you,” Castillo said and hung up.
Edgar Delchamps was already in the backseat of a dark blue BMW 720L with heavily darkened windows when Castillo came around the side of the house. Bradley was holding the door open for Castillo.
Castillo had forgotten that Max had been following him around until the dog decided the door was being held open for him and bounded into the backseat.
“Get this goddamned dog out of here,” Delchamps said.
“You tell him, Edgar,” Castillo said. “You have a forceful personality. Maybe he’ll listen to you.”
He gestured for Bradley to get behind the wheel, then opened the front passenger’s door and got in.
“Go to that shopping center off Route 8,” Castillo ordered Bradley. “The one with the Jumbo supermarket. I’ll give you directions from there.”
“Yes, sir.”
Castillo put his arm on the back of the seat and turned to the passengers in the rear.
“Give that nice man a kiss, Max,” he said, in German. “He’s ugly and old and needs a little affection.”
Purely by coincidence, of course, Max took that moment to take a closer look at his fellow passenger and, apparently liking what he saw, or perhaps what he smelled, leaned over and licked his face.
“I’ll get you for that, Castillo,” Delchamps said.
[THREE]
Buena Vista Country Club
Pilar, Buenos Aires Province, Argentina
2045 13 August 2005
“Turn in here, Lester, and put your window down,” Castillo ordered. “They’re determined to keep out the riffraff.”
The BMW and its occupants were inspected at the guardhouse barrier not only by two well-armed members of the security staff but also by János, Pevsner’s massive bodyguard, who stuck his head into the car and peered into the rear seat.
Surprise—and more than a little concern—registered on János’s face when Max showed his teeth and growled menacingly.
Then surprise showed on Castillo’s face when Delchamps greeted János in Hungarian: “János, my old friend, how in God’s blessed name are you?”
János, his head already out of the car, nodded but didn’t reply. He signaled to the security guards that they could raise the barrier pole and then waved the big BMW through.
Castillo turned to speak to Delchamps.
“Is there some reason you didn’t want to tell me you knew János?” Castillo asked.
“I thought you had enough on your mind, Ace, and didn’t want to confuse you further.”
“What about Pevsner? You know him, too?”
Delchamps nodded.
“I meet a lot of people in my line of work,” Delchamps said.