“Yes, we are,” Hall interrupted. “At four tomorrow afternoon, the police commissioner’s going to tell the mayor what he knows. I don’t even like to think what’s going to happen when he does.”
“Yes, sir. But if I had a plane, I could get up to Philadelphia and be back in a matter of hours.”
“I need my plane here,” Hall said, evenly, answering the question he expected next. “That’s why it barely did more than a touch-and-go when it dropped you at Bragg.”
“I can get a plane—I’m almost sure I can—but what I need is permission for it to land at Pope.”
“What are you talking about, renting a plane yourself?”
“No, sir. My family has an airplane. I can—presuming it’s not down for maintenance or something—just borrow it.”
“You think it’s important?”
“Yes, sir. I do. I also may need it to meet with Kennedy.”
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know, sir,” Charley replied, comfortable in the fact that he did not know for certain if Kennedy was telling the truth about being en route to Mexico City and that it was always better to pass only information that had been con firmed. “But I expect another call at any time.”
“I’m going to have to give the FBI this latest bulletin, and, when I do, they’re going to ask where Kennedy is.”
“I’m glad I really don’t know, sir.”
“Okay, Charley, I’ll call Secretary Beiderman and have him get landing clearance for you.”
“Thank you.”
“Wait a minute, Charley. I just thought there’s probably one—or more—of those Army Beechcraft King Airs . . .”
"C-12s,” Charley furnished.
“. . . at Fort Bragg. I can have Beiderman arrange for you to use one. For that matter, I can probably just as easily have Beiderman get you a small Air Force jet.”
“Sir, that would cause problems, starting with talk. And I’d really rather have what the cops would call an unmarked airplane.”
“But is your family’s airplane fast enough? The clock is ticking.”
“Yes, sir. It’s a Learjet 45XR.”
Castillo heard Hall exhale.
“You’re going to borrow your family’s Learjet 45XR? Every time I think there’s nothing else you could tell me that could possibly surprise me, you do. Okay, Charley. Do it your way. You better give me the registration numbers.”
“Jesus, I don’t know,” Charley said and then corrected himself immediately. “Yeah, I do. I flew it into Baltimore just before I went to Angola. Five-Oh-Seven-Five.”
“Learjet 45XR. Five-Oh-Seven-Five,” Hall repeated.
“Anything else, Charley?”
“I’m going to see if I can’t borrow some Gray Fox radios, ” Charley said. “The secure kind.”
“I can have Beiderman arrange that, too, if you want.”
“I thi
nk the Gray Fox people who have them—or I hope do have them—would probably stall even him until McNab okayed it,” Charley said. “Let me see how far I get by myself. ”
“Your call. Are you running into any kind of hassle with anyone down there? I thought I picked up . . .”