“No, sir. General Gonzalez even loaned me his aide to see that I get whatever I think I need.”
He looked at Captain Brewster as he spoke.
“Okay. Keep me in the loop, Charley.”
“Yes, sir, of course.”
He broke that connection and pushed another autodial number.
“Maria,” he said a moment later, in Spanish, “this is Carlos. I realize it’s late, and I hope I didn’t wake you up, but I really have to talk to Fernando.”
He saw the surprise on Captain Brewster’s face at the Spanish and wondered how much Spanish Gonzalez’s aide knew.
He probably speaks it. Or at least has been trying hard to learn it. A wise move, considering his general is named Gonzalez and he likes to speak Spanish.
“What’s up, Gringo?” Fernando Lopez, sounding sleepy, asked.
“Fernando, I need the Lear,” Castillo said.
There was a just perceptible hesitation before Fernando replied, “As long as you deal with the lawyers and the IRS, Gringo, you’re welcome to it. You know that.”
“I mean, I need it right now. Tonight.”
The hesitation was more evident this time.
“You want to tell me why?” Fernando asked.
“How soon can you find a pilot to fly it here?”
“Where’s here? The last I heard from you, you were on your way to Africa.”
“I’m at Fort Bragg.”
“Welcome home, Gringo. How was the Dark Continent?”
“Hey! I’m not fooling around. I need you to find a pilot and have it brought up here.”
“Jesus Christ, do you know what time it is?”
“Yeah, I do. This is important.”
“But you’re not going to tell me why?”
“And leave your Jeppson case in it. I’m presuming you’ve got approach charts for Mexico?”
“Yeah, I’ve got them. Until the lawyers screamed, I was going to take the family to Cozumel and call it a proficiency flight. What the hell are you going to be doing in Mexico?”
“Just do what I ask. For the third or fourth fucking time, Fernando, this is important.”
“Okay, okay. If you don’t hear from me in an hour—your cellular is up and running?”
Charley replied by giving him the number.
“I have that number,” Fernando said. “If you don’t hear from me in an hour, you can presume the Lear is wheels-up for Fort Bragg. Which, I just realized, is a restricted zone. And I don’t think they allow civilian airplanes to land at Pope Air Force Base. What to do about that?”
“The plane’ll be cleared for the restricted area and to land at Pope. Have the pilot give them his ETA and I’ll meet him and get him a ride into Fayetteville. You better give him some money, too. I haven’t had a chance to cash a check lately.”
“Jesus Christ, Gringo, this better be important. I think you’ve just destroyed my happy marriage.”