"Amazing. They were waiting for us, Charley. A lot of them."
"What I remember is Three hitting an antenna cable and going in-"
"What it hit was a fucking cable, one of a bunch of fucking cables, strung across every area in that compound large enough to land a chopper. I don't see why everybody didn't hit one."
"But just Three did?"
Leverette nodded.
"And?"
"Bruises and contusions, one broken arm. We brought him here, too. They set the arm and put him on an American Airlines flight last night for Miami."
"Why here?"
"You lost a lot of blood, Charley, and your leg was a mess. Delchamps took one look at you in Formosa and decided you were in no shape for a ten-hour flight to the States. So he flew you here."
"And where is he?"
"He went on the Gulfstream with Timmons, Mullroney, and the guys from the 160th."
"Lester?"
"He took out the guy who shot you, and then started dragging you to the chopper. I was right."
He went into his pocket and came out with a small clear plastic zip-top disposable bag. He handed it to Castillo. It held three bullets, one fairly intact, the other two distorted.
"That's 9?39mm, PAB-9. I suppose the beat-up ones are the ones that did the damage to your leg."
"I didn't even hear any firing, and I thought I took two hits, not three."
"These are the rounds the FSB uses in their-suppressed-AS VAL Special Purpose Assault Rifle. Odd that a bunch of drug dealers would have weapons like that, isn't it?"
"We were up against Russians?"
"Maybe. Maybe Cubans. Dead men tell no tales, and after Duffy got there and found his two guys full of holes from these things, that's all that was left."
"He took out everybody?"
Leverette nodded. "And then blew everything up," he said. "Spectacular! It looked like something from a Rambo movie. All kinds of secondary detonations. I was surprised nobody got hurt. Or the choppers."
"Our guys get involved?"
Leverette shook his head. "There was a moment-the first word was that you'd bought the farm-when I thought they would. But Jack Davidson stopped it."
"And you," Castillo said. It was a statement, not a question.
"What the hell, I'm a W-Five and Jack's just a lousy sergeant major."
"Where is he?"
"He and Lester are trying to sneak Max in here."
"He's still here? Why?"
"The Almighty has spoken."
"McNab?"