Black Ops (Presidential Agent 5)

Castillo smiled back.

"May I sit down?" Berezovsky asked.

"Make yourself comfortable," Castillo said.

Berezovsky sat down. Davidson slid the door closed.

The sister leaned forward and put the glasses on the small window-side table. Berezovsky almost ceremoniously opened a beer bottle and half-filled two of the glasses. Then he opened a second bottle and poured from it into the other two glasses. Then he passed the glasses around.

I would have opened all the bottles, Castillo thought, and handed everybody a bottle and a glass. Why did I notice the difference?

"What is it they say in New York?" Berezovsky asked in Russian. " 'Mud in your eye'?"

"Some places in New York," Castillo replied in Russian, "they say, 'Let us drink to the success of our project.'"

"Not only is your Russian as fluent as your Hungarian, but you know our drinking toasts."

"Yes," Castillo agreed.

And again the sister smiled.

And again Castillo smiled back.

"Not that you're not welcome here," Castillo said to her in Russian, "but I seem to recall my ol' buddy Tom saying that he didn't like to discuss business with the family around."

"Well," Berezovsky answered for her, "there's family, Charley, and then there's family. Permit me to introduce myself and my sister--that is, unless you already know who I am?"

"I know who you want me to think you are," Castillo said. "And when we get to Vienna, I expect to learn not only if that passport is the real thing, but a whole lot more about you."

"I'm sure there's quite a bit of information about me--and my sister--in Langley."

"In where?"

"In the CIA's Order of Battle in Langley."

"Well, there may well be, but--I don't want to mislead you, Tom--I'm not CIA. If that's what you thought."

Castillo saw surprise in Berezovsky's eyes.

"DIA?"

"And I'm not associated with the Defense Intelligence Agency, either."

Castillo saw more surprise.

Hell, he thinks I'm lying to him, and that surprises him.

Or worries him?

Castillo held up his right hand, the center three fingers extended.

"What's that?" Berezovsky asked suspiciously.

"Boy Scout's Honor. I am not an officer of the CIA, the DIA, or, to put a point on it, any of the other alphabet agencies, such as the FBI, the ONI, or even the notorious IRS."

Davidson chuckled, which earned him a dirty look from Berezovsky.

"You're playing with me, Castillo," Berezovsky said coldly. "And this is serious business."