"And his sister," Darby interjected.
"--who humiliated the station chief in Vienna, and thus the agency. They conveniently will conclude that you are the embezzlers the Russians say you are, and have concocted this fantastic story, a la Sunev, to cover your ass, and the thing for them to do is turn you over to Interpol for return to Russia."
"Neither of you is going to turn yourselves in to the agency," Castillo said.
"If you think that through, Colonel," Berezovsky said, "that is not your decision to make. How would you stop us?"
Castillo met his eyes. "How about reminding you of your wife and daughter in Argentina?"
"Did you notice how well my wife and Susanna Sieno got along? Even better than you and I, Carlos. Both women know of the roles their husbands play in the world in which people like you and I live. From time to time, when God wills it, unpleasant things happen.
"We are back, Carlos, to what we have talked about before. The sin of omission. If I went back to Argentina without seeing this through, that would be a sin. What happens now is in the hands of God."
No, it fucking well isn't.
It's in the hands of C. G. Castillo--but I don't have a fucking clue how to handle it.
When you don't know what the hell you're doing, stall.
"Dmitri, if I allowed you and Svetlana to come with us to Florida, would you give me your word, swear to God on the lives of your family, you wouldn't turn yourself in to the agency without talking to me first?"
Berezovsky considered that a moment.
"I so swear," he said, and crossed himself.
And I swear that you're going back to your wife and little girl if I have to drug you, roll you in a carpet, and ship you as FedEx freight.
Or carry you on my back.
And I'll die before I see Svetlana in the hands of the agency, who would--Delchamps is right on the money about that--send her back to Russia and then congratulate themselves for "dealing with the situation in a way that reflected credit upon the agency."
[FIVE]
Svetlana was wrapped in a white terry-cloth robe--under which Castillo happened to notice she wore the lacey red underpants he had first happened to see in Vienna's Westbahnhof--and leaning on the jamb of the bathroom door as she watched him conduct business on the telephone.
She asked with her eyes what was going on. He signaled for her to wait.
"I appreciate your understanding," he said into the phone. "The animal is a symbol of the strength and devotion of the Lorimer Fund, and I can't imagine Max not being at a board of directors meeting."
Svetlana raised her eyebrows even higher in question, as whoever Castillo wa
s talking to said something else.
"Thank you very much," Castillo said politely, "but I think we can make do with the space in the larger suite for our meeting."
The door chime sounded and Svetlana, in bare feet, ran quickly to answer it.
Castillo saw that it was a room-service waiter pushing a cart on which sat a champagne cooler and something else he couldn't see.
"I'm afraid we won't have time for offshore fishing," Castillo went on, "but I must admit it certainly sounds like fun."
The room-service waiter opened the champagne and Svetlana attacked whatever else was on the table by jabbing at it with a fork.
"A cocktail party at the pool is something we'll have to consider when we get there," Castillo said. "But that, too, is certainly an interesting option."
Svetlana signed the room-service check and showed the waiter out the door, carefully fastening the lock after he'd gone.
She returned to the room-service cart, picked up two champagne stems with the thumb and two fingers of her right hand, then picked up something with her left hand and walked to Castillo.