The Outlaws (Presidential Agent 6)

Gustav gestured toward the communications device. “What does Herr Gossinger think?”

“There is one flaw in that miraculous device,” Kocian said. “It doesn’t work unless the party you’re calling answers, which my godson has not yet done.” He paused, pointed to the telephone on the table near him, and said, “See if you can get him on the horn, Sándor. Try the house in Pilar.”

Tor rose from his fragile-looking chair, walked to the couch by the phone, sat heavily down, then from memory punched in a long number on the keypad. He held the receiver to his ear.

“What time is it in Buenos Aires?” Kocian asked.

“It’s after midnight here, so a little after eight,” Tor said, then added, “It’s ringing,” and handed the receiver to Kocian.

Kocian reached over to the table and pushed the phone base’s SPEAKERPHONE button.

“¿Hola?” a male voice answered.

“With whom am I speaking?” Kocian asked in passable Spanish.

“Who are you calling?”

“I’m trying to get Carlos Castillo. He doesn’t seem to be answering his other telephone ...”

“You have the wrong number, Señor,” the man said and broke the connection.

“Sonofabitch hung up on me!” Kocian said, handing the receiver back to Tor. Tor, turning away so that Kocian would not see his smile, punched in the number again, waited for the ring, and then hit the SPEAKERPHONE button.

“¿Hola?”

“My name is Eric Kocian, I need to speak to Carlos Castillo, and don’t tell me I have the wrong damn number!”

“How are you, Herr Kocian?” the male voice said politely. “Sorry I didn’t recognize your voice.”

“I should have given you my name,” Kocian said. “Paul Sieno, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I thought I recognized your voice when you told me I had the wrong number,” Kocian said. “Is Carlos handy?”

“Actually, sir, he’s not.”

“Where is he? Can you give me a better number?”

“I don’t have one, sir.”

“That’s unusual, isn’t it?”

“Charley’s fly-fishing with his girlfriend in Patagonia, Herr Kocian.”

“What did you say?”

“Charley went fishing with his girlfriend, Herr Kocian. In Patagonia. He left word not to bother him unless the sun went out.”

“What if I told you this is very important, Paul? And what girlfriend would that be?”

“I can get word to him, Herr Kocian. Maybe tonight, and certainly by morning.”

“And the girlfriend?”

There was a long pause, then Paul said, “Herr Kocian, if you don’t know about Sweaty, I’m sorry, but you’re not going to hear it from me.”

“Are you telling me he’s drunk and off in the woods with some floozy? Some floozy named Sweaty? That’s what you said her name is, right? Sweaty?”