The Hunters (Presidential Agent 3)

Castillo nodded. “They are. But I haven’t shared them with anybody. Yet.”

Pevsner looked into his eyes again and again said nothing.

Castillo stared him down and then asked, “Did I mention, Alek, that if there is another attempt to get at Kocian, I will take that personally?”

“You did. But I wonder if you really understand who these people are. Don’t take offense, Charley, but you’re only a major. Could it be that your understandable affection for this man Kocian has clouded your judgment to the point where you think you’re more important than you really are? Can do things you really can’t do?”

“Actually, I’m a lieutenant colonel now,” Castillo said.

“All right, a lieutenant colonel,” Pevsner said, impatiently. “You take my point.”

“Don’t underestimate lieutenant colonels. That’s all that Mr. Putin was in the KGB. Putin’s name, incidentally, is in Kocian’s files, too, and there are no question marks after it.”

“You’re not actually thinking of going after Putin, are you?”

“I’m just a simple soldier, Alek, who will do his best to follow his orders, wherever that leads me.”

“‘Simple soldier’?” Pevsner parroted and chuckled. “And what exactly are your orders, Colonel Castillo?”

“To locate and render harmless the people responsible for the murder of Masterson.”

“‘Render harmless’?”

“The way the ex-Stasi, or ex–Allamvedelmi Hatosag in Budapest, whichever they were, were rendered harmless.”

“You’re not suggesting, are you, that if these people lose interest in your uncle Billy, you’ll lose interest in them?”

“Absolutely not. I just want you to tell them there’s no longer a reason to kill Eric Kocian.”

“From all you’ve been telling me about these people, they are not very nice people, Charley. They may well decide that rendering harmless someone who has been too interested in what they’ve been doing might discourage others from looking under other rocks.”

“In your own interests, Alek, I’d try very hard to convince them that would not be wise.”

“And they may well come after you.”

“They already have,” Castillo said. “And nothing would give me greater pleasure than if they tried it again. The next time, I’ll take prisoners. I know some people who are very good in teaching people how to sing.”

“And, of course, this is all hypothetical. I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

Castillo laughed.

“Alek, you’re one of a kind!” he said. “You said that with an absolutely straight face.”

“There aren’t very many people, my friend Charley, who would be so brave, or stupid, to mock me,” Pevsner said and tried to stare Castillo down again and failed again.

“I wasn’t mocking you, Alek. I said that with admiration. You would be one hell of a poker player.”

Pevsner smiled. “Actually, I’m a rather good poker player. We must find the time to play sometime.”

“I’d like that,” Castillo said.

“Well, Charley,” Pevsner said. “This has been an interesting conversation, and it’s always a pleasure to see you, but I have a golf date…”

“Thank you for the kleines Frühstück,” Castillo said.

On the way back to Buenos Aires, Castillo—who looked carefully—couldn’t find anyone following him. Nevertheless, he twice left the Autopista and drove around crowded neighborhood streets before getting back on the Autopista.

If anybody can trail me though all that, he’s a genius.