Black Ops (Presidential Agent)

by W. E. B Griffin

  Svetlana looked at Pevsner for support and, Castillo saw, got none.

  "Before we get into what else may have slipped your mind and you didn't tell me," Castillo said, "what are the memorized account numbers?"

  "That's where most of the money is," she said. "Most of it in Lichtenstein, but some in Switzerland and the Cayman Islands. There are five accounts in all."

  "And the numbers you gave me?"

  "What we did, Charley, is put a little bit of money in those accounts, so in case we were found out, they would think they had found the money and stop looking. You understand?"

  "Define 'a little bit of money.' "

  "Usually never more than a quarter of a million dollars."

  "Looks can be deceiving, Svetlana. I'm not really stupid enough to believe that."

  "Before God, it is the truth."

  He did the math in his head before going on. "You expect me to believe that whoever chases after dirty money in Russia is going to come across your lousy eight thousand dollars and say, 'Eureka, we found it. Call off the search'?"

  "Eight thousand dollars?" she asked in what seemed to be genuine confusion.

  Pevsner laughed.

  "This is not funny, goddamn it, Alek. First she lies to me, and then she insults my intelligence. What happened to the 'we're all family and have no secrets' bullshit?"

  "A moment ago, Friend Charley, you owed her an apology. Now you owe us both one."

  "How?"

  "First that I consider you family is not bullshit. You have wounded me by thinking that."

  "And?"

  "What did you do, Charley, divide a quarter of a million dollars by the number of small accounts to come up with eight thousand dollars in each?"

  "That's exactly what I did."

  "I think what Svetlana was trying to tell you is that there's about a quarter of a million in each of those accounts."

  As one part of his brain began to suspect that he had just made an ass of himself, another part did the math.

  "Christ, that's almost eight million dollars," he said. "You were prepared to spend eight million dollars to throw the SVR off the scent?"

  Svetlana nodded. He saw tears in her eyes.

  Oh, Jesus, don't do that!

  "Before God, it is the truth," she sobbed. "I can't stand it when you look at me with hate and suspicion in your eyes!"

  "Oh, baby," Castillo heard himself say.

  And then she was in his arms, sobbing.

  "I think I will go see how they're doing with the tree," Pevsner said. "It might be wise to lock the door after I go."

  "We have just had our first fight," Svetlana said. "And our first makeup, and our first you-know-what in my bed. Up to now, all the you-know-whats have been in your beds."

  "Baby, I'm really sorry."

  "I know. I can tell," she said. "Can I say something?"

  "You can say anything you want."

  "I know what it was, why you disbelieved me."

  "Because I'm stupid?"

  "Because you are a man," she said. "Like other men, insecure. When a woman throws herself at you, you are incapable of just accepting your good fortune. You don't think you are worthy of what you are being given, so the woman has to have some ulterior motive."

  "What is that, Psychology 101?"

  "It is the truth," Svetlana said. "And I have something else to say. I am not a foolish woman. I am probably less foolish than any woman you have ever known.

  "And like you, I have been trained to look for the worst scenarios. I thought about the worst scenarios before I put the toothbrush in the lock of your bathroom."

  "And what are the worst scenarios?"

  "Actually, there were three," she said, propping herself on her elbow to look down at him, which caused her breast to rest on his chest. "The first was that I was wrong about what I thought I saw in your eyes, and that you felt nothing for me.

  "The second was your professionalism would be so strong that you would reject me no matter how you felt. That really worried me."

  "And the third?"

  "That's still viable, my Charley. You know what the chances are of our spending our lives together? You've never thought about that?"

  "I've thought about it," Castillo said softly.

  "I don't think there's a chance in a thousand that we will be able to do that."

  "Okay. So what do we do?"

  "I will pray. I have been praying. Do you pray, Charley?"

  "Not in a long time."

  "That's between you and God. My father never prayed either. He said that God knew his mind, so it was pointless. God was going to do with his life whatever God wanted to do."

  "I'm something like that," Castillo said. "And if God is reading my mind, He knows how I feel about you."

  "So there is a tentative scenario we can run. We just put all the reasons we shall most likely not grow old together from our minds and pretend that we will be together forever."

  She raised her eyebrows questioningly.

  "Deal," he said.

  "You mean that?"

  "I mean that."

  "Good. Then I will go with you to Buenos Aires and you will give me a computer just like yours."

  "I've just been taken," Castillo said.

  She nodded happily in agreement.

  "Can I ask a question?"

  "Anything, just so long as it's not about money."

  "Actually, it is. How much money is in the accounts, the ones you memorized?"

  "So that's it. You're a gigolo? After my money?"

  "A lot more, I would guess, than the eight million you were willing to spend to throw the dogs a bad scent."

  "If I told you forty, fifty times that, would that make you happy? You want me to give you money, my Charley? Just ask."

  "I'm not in that league, but I'm not going to have to sell Max anytime soon to pay the rent. What I've been wondering about is that two million you asked for on the train."

  "Two reasons. You needed to hear a reason--right then--why we were willing to defect, a reason you would believe. And if you thought we needed money, you probably wouldn't start looking for any that we might have."

  "One more question?"

  "One."

  "Do you have any idea what it does to me when you rub your breast on my chest that way?"

  She blushed, but then confessed: "Oh, I was hoping that would work!"

  [FIVE]

  The Great Room

  La Casa en Bosque

  San Carlos de Bariloche

  Rio Negro Province, Argentina

  0915 1 January 2006

  Charley had learned the night before that there were two celebrations marking the New Year. First was the family celebration, an enormous meal--there had been two roast geese on the enormous table, plus a suckling pig--starting at half past ten.

  The meal itself had been preceded by Pevsner giving a lengthy prayer/ speech--not unlike Grace--in which he offered thanks to not only the Divinity but also to a long list of saints, only a few of whom Charley had ever heard of, for God's munificence to the family--including the reuniting "now, of Svetlana, and soon, very soon, of Dmitri and Lora and Sof'ya to the bosom of those who love them" and for the "presence at our table and in our lives of Charley and Lester and Alfredo and Janos, who have lived the words of our Lord and Savior that there is no greater love than being willing to lay down one's life for another."

  At that point, Svetlana had grasped his hand--not groped him--under the table, and he had looked at her and seen tears running down her cheeks.

  Then they had moved into the Great Room where the Novogodnaya Yolka had been set up. Servants dressed as Father Frost and his granddaughter, Snegurochka the Snow Girl, danced to the music of a balalaika quartet. The balalaikas were of different sizes, the largest as big as a cello.

  Charley was a little ashamed that his first reaction to this was to decide that Father Frost's costume was designed for Santa Claus, the Snow Girl's for Mrs. Santa Claus, an
d both had probably been made in China by Buddhists.

  He was touched, and finally admitted it.

  The children--Elena clutching Ivan the Terrible to her--sang several Christmas songs, following which Father Frost and Snegurochka danced out of the room, to dance back in a few moments later heading a column of servants, who deposited gaily wrapped boxes under the tree.

  The children, Svetlana told him, would get their presents in the morning.

  Charley at this point, possibly assisted by the champagne that had been flowing since they sat down for dinner, came to the philosophical conclusion that maybe the Russians had the better idea, passing out the presents at New Year's rather than at Christmas, which was, after all, supposed to be a Christian holiday--meaning Holy Day--not one of gluttony under Santa Claus's benevolent eye.

  He shared this observation with Svetlana, who laid her hand on his cheek and kissed him.

  At five minutes to midnight, everybody was out on the pier, trailed by servants carrying an enormous grandfather clock and pushing a cart holding half a dozen bottles of champagne.

  The clock was set up, the hands adjusted, and at midnight began to bong its chimes.

  Pevsner counted loudly downward from twelve.

  As the last bong was fading, there was a dull explosion, which startled Castillo, followed by another and another and another.

  He had been enormously relieved when the first of what turned out to be a fifteen-minute display of fireworks went off.

  And enormously pleased when Svetlana had kissed him, as Anna was kissing her husband.

  The celebration today was for what Pevsner described as "the people."

  It was held in the Great Room, which Castillo, perhaps because too much champagne always gave him debilitating hangovers, decided had been converted into a throne room for Tsar Aleksandr I, Empress Anna, Grand Duchess Svetlana, the Imperial Children, and visiting nobility, such as himself, Corporal Bradley, and Colonel Munz.

  There were no actual thrones, but the chair in which Pevsner sat had a higher back than that of his wife, which in turn was higher than those of everybody else. Janos was not around, and Castillo wondered where he was.

  Father Frost and Snegurochka were back, as was the balalaika quartet. This time Father Frost and Snegurochka were standing by an enormous stack of packages. The quartet began to play. Janos appeared, ushered into the room perhaps eighty people, ranging from bearded elders to children, and then walked up to Father Frost.

  Father Frost took a small package from the stack and gave it to Pevsner, who unwrapped it, opened a small box, and took from it a wristwatch, which he then held up for everybody to see. There was a murmur of approval from "the people."

  Next, Father Frost gave Anna a package, and a moment later, she held up a string of pearls for everyone to see. Next came Svetlana, who also got a string of pearls.

  Castillo had just decided that the kids had gotten their presents earlier. He looked at Elena and saw there was a string of pearls around her neck he hadn't noticed before.

  Now what?

  Father Frost handed him a small box.

  Jesus Christ, a Rolex.

  "Hold it up, hold it up!" Svetlana hissed.

  He held it up.

  Corporal Bradley got a small package and moments later held up his Rolex for the approval of the people.

  Colonel Alfredo Munz got his Rolex.

  Well, Pevsner probably gets a discount if he buys them by the dozen.

  What did he say? "I took five percent of a lot more than a billion dollars' worth of gold, Charley. And about twice that much of platinum."

  And finally, Janos got his Rolex, and then began reading from a list of names.

  An old man left the group, approached the throne, literally tugged at his hair in front of Pevsner. Pevsner nodded. Father Frost handed the old man a package. He opened it. It contained a small, flat-screen television. The people murmured their approval.

  Janos called out another name, and a young woman approached the throne, and tugged at her hair, then took her package from Father Frost.

  It was more than an hour before the last of the people filed out of the throne room carrying their New Year's presents.

  Tsar Aleksandr rose from his throne.

  "This will displease Anna," he said. "But despite the hour, I am going to have a drink. That always wears me out. But the people expect it of me. You'll join me, of course?"

  This is where I am supposed to say, "Alek, neither Lester nor I can accept a gift like those Rolexes."

  Castillo saw that Lester was examining the new watch on his wrist.

  What the hell. He saved Pevsner's life.

  "Just one," Castillo said. "And then I'm going to take a nap. I have to fly in the morning."

  "Happy New Year, Charley!" Pevsner said, touching his glass of vodka from an ice-encrusted bottle to Castillo's glass.

  "Happy New Year," Castillo said. "Alek, those people. They were Russian, right? Or at least most of them?"

  Pevsner nodded.

  "Where did they come from?"

  "Russia," Pevsner said, obviously delighted with himself. When he saw the look on Castillo's face, he said, "I learned that from you. If I do that to Anna, she usually throws something at me."

  "How'd they get here?"

  "They're Jews, most of them. They have worked for people in the Oprichina for many years. When the Communists decided to let some of the Jews leave to go to Israel, we first warned them they probably wouldn't like it, and then we arranged for them to go first.

  "They didn't like it. The culture shock, the climate--what is it you Americans say? 'One more goddamned sunny day in L.A.'?; Tel Aviv is worse--what they saw of the future, the suicide bombers. They wanted to leave, but they didn't want to go back to Russia. So I arranged for them to come here. One day the children will join all the Russian Jews in Argentina. There are forty thousand Jewish gauchos here, originally from Eastern Europe. Did you know that?"

  Castillo nodded. "I'd heard that."

  "For now the parents work for me."

  "Alek, I don't know what to say about that Rolex."

  "How about 'thank you'?"

  "You have learned, haven't you?"

  "The people, the Jews, would say, 'Wear it in good health.'"

  "Thank you."

  [SIX]

  Aeropuerto Internacional Jorge Newbery

  Buenos Aires, Argentina

  1240 2 January 2006

  As Castillo taxied the Aero Commander to the private aircraft tarmac, he saw that there were two Gulfstreams parked side by side.

  One was his. The other bore USAF markings and was painted in the paint scheme of the Presidential Flight Detachment.

  "Oh, shit," he said.

  He parked the Aero Commander by the USAF Gulfstream.

  "I see Davidson," Munz said. "And there are several of Pevsner's people, too. And several of Duffy's."

  "And I see that Gulfstream. Alfredo, can you take Svetlana to that second safe house you mentioned? Golf and Polo, Polo and Golf, whatever?"

  "I am going with you," Svetlana announced.

  "You'll do what I say. Fun-and-games time is over. Got it?"

  She nodded.

  "What I'm going to do is get out and have a word with the pilot," Castillo said. "You stay--everybody but Max--in the airplane. If I walk toward Davidson, stay in the plane until we're gone, then take Svetlana and Lester to the Polo whatever. Got it?"

  "What is it, Charley?"

  "I suspect it's very bad news. The only thing that could make it worse is if they see me with Svetlana."

  "You don't think that's Montvale?"

  "I think it's either him or his flunky," Castillo said. "We'll soon find out. Open the door, please."

  Svetlana didn't kiss him as he walked, bent nearly double, past her seat. But she stopped him, laid her hand on his cheek, and looked for a long moment into his eyes.

  That was at least as intimate as a kiss.

  T
here were two Air Force types in flying suits standing near the nose of the Gulfstream. One drew the attention of the other to Max performing his ritual at the nose gear, and then to the man in khaki trousers and a polo shirt walking toward them.

  The taller of them, Castillo saw, was a light colonel wearing command pilot wings, the other a captain wearing ordinary wings.

  "You speak English, sir?" the lieutenant colonel asked.

  "I try," Castillo said.

  "Nice dog," the lieutenant colonel said.

  "Thank you."

  Max trotted over, sat down, and offered his paw.

  The lieutenant colonel squatted and scratched Max's ears.

  "Nice airplane," Castillo said. "Presidential Flight Detachment, right?"

  The lieutenant colonel looked up at him, then stood up, but did not reply.

  "I'm the SVR rezident in Buenos Aires, Colonel. We like to keep up on what our American friends are doing."

  He then handed the lieutenant colonel the identification card of Lieutenant Colonel C. G. Castillo, Special Forces, U.S. Army.

  The lieutenant colonel, recognizing the card immediately, smiled, then did a double take and examined it carefully.

  "I was about to tell you, Colonel," he said, "as tactfully as I could, that I just can't talk about the mission of this aircraft. But since you are the mission . . ."

  "Excuse me?"

  ". . . I will tell you, out of school, that you're probably in the deep shit."

  "How's that?"

  "Ambassador Montvale just blew his top at the ambassador. You didn't miss them by five minutes. Ambassador Montvale said, and this is almost verbatim, 'I just flew five thousand goddamned miles down here to see Lieutenant Colonel Goddamn Charley Castillo, and you're telling me you not only don't know where the sonofabitch is, but that you didn't even know the crazy bastard is in Argentina?' "

  He turned to the captain and asked, "Is that about what the ambassador said, Sam?"

  "Almost verbatim, sir," the captain said. "I somehow got the idea, sir, that Ambassador Montvale doesn't like Colonel Castillo very much."

  "I always knew that Ambassador Montvale doesn't like anybody very much, but I don't ever remember him being as pissed as he was just a couple of minutes ago," the lieutenant colonel said. "What the hell did you do, Colonel?"