"Isn't that Lieutenant Colonel (Designate) Naylor, General?" D'Allessando asked.
"Yes, it is."
"Thank you, sir," D'Allessando said. "Okay, we're headed for the business side of Cancun International. An airplane will be waiting for us. What I would like to suggest to anyone watching is that one of our number has been at the sauce and needs help to board the airplane. Now, will your parole permit you to help me do that?"
"I'll carry the sonofabitch aboard myself," Allan Junior said. [SIX] Laguna el Guaje Coahuila, Mexico 1105 11 February 2007 Looking with frank fascination out the window of the Cessna Mustang as it was towed under what looked like an enormous tarpaulin, General Allan Naylor saw a number of very interesting things.
There were four aircraft already in the cave/hangar/whatever it was: One of them he recognized as what he thought of as "Dona Alicia's Lear." There were two Gulfstreams, a III and a V. He presumed the III was Castillo's airplane, the one in which he and Dick Miller and the others had flown away from their retirement parade at Fort Rucker. He had no idea who the Gulfstream V belonged to.
And there was a Black Hawk helicopter, with its insignia and a legend painted on the fuselage identifying it as belonging to the Mexican Policia Federal Preventiva. Naylor knew the U.S. government had "sold" a dozen of them to Mexico to assist in the war against drugs. He had smarted at the time-and smarted again now-at the price the Mexicans had paid for them, which came to about a tenth of what the Army had paid for them. And he naturally wondered what a Policia Federal helicopter was doing here.
But what he found most fascinating was Lieutenant Colonel C. G. Castillo, who was standing with another man, a woman, and Castillo's dog, Max, watching the aircraft come into the cave. The humans were dressed identically in yellow polo shirts and khaki trousers.
Now that I think about it, just about everybody in the cave is wearing yellow polo shirts and khaki trousers. Is there something significant in that?
The woman-who was wearing an enormous gaudily decorated sombrero that looked like it belonged on the head of a trumpet player in a mariachi band-was leaning her shoulder against Castillo's and holding his hand.
And the other guy-he looks like her, and they're brother and sister-has to be Berezovsky.
What I am looking at is former Colonel Dmitri Berezovsky of the SVR, the Russian Service for the Protection of the Constitutional System; and former Lieutenant Colonel Svetlana Alekseeva, also of the Sluzhba Vneshney Razvedki.
McNab was right-she is built like a brick… outdoor sanitary facility.
"Hey, Dick," Lieutenant Colonel (Designate) Naylor called to the Mustang pilot, Major H. Richard Miller, Jr. (U.S. Army, Retired), whom he had known since his plebe year at the U.S. Military Academy. "Is that Charley's Russian spy holding his hand?"
"That's her. We call her 'Sweaty.' She calls him 'my Carlos.'"
"Nice," Lieutenant Colonel (Designate) Naylor said. "Very nice. Maybe thirteen on a scale of one to ten."
"She's okay, Allan," Miller said. "But don't let her looks dazzle you. Sweaty's's one tough little cookie."
"Here comes General McNab," Colonel Brewer said.
General McNab, when he climbed aboard the Mustang, was also wearing a yellow polo shirt and khaki trousers.
"General Naylor, welcome to Drug Cartel International Airfield," McNab said, and then, raising his voice, asked, "Everything under control, Vic?"
"I had to-hold that. With great pleasure, I darted Lammelle. He's about to come out of it. Got a place to put him on ice?"
"Just the place. I'll put him in with Roscoe J. Danton. Then when Frank wakes up, he'll have someone to talk to."
Naylor thought: Roscoe J. Danton? Is he talking about the reporter from the Times-Post?
I will be damned if I'll give him the satisfaction of asking.
McNab backed down the stair doors and said something in Russian. A moment later two burly blond men came onto the airplane.
"Over there," D'Allessando said in Russian. "Be careful, he's dangerous."
Forty-five seconds later, the deputy director of the Central Intelligence Agency was off the airplane and, slung in a fireman's carry over the shoulder of one of the burly men, was being carried toward a stainless-steel elevator door set in the rock wall.
McNab appeared again at the stair door opening.
"General," D'Allessando said, "General Naylor has given me his parole, which also covers Colonel Brewer and Lieutenant Colonel (Designate) Naylor."
"Wonderful! If we had to chain him, it would have been hard to get him down the stairs. Anytime it's convenient, General, you may disembark."
Castillo and the Russians were at the foot of the stair door when Naylor came down it. He noticed that Charley and the woman were still-or again-holding hands.
Castillo waited until Colonel Brewer, Allan Junior, and Vic D'Allessando had come down the stairs.
"At the risk of being rude, and with great respect, General Naylor, if you have something to say to me, let's get it out of the way," Castillo said.
"Colonel, I have been ordered by the President of the United States to place you under arrest. Mr. Lammelle was ordered by the President to take possession of the two Russian defectors you are believed to hold. You will, therefore, consider yourself under arrest, and when Mr. Lammelle is capable of receiving them, you will turn them over to him."
"Sir, again with great respect, that's just not going to happen. Will you explain to me, please, what your understanding of the parole you have given Mr. D'Allessando is?"
"Colonel, as I understand the Code of Honor, I have waived my right to attempt to escape or take any hostile action against my captors until after I inform you that I am withdrawing my parole. My parole covers both Colonel Brewer, whom I don't believe you know, and Lieutenant Colonel (Designate) Naylor."
"Thank you, sir. Gentlemen, may I present Dmitri Berezovsky, formerly colonel of the SVR, and Lieutenant Colonel Svetlana Alekseeva, also formerly of the SVR. They are here of their own volition, not as my prisoners. Having said that, I am responsible for their being here, and consider them to be under my protection."
"I see the way you're hanging onto her, Charley," Allan Junior said. "I wondered what that was all about."
General McNab laughed. General Naylor glared at him.
"This is very difficult for my Carlos," Sweaty flared. "You will not mock him!"
"Colonel Sweaty, I wouldn't think of it!" Allan Junior said.
"Only my friends can call me Sweaty," she replied evenly.
"Right now, Colonel Sweaty, getting to be your friend is right at the top of my list of things to do. Let me begin by saying I love your sombrero and that adorable puppy."
Berezovsky, having wordlessly shaken hands with General Naylor and Colonel Brewer, now offered his hand to Allan Junior.
"Be careful, Colonel," Berezovsky said. "Her bite is twice as bad as her bark."
"I'm not a lieutenant colonel yet. Just picked to be one. I'm glad to meet you."
"If our official business is over for the moment, General Naylor?" Castillo said.
"I have nothing further to say to you officially, Colonel."
"In that case, Uncle Allan, I'm damned glad to see you, even in these circumstances."
"Me, too, Charley," Naylor said, and after an awkward fifteen seconds, they embraced.
"Lunch is being prepared," Sweaty said. "The beef, compared to Argentina, is unbelievably bad."
"Do we have to do anything for Lammelle, Vic?" Castillo asked.
"Castration with a dull knife might be a good idea, but if you're asking because of the dart, no." He looked at his watch. "He should be coming out of it in the next ten minutes or so. I'd love to be there when he wakes up and finds those two Russians sitting on him. He'll think he's been shipped off to Moscow. What are they, Charley? Spetsnaz?"
"Ex."
"Where'd you get them?"
"We borrowed them from Sweaty's and Dmitri's cousin. He flew a dozen up yesterda
y from Argentina after Sweaty had another good idea."
"Which was?"
"I'll tell you when we're upstairs," Castillo said, and gestured toward the elevator. Then he added, "Thank God you can't trust lawyers-maybe especially Mexican lawyers. Isn't there a politically incorrect joke about that?"
"Meaning what?"
"Cutting a long story short, this place was supposed to have been burned to the ground after they exploded all the butane. But the Mexican lawyer who was supposed to do that-was trusted to do that-didn't."
"Aleksandr will kill him," Sweaty said.
"Pay attention, Allan," Castillo said. "That was not a figure of speech."
General Naylor thought: And that comment was not Charley being cute. [SEVEN] Castillo led the group into a dining room and waved them into chairs around an enormous table. Naylor saw there was already one man sitting at the table-I wonder who that guy is?-and two burly, fair-skinned men armed with Uzi submachine guns, one sitting by each of the room's two doors.
And I don't think Charley's pulling our leg about the Spetsnaz, either.
They look like Russians and they look like special operators.
Proof of that came immediately when Sweaty said something to them in Russian, to which one of them responded as an enlisted man does to an officer.
Castillo added something-gave an order-in Russian and the other Russian popped to attention and said something that was obviously, "Yes, sir."
Both of them left the dining room.
"Sweaty ordered one of them to get us some coffee," Castillo explained, "and I told the other one to fetch Mr. Danton."
"May I ask questions?" General Naylor said.
"Yes, sir. Of course," Castillo replied.
"Danton is the reporter?"
"Yes, sir. That was Sweaty's idea. I'll get into that in a minute."
"And General McNab? Has he also given you his parole?"
"Charley never asked me for it, General," McNab answered for him.
Thirty seconds later, one of the Russians led Roscoe J. Danton into the room.
"Please have a seat, Mr. Danton," Castillo said. "I presume you know everybody?"
"I don't know who these gentlemen are," Danton said, indicating Colonel Brewer, Allan Junior, Vic D'Allessando, and Aloysius Francis Casey.
"My name is Casey," Aloysius said.
"Colonel Brewer is my senior aide-de-camp," General Naylor said. "And that's my son, Lieutenant Colonel (Designate) Allan Naylor, Junior."
"I try very hard to keep my name out of the newspapers, Mr. Danton," D'Allessando said. "Think of me as a friend of Charley's. You can call me Vic."
"And was that Frank Lammelle they just carried into my cell?"
"Yes, it was," Castillo said. "And I'm crushed that you think of that lovely room with an en suite bath and such a lovely view as a cell."
"If there's a guy with a submachine gun at the door keeping you inside," Danton said, "that's a cell."
"Point taken," Castillo said. "I think I should begin this by telling you, Mr. Danton, that General Naylor, Colonel Brewer, and Lieutenant Colonel (Designate) Naylor are not here voluntarily. They have given me their parole."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"It means that under the Code of Honor, they will-"
"What 'Code of Honor'?" Danton interrupted.
"I don't really know. I think of it as the Code of Honor," Castillo said, and looked at General Naylor. "Is there a more formal name, sir?"
"I don't really know," Naylor said. "What it means, Mr. Danton, is that I-personally and on behalf of my staff-have given Colonel Castillo our parole, which means that we will neither attempt escape nor undertake any hostile action without first notifying him that we have withdrawn our parole."
"You're serious, aren't you?" Danton asked, and when Naylor nodded, said, "You take that Code of Honor business seriously? Incredible!"
"I don't think that's the only thing you're going to hear, or see, in the next couple of days that you may find incredible," Castillo said.
Two Russians appeared with a huge thermos of coffee and a tray with cups, cream, and sugar.
Castillo waited until the fuss caused by that dissipated and then rapped his spoon against the thermos. Everybody looked at him.
"Here we go," he said. "While I am a graduate of the U.S. Army Command and General Staff School-where one learns how to write a staff study-I have to confess that when it was time for me to actually go to Fort Leavenworth, either they really couldn't find room for me, or an unnamed senior officer decided I could make a greater contribution to the Army by running his errands. So he pulled some strings, the result of which was that I took the course by correspondence-in addition to my other duties-rather than in the academic setting of Leavenworth."
General Naylor realized he was smiling, and when he looked, he saw General McNab-the unnamed senior officer-was, too.
"The result of that was I cannot come up with as good a staff study as most people can. But as General McNab has told me so many times over the years, you gotta go with what you got.
"Statement of the Problem: The Russians and the Iranians, probably with a lot of help from former East Germans and maybe the Czechs and even the Japanese, none of whom find anything wrong with using biological weapons on soldiers and civilians, came up with a substance we now call Congo-X, because it was manufactured in a laboratory in the Congo.
"Our own expert in this area, Colonel J. Porter Hamilton, cutting to the chase, describes Congo-X as 'an abomination before God.'
"Surprising me not a hell of a lot, Congo-X slipped through the cracks at Langley. It was the stated opinion of the CIA that what was going on in the Congo was a fish farm.
"We learned what was really going on there through dumb luck-"
"Colonel," Roscoe J. Danton interrupted, "if I take notes, will I be wasting my time?"
"I think taking notes is a good idea."
"I'll need my laptop."
Castillo said something in Russian, and then, "Your laptop's on the way. Now, where was I?"
"Something about dumb luck," Danton said.
"Oh, yeah. What I should have said was 'stupidity and incompetence.' I've got to go off at a tangent here. I'm sure that everybody here will be surprised when I tell you that there are some Russians who have moral qualms about biological warfare because of their deep religious convictions. And even more surprised that some of these good Russians get to rise high in the ranks of the Sluzhba Vneshney Razvedki, which in English is the Service for the Protection of the Constitutional System.
"And I'm sure that you will be shocked to hear that the SVR is just as bad as our beloved CIA when it comes to bureaucratic infighting and empire-building. The head villain here is Vladimir Putin, who-despite what title he's running under-actually runs the SVR, which among other things ran the 'Fish Farm' in the Congo.
"In an attempt to restore the SVR to the sort of glory their predecessor secret police organization had before the Soviet Union imploded, Putin decided that a number of people-Russians, Germans, Austrians, Argentines, and Americans, the latter including your lecturer here today-had to be whacked or eliminated.
"He succeeded in whacking the German, a journalist who was asking too many questions about German involvement in supplying the Fish Farm, and the Austrians, who had been deep-cover CIA assets successfully engaged over the years in getting Russians and other Eastern Bloc people to switch sides.
"The attempted assassination of the Argentine failed, but Putin still had high hopes of taking me out when I went to the German's funeral. The murdered German worked for the Tages Zeitung newspaper chain, which, as most of you know, I own-"
"You own the Tages Zeitung chain?" Danton asked incredulously.
Castillo nodded. "Incredible, right? Stick around. It gets better. Anyway, they knew I would go to the funeral. So Putin sent a team of assassins-former members of the Hungarian Allamvedelmi Hatosag-to Germany, with orders to report to Colonel Berezovsky
, the SVR rezident in Berlin. Berezovsky would tell them when and where to whack me when I showed up at the funeral."
Danton pointed to Berezovsky and asked with his eyebrows: Him?
Castillo nodded.
"It was to be Colonel Berezovsky's final assignment. When he was finished whacking me and went-with his sister, Lieutenant Colonel Svetlana Alekseeva, the SVR rezident in Copenhagen-to an SVR meeting in Vienna, they were going to be charged with embezzlement and flown off to Moscow. Berezovsky was a threat to Putin's control of the SVR, and had to go. And so did his sister.
"The mistake Putin made-the stupidity he demonstrated-was to underestimate Colonel Berezovsky. Berezovsky knew all about Putin's plans for him and Sweaty-"
Danton pointed at Svetlana and asked, "'Sweaty'?"
"Only to her friends," Castillo said. "Anyway, Berezovsky had gotten in touch with the CIA station chief in Vienna, Miss Eleanor Dillworth, and told her he and his sister were willing to defect.
"Miss Dillworth lost no time in telling Jack Powell, and Jack Powell lost no time in telling our late President of the genius of his Vienna station chief, implying that Miss Dillworth had brilliantly entrapped Dmitri and Sweaty when, in fact, they had walked in her door.
"Colonel Berezovsky was not very impressed with Miss Dillworth. He was in fact very nervous about what was going to happen in Vienna. He thought she was entirely capable of throwing him and Sweaty under the bus if anything-any little thing-went wrong.
"And then Dmitri saw in the Frankfurter Rundschau a picture of me getting off my Gulfstream on the way to the funeral. He knew that Karl Wilhelm von und zu Gossinger was also a lieutenant colonel in the U.S. Army with alleged intelligence and Special Operations connections. And who had his own airplane.
"Brilliant fellow that my future brother-in-law is, he reasoned-"
"Did you say 'future brother-in-law'?" Danton asked incredulously.
General Naylor thought: That's exactly what he said. My God!
"I thought everybody knew," Castillo said. "Love is where you find it, Mr. Danton."
The outlaws pa-6 Page 42