The Hunters

by W. E. B Griffin

  Pevsner exhaled audibly, shook his head, and turned around and held open the door to his house.

  János followed everybody inside.

  “I just remembered where it was the last time I saw you, Vasily—excuse me, Alek,” Delchamps said.

  “Where was that?” Pevsner said.

  Delchamps turned to Castillo. “Remember when Laurent Kabila was trying to overthrow Mobutu Sese Seko in the Congo, Charley?”

  “Yeah, vaguely. What was that? 1997? 1998?”

  “Ninety-seven. Well, the good guys needed some guns, so I called Alek here—what does that stand for, ‘Aleksandr’?”

  “My name is Aleksandr Pevsner,” Pevsner said, icily, “as if you don’t already know that.”

  “Right,” Delchamps said. “So I called Aleksandr here, and he not only had what the good guys needed, and at the right price, but was prepared to drop-ship it for me. He had just acquired his first Boeing 737. Before that he had—excuse me, Aleksandr, but it’s the truth—a couple, maybe three, really ratty, worn-out Antonovs that I was always surprised could get off the ground.”

  Castillo looked at Pevsner and saw that while his face showed no emotion, Pevsner’s ice-blue eyes could have burned holes in the old CIA agent.

  Delchamps went on: “But he wanted cash on delivery, Aleksandr did. By then, I would have thought my credit was good. We’d done a lot of business before and he’d always gotten his money. And there wasn’t all that much involved in this deal. A couple hundred Kalashnikov AK-47s, ammo, a few mortars, and I think there was even a dozen light .30 caliber Browning machine guns left over from Vietnam. Right, Aleksandr?”

  “We all know you’re not here to remember the past,” Pevsner said. “Dare I hope this charade will soon come to an end?”

  “Let me finish this for Charley, Aleksandr,” Delchamps went on, casually. “So what that meant was I had to go to Kisangani—what used to be Stanleyville—with all this cash in my briefcase—”

  “Goddamn it, Charley,” Pevsner suddenly interrupted, having clearly lost his temper, “what have you done with Alfredo Munz and his family? I’ve had all of your sick humor that I can handle.”

  “The girls have been put to work in the prison kitchen,” Castillo said. “They seem to have adjusted well to it. Would you like to see a picture?”

  “If it would not be too much trouble,” Pevsner said, icily. His face was still flushed, but he seemed to have his temper under control.

  “Could we go into the living room? The pictures are in my computer. I need some place to put it down.”

  “You know the way,” Pevsner said.

  “The lady holding Señora Munz’s shoulder is my grandmother,” Castillo said, in Russian, when he’d opened the laptop and shown Pevsner how to cycle the images onscreen by using the arrow keys.

  A minute later, Castillo said, “I should be very angry at you for even considering the possibility that I would be holding them hostage. But all I am is a little sorry for you.”

  Pevsner met his eyes for a long moment, then said, “I didn’t know what to think.”

  “Your apology is accepted,” Castillo said.

  “And Alfredo?”

  “He’s near here.”

  “I want to talk to him.”

  “He won’t come here.”

  “There are some questions I have to ask him, and I want to do that face-to-face and alone.”

  “Well, he won’t come here—he doesn’t trust you, Alek—and I won’t take you to where he is. The telephone won’t do?”

  Pevsner shook his head. “I need to look in his eyes.”

  Castillo didn’t reply.

  “He trusts you, apparently,” Pevsner said.

  “I think so.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  “Let me ask that first, Alek. Do you trust me?”

  “With the caveat that we have different agendas, yes, I do.”

  “Same answer, Alek. And now let me tell you what my agenda is: I want Howard Kennedy. Let me rephrase that. I am going to have Howard Kennedy.”

  “Which means what?”

  “That I am going to run him down and then take him to the United States. The deal we have is still on. But it no longer includes Howard Kennedy.”

  “Why do you want Howard Kennedy?”

  “For one thing, I want to know what his relationship with Colonel Pyotr Sunev was …is.”

  “I don’t think Howard even knows who Sunevis.”

  “Kennedy knows who Sunev is,” Delchamps said. “We have a very reliable source who saw him and Sunev together in Cozumel. In that hotel you own there, the Grand Cozumel Beach and Golf Resort.”

  Pevsner considered that carefully but didn’t challenge it. Instead, he asked, “And if I don’t choose to give you Howard Kennedy?”

  “You don’t have any choice, Alek,” Castillo said. “I’m going to have him.”

  “Before either of us says anything more that we both might later regret, let’s get back to Alfredo Munz.”

  “You’re not proposing a swap?” Castillo asked, incredulously.

  “Now you owe me an apology,” Pevsner said. “On several levels. I don’t barter away my friends. Both Alfredo and Howard are friends of mine.”

  “You’re going to have to convince Munz of that; he doesn’t think so.”

  “That’s one of the reasons I have to see him.”

  “That brings us back to step one. I told you he’s not going to come here.”

  “I keep a suite in the Sheraton, the one here in Pilar, right off the highway, near the Jumbo,” Pevsner said. He waited until Castillo nodded, indicating he knew what he was talking about, then went on: “I use it to accommodate business associates I’d rather not have in my home.”

  “And will I bring Alfredo to your suite in the Sheraton? Come on, Alek! He’s my friend. I’m not going to set him up to be whacked!”

  “Charley, I swear before God I mean Alfredo no harm!”

  “I wish I could believe you,” Castillo said. “But why should I?”

  “Because it’s the goddamned truth, that’s why!”

  “What exactly do you want to ask him, looking into his eyes with that penetrating stare of yours?”

  “That’s really none of your business.”

  “It is if you want me to even ask him to put his neck in the garrote,” Castillo said.

  “Then we have a problem, because I won’t tell you. You’ll have to be satisfied that I mean Alfredo no harm.”

  “And I am determined that he will come to no harm,” Castillo said. “He has already taken a bullet for me and one is too many. So I suppose our conversation is over. I know you’re going to tell Kennedy he is no longer part of the deal. I have no problem with that. I can find him. But anything else you do to protect him from me will nullify our whole deal. You understand?”

  Pevsner nodded coldly.

  “I really am sorry it came to this,” Pevsner said. “I think, in the long run, we will both regret it.”

  “I need a minute alone with you, Ace,” Delchamps said, “before you kiss Aleksandr good-bye for all time. You want to take a walk for a couple of minutes, Alek, or is there someplace we can go?”

  “I will leave you alone,” Pevsner said. “When you have finished, I’ll be right outside that door.”

  “You really want to walk out of here, Ace?” Delchamps asked softly when the door had closed behind Pevsner.

  “No. I thought he would cave and he didn’t. But now I don’t know what the hell to do next.”

  “He’s one tough sonofabitch,” Delchamps said. “Let me ask you this: would Munz tell you about their conversation if they had it?”

  Castillo considered the question.

  “You’re wondering if he would tell you all about it?” Delchamps pursued.

  “He’d tell me all about it,” Castillo said ten seconds later.

  “Well, then?” Delchamps asked.

  “How do we explain our change of mind?”<
br />
  “We tell him if there is to be a meeting, it has to happen right now, and the reason for that is that he wouldn’t have time to set up a reception for Munz at the hotel.”

  “Those ex-Stasi bastards are pretty good,” Castillo said.

  “Thank you, sir. I will want to remember that, so I will write it down.”

  Castillo shrugged an apology.

  “Want me to handle Pevsner?” Delchamps asked, and then, when Castillo nodded, went to the door and pulled it open. “Deal time, Alek,” he said.

  Pevsner came into the living room and looked between Castillo and Delchamps.

  “Well?”

  “Colonel Castillo will go this far,” Delchamps said. “One, he will ask Colonel Munz if he is willing to meet with you. If Munz is willing, two, we will tell you where to meet us, and give you fifteen minutes to get there. Three, you will come alone, and if there is anything that even looks suspicious we’ll takeoff.”

  “Agreed. But I would like János to drive me.”

  Delchamps considered that for ten seconds, then said, “Okay, János can drive.”

  Pevsner nodded.

  “Let’s go, Colonel,” Delchamps said.

  Pevsner followed them to the door.

  As Castillo and Delchamps approached the car, Delchamps quietly but clearly said, “You get in the back with that damned dog, Ace.”

  “Charley!” Pevsner called from his doorway.

  Castillo turned to look at him.

  “Thank for the flour and tree syrup,” Pevsner said and smiled.

  “You’re welcome,” Castillo replied, then got in the backseat of the BMW.

  Max licked his face.

  [FOUR]

  “You open to suggestions as to how we do this, Ace?” Delchamps asked after they had left the Buena Vista Country Club.

  Castillo nodded and Delchamps offered a plan.

  “Great minds,” Castillo intoned solemnly when he had finished, “walk the same paths.”

  “You’re only saying that because you had absolutely no idea how this should be handled in a professional manner,” Delchamps said.

  Castillo took his cellular phone from his pocket and pushed an autodial button. He put the phone to his ear and, after a moment, said, “Castillo, Alex. We’re on our way back there. ETA ten minutes or less. When we get there I want that Traffik ready to move with Solez at the wheel and Munz in the back. I want Davidson and Kensington, with Car-4s and handguns—and Whizbangs, if there are any—ready to get into this Bimmer the minute we get there. Delchamps and I will transfer to the Traffik. Delchamps will need something heavier than his pistol. If there’s another Uzi there, fine. Put that and some Whizbangs in the Traffik. If not, a Car-4. There may be people watching who I don’t want to see any of this happening. Do what you can about that. Got all that?”

  “Yeah, I think so,” Darby said. “What’s going on?”

  “And make sure that Solez has a cellular I can call from this one.”

  “Both that BMW and the Traffik have radios. Did you know that?”

  “No, I didn’t. But I don’t know how to work them and there’s not time to learn.”

  “You don’t want some company on this excursion?”

  “No. The rest of you go on high alert. It’s possible that this excursion is being set up as a feint to cut down the people sitting on Kocian. The priority is still to keep him alive.”

  Alex Darby thought over what he had just been told.

  “You’re not going to tell me what this is all about?”

  “Well, one thing is to determine whether Pevsner is one of the semigood guys or the unscrupulous murderous bastard most people think he is.”

  “How do you think that determination will come out?”

  “We’re about to find out,” Castillo said, then added, “We just turned onto Route 8,” and broke the connection.

  When they reached the safe house in the Mayerling Country Club, Castillo saw that the Traffik was now parked on the driveway so that it blocked a view of the main door of the house from the street and that enough room had been left between it and the shallow steps up to the door for the BMW. From the street, no one would be able to see the BMW.

  “Les, pull between the Traffik and the house,” Castillo ordered, softly.

  “Yes, sir.”

  The door of the house was closed and Castillo could see neither Davidson nor Kensington. But when Bradley had stopped the car and Castillo started to open the door so that he could go in the house and see where the hell they were, Delchamps touched his arm and pointed toward the Traffik.

  The rear door was open and Davidson looked as if he was quickly prepared to jump into the BMW.

  Castillo waved him off.

  “There’s more room in the van,” Castillo said.

  Delchamps opened his door and ran around the front of the BMW and quickly got into the Traffik.

  “No, Max!” Castillo ordered sternly and reached around the dog and opened the rear door.

  Max looked at both open doors, decided they had been opened for him, and that he had misunderstood Castillo—that what Castillo had really said was, “Go, Max!”

  “Oh, shit!” Castillo said, then slid across the seat and followed Max into the van. He saw that Alfredo Munz was seated in the third row of seats.

  “We’re going to meet Aleksandr Pevsner,” Castillo said. “They expect us—Delchamps, Munz, and me—to be in the Bimmer. So we’ll be in this. If they hit the BMW—a real possibility—just get the hell out of the line of fire. If anybody is here, they’re probably ex-Stasi and therefore good at what they do. And while I would really like to take them out, a firefight with bodies lying all over would cause all sorts of problems I don’t need.”

  “Where do you think they’re going to hit us, Colonel?” Jack Davidson asked. “On the road somewhere? The highway?”

  “Let’s find out,” Castillo said and took out his cellular, punched an autodial button, and then the SPEAKERPHONE button.

  “¿Hola?” Pevsner’s voice loudly came over the phone.

  “You really ought to work on getting rid of the Russian accent,” Castillo said. “You really sound funny.”

  “Well?”

  “Tell me more about this suite of yours in the Sheraton,” Castillo said.

  “Alfredo has agreed to meet me with me?”

  “No. I’m thinking of taking a suite in the hotel myself,” Castillo said, “and thought I’d have a look at yours first.”

  “It’s on the fourth floor, 407,” Pevsner said. “There is a stairway, then the elevators, and 407 is the second door on the right.”

  “And who would be in 407 if I decided to call?”

  “No one. May I make a proposal?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “You tell me when you can be there and I will get there ten minutes before you do. There is a basement garage…”

  “People have been known to get whacked in basement garages.”

  “There is also an outside parking garage. But people going to and from it are far more visible than those using the basement garage. Your choice.”

  “That’s your proposal?”

  “I will have János check out the suite or he and I will check it out.”

  “And then?”

  “There is a lobby bar. If you park outside, walk across the lobby and there it is. If you park in the basement, there is an elevator. Take it to the lobby floor and then turn right. János will go there and bring you to the suite.”

  “You will come to the bar,” Castillo said.

  “All right.”

  “I can leave here in five minutes and it will take me twenty minutes to get there,” Castillo said.

  “Thank you. And tell Alfredo I said thank you.”

  “Twenty-five minutes, Alek. Be there,” Castillo said and broke the connection.

  “It’s only ten minutes from here to the Sheraton, Karl,” Munz said, in German.

  “I know,” Castillo said. �
��As soon as Davidson and Kensington get in the Bimmer, we’ll go to the basement parking garage in this. Jack, you wait five minutes and then you go there. Tell Bradley to drive slowly.”

  “I’m not sure Bradley knows where the hotel is, Carlos,” Solez said, in Spanish.

  “Good. In case somebody’s watching, let them see him looking for it as if he doesn’t know where it is,” Castillo said. “When you get to the basement, park somewhere where we can get out in a hurry. Pevsner probably will be in a big black Mercedes, an S600, operative word probably.”

  “Got it,” Davidson said. “I’m a little confused, Charley. Are you going to be in that bar or what?”

  “Not on your life. If Pevsner shows up when he’s supposed to, in the basement garage, the minute he gets out of it we’ll get out and join him. And go right to his suite. That’s when we’ll really have to have our back covered.”

  “Got it,” Davidson repeated.

  “Okay you two. Get in the BMW.”

  Davidson and Kensington moved to the car. Kensington returned to hand Castillo a small package just as Solez was starting the engine.

  Castillo opened it. It was the Micro Uzi and its magazines.

  “Not to worry, Ace,” Delchamps said. “Everybody gets a little forgetful once in a while, especially when they get older.”

  Castillo chose not to respond. Instead, he said, “Don’t get us pinched for speeding, Ricardo, but the sooner we get there, the better.”

  Castillo had seen the Sheraton Pilar Hotel before and remembered where it was, but he had never paid much attention to it. Now he wanted to.

  “Drive real slow when you get close to the hotel, Ricardo,” he ordered.

  Solez missed the turn off of Route 8. They now would have to go to the next exit, by the Jumbo shopping center, cross the highway on an overpass, and approach the hotel by a service road.

  Castillo kept himself from snapping at Solez and was glad he had when he realized that it was probably a good thing Solez had missed the turn. Now they’d have a chance to look over the hotel and the approaches to it more slowly.

  As they came close to the Sheraton Pilar Hotel and Convention Center, a fairly new brick-walled structure four or five stories high, Castillo saw, in a line of small businesses, a glass-fronted store with ECO LAUNDRY AND DRY CLEANING on the window. There were two white vans like the one Davidson had told him Bradley had chased around Mayerling on his bicycle.