Charley, if I knew who popped Masterson and why, and why they may try to pop the widow and the family.”
“I’ll tell you what I know, Vic. It’s not much. I have no idea who these people are. None. All I know is that it has something to do with Mrs. Masterson’s brother. She—just now, after we landed here—told me that the people who grabbed her in Buenos Aires want her to tell them where her brother is, and promised to kill her children and family.”
“And she didn’t tell them?”
“She doesn’t know where he is. He works for the UN in Paris, but we can’t find him.”
“Interesting.”
“She said they killed Masterson to make the point that they meant what they said.”
“And you have no idea why they want the brother?”
“No. All I know is they shot Masterson with Israeli-made nine-millimeter cartridges, and killed the Marine sergeant driving my car—and wounded a female Secret Service agent in the car—by sticking one of those through the window and emptying the magazine, also loaded with Israeli-made nine-millimeters.”
“With a Madsen?”
Castillo nodded.
“How do you know that?”
“I think Sergeant Markham saw it coming, and as he tried to move out of the way, pushed the window-up button. It was automatic, and caught the Madsen. It was still in the window when I got there.”
“That’s interesting, too. There’s not too many Madsens around. And that’s all you know?”
“And I just now learned, in a sixty-second conversation with Mrs. Masterson, about Masterson getting whacked to make the point that they want the brother at any cost.”
“Somebody’s going to have to talk to her some more,” D’Allessando said.
“I know. I don’t know how much time there will be now, but that’s why I’m here.”
“Who’s in charge?”
“I am.”
“I mean, now that they’re in the States. And after the funeral?”
“I am, Vic.”
“No shit?”
“The President just told me.”
“That’s stretching your envelope some, isn’t it, Charley?”
“Understatement of the year,” Castillo replied. “I’d like to introduce you to Mrs. Masterson, Vic. See if you can reassure her that she’s safe now.”
“I want to meet her, too,” D’Allessando said. “Now?”
Castillo nodded.
D’Allessando spoke to a lapel microphone Castillo had not noticed.
“Three coming through the side door,” he announced.
[FOUR]
Lieutenant Colonel McElroy, the aide to the commander in chief, was standing at the foot of the steps to the passenger compartment of the Globemaster.
“Sir,” he said, when he saw Castillo and the others coming, “the Masterson family is alone up there.”
“My name is Castillo. Would you please go up and tell Mrs. Masterson I’d like a brief word with her?”
“Sir, Mrs. Masterson asked that the family not be disturbed.”
“Do it, Colonel,” Colonel Torine ordered.
“Yes, sir,” Lieutenant Colonel McElroy said, and started up the stairs.
Castillo looked down the cargo compartment of the Globemaster. Corporal Lester Bradley, now wearing his dress blue uniform, was standing almost at attention while talking to a Marine captain.
Castillo walked to them.
“You look very spiffy, Corporal,” Castillo said.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Captain, what’s Corporal Bradley’s role in the ceremony?”
“May I ask who you are, sir?”
“My name is Castillo.”
“Phrased another way, Captain,” Colonel Torine added, “he’s the man.”
The captain looked at them curiously, and then replied to Torine: “Sir, immediately after the ceremony, when the sergeant’s remains are taken from the hangar, the corporal will meet up with the cask—”
“Captain,” Castillo interrupted. “I told the gunny in Buenos Aires that Corporal Bradley will accompany Sergeant Markham’s remains all the way home. I’m sure he passed that on to Sergeant Markham’s buddies. I want that to happen. Make room for him in the ceremony.”
“Sir, I’m not sure that will be poss—”
“Do it, Captain,” Colonel Torine ordered flatly.
The captain considered that just long enough for it to be perceptible, then said, “Aye, aye, sir.”
“Thank you,” Castillo said. “I’ll see you later, Bradley.”
“Yes, sir.”
Castillo saw Mrs. Masterson coming down the stairway and hurried forward.
“I’m glad you’re here, Mr. Castillo. My father is here, and the less he knows about the threats made, the better. He has a heart condition.”
“I understand,” Castillo said. “Mrs. Masterson, this is Mr. D’Allessando. Have you ever heard of Delta Force?”
“There was a terrible movie,” she said. “You mean there’s really something like that?”
“Yes, ma’am, there is. The real Delta Force is made up of the best of Special Forces. They’re not much like what you see in the movies, but they are really professional. Mr. D’Allessando has been associated with Delta for a long time, and he’s brought twenty-four men here with him to make sure you and your family are all right.”
“That’s very reassuring,” she