The Hostage Part 53

Castillo didn't reply. He looked past her for a long moment, told himself to keep his thoughts private. But when he looked back at Mrs. Masterson, the scene of the shot-up emba.s.sy BMW fresh in his mind, he said, "His name was Sergeant Roger Markham, Mrs. Masterson. He was twenty years old. And in my judgment, that very nice young man would still be alive and Special Agent Schneider would not be in a hospital bed with three bullet wounds-and her jaw wired shut-if you had been truthful about the people who abducted you."

"How dare you talk to me in that manner?"

"My orders are to protect you and your children, Mrs. Masterson. I have done that to the best of my ability- and will continue to do so-until I am relieved of the responsibility. But there is nothing in my orders requiring me to politely pretend I think you were telling the truth to the officers investigating your abduction and your husband's murder when you and I both know you were lying."

He met her eyes for a moment, then nodded, and went down the stairs to the cargo section of the fuselage.

Twenty minutes later, Chief Master Sergeant Dotterman walked up to Castillo, who was sitting on the floor of the fuselage-a good deal of experience in riding Globemasters had taught him the floor was far more comfortable than the aluminum pipe-supported nylon seats-and mimed that Castillo should put the headset back on.

When he had done so, Dotterman leaned over him and flipped the switch on the headset to INTERCOM.

"Castillo, you on?" Torine's voice asked.

"Yes, sir."

"You want to come up here, please?"

"Yes, sir."

Well, I put Jake Torine on the spot, didn't I?

In addition to flying the airplane and his other worries, he's had to contend with a furious female who didn't like being called a liar and wasted no time whatever to complain to the most senior officer she could find.

And he didn't need that. Torine is one of the good guys.

But am I sorry I told her what I thought?

Not one G.o.dd.a.m.n little bit!

Castillo pulled himself to his feet and went through the fuselage again and up to the c.o.c.kpit. There was no way he could avoid seeing Mrs. Masterson, but if she saw him, she gave no sign.

He walked between the pilot's and copilot's seats, and when Colonel Torine didn't seem to be aware of his presence, leaned down and touched his shoulder.

Torine turned and looked up at him, smiling.

"Dotterman told me you were on the floor back there," Torine said. "If you want to lay down, Charley, and G.o.d knows you have every reason to be tired, just pull the armrests out from one of the seats. I've even got a blanket and pillow I'll loan you."

He's neither p.i.s.sed nor embarra.s.sed, which he would be if the Widow Masterson had complained to him about me.

Well, maybe she's waiting to tell the President what a cold-hearted b.a.s.t.a.r.d I am.

And I really don't care if she does.

"Thanks, but I'm not sleepy, sir."

"Well, then, maybe you'd like to sit in the right seat for a while and see how real pilots aerial navigate over the Amazon jungle?"

"Is that where we are, over the Amazon jungle?"

"I don't know where we are," Torine said. He nodded at the copilot. "I'm relying on him, and my painful experience with him has been that he often gets lost in a closet. How about getting out of there, Bill, and we'll see if this Army aviator can find out where we are?"

The copilot smiled and unfastened his harness.

When Castillo had taken his seat and strapped himself in, the copilot leaned over him and pointed out a screen on which their location was shown. A well-detailed electronicmap showed that they were about two hundred miles from Buenos Aires, a few miles north of Rosario. The screen also showed their alt.i.tude, airspeed, course, and the distance and time to alternate airfields. Castillo was familiar with the equipment. There was a civilian version of it in the Lear Bombardier. Guided by data from three-or more-satellites fed through a computer, the location and ground speed provided on the screen was accurate within six feet and three miles per hour.

I wonder if Tom got Fernando permission to land at Keesler?

"That gadget takes all the fun out of flying," Colonel Torine said. "It was much more fun when you could stick your head out into the slipstream and see if the highway was still under you."

[FOUR].

Keesler Air Force Base Biloxi, Mississippi 2035 25 July 2005 As Castillo sat in the jump seat while Torine lined the Globemaster up with the Keesler runway and then smoothly sat the huge airplane down, he could see, bathed in the light of maybe a dozen pole-mounted banks of high-intensity floodlights, the Boeing 747-the Air Force called it the VC-25A, which when the President of the United States was aboard became Air Force One-parked at the end of the taxiway paralleling the runway. It was being protected not only by sentries but also by a half dozen Humvees with .50 caliber machine guns.

"Three-Zero-One on the ground at three five past the hour," Torine said into his microphone. "Close me out, please. And taxi instructions, please."

"Air Force Three-Zero-One, this is Keesler Ground Control. Halt in place at the termination of your landing roll. Be advised that you will be met by a follow-me vehicle. Be advised that you will be met by a vehicle which will take Major C. Castillo from the aircraft to his ground destination. Acknowledge."

"Keesler," Torine responded, "Three-Zero-One understands halt in place at termination of landing roll. Further understand follow-me vehicle will be there. Further understand Major Castillo will be taken by a second vehicle to his ground destination."

"That is correct, Three-Zero-One."

The copilot touched Torine's shoulder and then pointed out the window. An Air Force blue pickup truck with a FOLLOW ME sign mounted on the bed and a GMC Yukon were sitting side by side on a taxiway access ramp.

"Dotterman, you heard that?" Torine asked.

"I'm by the side door, Colonel."

Torine turned to Castillo.

"Why do I think your ground destination is that 747?"

"Keesler," the copilot said into his microphone. "Three-Zero-One is halted on the runway."

"We have you in sight, Three-Zero-One," ground control replied.

"Colonel," Dotterman announced, "here comes a Suburban and a Follow-Me. The Suburban sees me. He's coming up this side of the fuselage."

"That's probably a Yukon, Dotterman," Torine said.

"What's the difference?"

"I don't know," Torine confessed.

"People getting out of the whatever-the-h.e.l.l-it-is," Chief Master Sergeant Dotterman reported.

When Colonel Torine started to unfasten his harness with the obvious intention of leaving his seat, Castillo got off the jump seat, folded it out of the way, and stood in the c.o.c.kpit door. He felt Mrs. Masterson's eyes on him. He met them for a moment, and then looked away.

Thirty seconds later a tall, slim, Marine lieutenant colonel in dress blues, to which splendor had been added the golden aiguillettes worn by aides to the commander in chief, appeared at the head of the stairs.

He glanced at Castillo then headed straight for Mrs. Masterson.

"Mrs. Masterson, I'm Lieutenant Colonel McElroy, an aide to the President. What's going to happen next is the aircraft will taxi to a hangar. Amba.s.sador and Mrs. Lorimer will come onboard at that time . . ."

"I'm Special Agent Willkie of the Secret Service," a stocky man announced in Castillo's ear. "Are you Mr. Castillo?"

Castillo was annoyed at the interruption. Mrs. Masterson had locked eyes with him again, and had been paying far more attention to him than to the President's aide.

And she wasn't angry. It wasn't a "Now you're going to get yours, you sonofab.i.t.c.h" look.

It was an "I need your help" look. Or a "We have to talk" look.

Or both.

What's going on?

And now this sonofab.i.t.c.h is in the way!

Castillo stopped himself at the last split second from pus.h.i.+ng the Secret Service agent out of the way.

"I'm Castillo."

"Will you come with me, please, sir? The President would like a word with you."

Castillo nodded.

Special Agent Willkie started down the stairs. As Castillo turned to follow him he looked at Mrs. Masterson again. Their eyes locked again.

She looks distressed, almost frightened.

She doesn't want me to leave.

Mrs. Masterson stood up and pushed Lieutenant Colonel McElroy to one side and called, "Mr. Castillo!"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"May I have a moment alone with you, please?"

"Yes, ma'am. Of course."

She brushed past McElroy and walked up to the c.o.c.kpit opening. She got so close that Castillo backed up, which pushed him right up against Torine.

"What can I do for you, ma'am?" Castillo asked. "Is something wrong?"

She looked up at him. He saw tears forming.

"I was afraid to say anything in Buenos Aires, Mr. Castillo," she said. "My priority was keeping my children safe."

He nodded.

Elizabeth Masterson took a deep breath.

"But now we're out of Argentina. We're here." She paused, and then went on, slowly and carefully, as if she had rehea.r.s.ed what she was going to say: "The people who abducted me wanted me to tell them where my brother is. They said that unless I told them, they would kill my children, one at a time. And they said they would kill my children and my parents if I said anything about it. And then they killed Jac-" Her voice caught. She swallowed and went on, "Then they killed my husband to show me they mean what they say."

"And you don't know where your brother is, do you?" Castillo asked, gently.

She shook her head.

Castillo put his hands on her arms.

"Listen to me, Mrs. Masterson. You have my word that no one is going to hurt your children. Or your parents. Or you . . ."

"I just didn't know what to do. That's why I didn't-"

"Mr. Castillo, the President is waiting!" Secret Service Special Agent Willkie impatiently announced.

"He's just going to have to wait," Castillo snapped, and then looked down at Mrs. Masterson again.

She was shaking her head and smiling through her tears.

He looked at her quizzically.

"I knew I was going to have to tell somebody," she said. "And I guess I was right in choosing you."

"I don't under-"

"How many people do you think there are who, on being told the President of the United States is waiting for them, would say, 'He's just going to have to wait'?"

"That just may be an indication that I act impulsively," Castillo said.

"No, Mr. Castillo. What it is is that you're what Alex Darby told me you are."

He looked at her quizzically again.

She explained: "One really tough sonofab.i.t.c.h, and just the guy you need in your corner when you're really in trouble."

"Well, if you believe that, ma'am, please believe I'm in your corner."

"Mr. Castillo, for G.o.d's sake, the President is waiting!" Special Agent Willkie called.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," Castillo said.

She reached up and kissed his cheek, said, "Thank you," and went back to her seat.

Castillo looked at Colonel Torine.

"You heard all that, right?"

Torine, his face stern, nodded.