"I think if he knew, he would have told me. He did tell me that it's been painted with the color scheme of Air Suriname, so it may be going there, operative word may. I have the new registration numbers."

"Let me have them. Wait 'til I get something to write with."

Charley covered the microphone with the heel of his hand and turned to Captain Brewster.

"When you report this conversation to General Gonzalez-and that had better be on your agenda-I'm talking to my boss, Matthew Hall, the secretary of Homeland Security. How much have you been able to overhear?"

Brewster looked uncomfortable but said, "Most of it."

"Okay, Charley," Hall's voice came faintly but clearly over the cellular, "let's have the numbers. You said Air Suriname, right?"

"Yes, sir. The numbers are Pas in Papa, Zas in Zero, 5059. Fiver-Zero-Fiver-Niner."

"Pee-Zee-fifty-fifty-nine?"

"Yes, sir."

"I'll get this to the CIA right away. Maybe, now that we have the registration numbers, their satellites may have a location on the plane."

"Sir, I just talked to Miller. He said he's come up with connections, plural, in Philadelphia."

"He say what they were?"

"We don't have secure phones, sir. He thinks I ought to hear what he's got in person. I'd like to go back up there."

"We need to know for sure what General McNab found out."

"Sir, what I was thinking was talk to General McNab, then go to Philadelphia."

"It would take you all day to go up there and back, Charley. And I agree with the secretary of defense that you should be at Bragg. Whatever happens, it will involve Gray Fox. Maybe all of Delta. You should be there, if for no other purpose than staying in the loop-and keeping me in it."

"Yes, sir. I agree. And I agree going commercial wouldn't work; it would take too long, and we're running out of time, but:"

"Yes, we are," Hall interrupted. "At four tomorrow afternoon, the police commissioner's going to tell the mayor what he knows. I don't even like to think what's going to happen when he does."

"Yes, sir. But if I had a plane, I could get up to Philadelphia and be back in a matter of hours."

"I need my plane here," Hall said, evenly, answering the question he expected next. "That's why it barely did more than a touch-and-go when it dropped you at Bragg."

"I can get a plane-I'm almost sure I can-but what I need is permission for it to land at Pope."

"What are you talking about, renting a plane yourself?"

"No, sir. My family has an airplane. I can-presuming it's not down for maintenance or something-just borrow it."

"You think it's important?"

"Yes, sir. I do. I also may need it to meet with Kennedy."

"Where is he?"

"I don't know, sir," Charley replied, comfortable in the fact that he did not know for certain if Kennedy was telling the truth about being en route to Mexico City and that it was always better to pass only information that had been confirmed. "But I expect another call at any time."

"I'm going to have to give the FBI this latest bulletin, and, when I do, they're going to ask where Kennedy is."

"I'm glad I really don't know, sir."

"Okay, Charley, I'll call Secretary Beiderman and have him get landing clearance for you."

"Thank you."

"Wait a minute, Charley. I just thought there's probably one-or more-of those Army Beechcraft King Airs:"

"C-12s," Charley furnished.

": at Fort Bragg. I can have Beiderman arrange for you to use one. For that matter, I can probably just as easily have Beiderman get you a small Air Force jet."

"Sir, that would cause problems, starting with talk. And I'd really rather have what the cops would call an unmarked airplane."

"But is your family's airplane fast enough? The clock is ticking."

"Yes, sir. It's a Learjet 45XR."

Castillo heard Hall exhale.

"You're going to borrow your family's Learjet 45XR?. Every time I think there's nothing else you could tell me that could possibly surprise me, you do. Okay, Charley. Do it your way. You better give me the registration numbers."

"Jesus, I don't know," Charley said and then corrected himself immediately. "Yeah, I do. I flew it into Baltimore just before I went to Angola. Five-Oh-Seven-Five."

"Learjet 45XR. Five-Oh-Seven-Five," Hall repeated. "Anything else, Charley?"

"I'm going to see if I can't borrow some Gray Fox radios," Charley said. "The secure kind."

"I can have Beiderman arrange that, too, if you want."

"I think the Gray Fox people who have them-or I hope do have them-would probably stall even him until McNab okayed it," Charley said. "Let me see how far I get by myself."

"Your call. Are you running into any kind of hassle with anyone down there? I thought I picked up:"

"No, sir. General Gonzalez even loaned me his aide to see that I get whatever I think I need."

He looked at Captain Brewster as he spoke.

"Okay. Keep me in the loop, Charley."

"Yes, sir, of course."

He broke that connection and pushed another autodial number.

"Maria," he said a moment later, in Spanish, "this is Carlos. I realize it's late, and I hope I didn't wake you up, but I really have to talk to Fernando."

He saw the surprise on Captain Brewster's face at the Spanish and wondered how much Spanish Gonzalez's aide knew.

He probably speaks it. Or at least has been trying hard to learn it. A wise move, considering his general is named Gonzalez and he likes to speak Spanish.

"What's up, Gringo?" Fernando Lopez, sounding sleepy, asked.

"Fernando, I need the Lear," Castillo said.

There was a just perceptible hesitation before Fernando replied, "As long as you deal with the lawyers and the IRS, Gringo, you're welcome to it. You know that."

"I mean, I need it right now. Tonight."

The hesitation was more evident this time.

"You want to tell me why?" Fernando asked.

"How soon can you find a pilot to fly it here?"

"Where's here? The last I heard from you, you were on your way to Africa."

"I'm at Fort Bragg."

"Welcome home, Gringo. How was the Dark Continent?"

"Hey! I'm not fooling around. I need you to find a pilot and have it brought up here."

"Jesus Christ, do you know what time it is?"

"Yeah, I do. This is important."

"But you're not going to tell me why?"

"And leave your Jeppesen case in it. I'm presuming you've got approach charts for Mexico?"

"Yeah, I've got them. Until the lawyers screamed, I was going to take the family to Cozumel and call it a proficiency flight. What the hell are you going to be doing in Mexico?"

"Just do what I ask. For the third or fourth fucking time, Fernando, this is important."

"Okay, okay. If you don't hear from me in an hour-your cellular is up and running?"

Charley replied by giving him the number.

"I have that number," Fernando said. "If you don't hear from me in an hour, you can presume the Lear is wheels-up for Fort Bragg. Which, I just realized, is a restricted zone. And I don't think they allow civilian airplanes to land at Pope Air Force Base. What to do about that?"

"The plane'll be cleared for the restricted area and to land at Pope. Have the pilot give them his ETA and I'll meet him and get him a ride into Fayetteville. You better give him some money, too. I haven't had a chance to cash a check lately."

"Jesus Christ, Gringo, this better be important. I think you've just destroyed my happy marriage."

"I'm sorry, Fernando."

"But it's important, right?" The line went dead in Fernando's ear.

Charley turned to Captain Brewster.

"We're going to need wheels," he said.

"I can probably get the staff duty officer's van," Brewster replied. "Where do you want to go?"

"Out to the stockade."

"Now, sir?"

"Now. And I think it would be better if I-we-had our own wheels."