"A lot of people like the Madsen," Castillo said.
He handed the weapon back to Britton.
"The bolt is forward," he said. "Put the safety lever on 'S' and the rate of fire selector on 'A,' " he said, and when Britton looked at him, added, "Yeah, now, please, Jack."
Britton did as he was told.
"Okay. It is now safe to load the magazine." He handed it to him, watched as Britton inserted it, and then went on. "Okay, all you have to do now is pull the action lever back, take off the safety, and pull the trigger."
"Got it," Britton said.
"Good," Castillo said. "Now, carefully lay it down on that shelf. I don't think you're going to need it in here right now, and I want to eat my sandwich. Are you hungry, Jack?"
"No. Thanks."
"You sure? These look good," Castillo said and reached for one. Castillo was finishing a generous slice of incredibly good apfelstrudel-why I am surprised? This is the German Hospital-when there was a knock on the office door. A large man in civilian clothing came in and offered Colonel Munz a small, resealable plastic bag.
"And, mi coronel, there are Americans here for Senor Castillo."
Munz didn't reply directly. He held up the bag. Castillo saw that it held two fired cartridge cases.
"There are others, right? We won't need these in court?"
"There are twenty-four in all, mi coronel. We are still looking. It is possible that some spectators took some others as souvenirs."
Munz opened the bag and took out a brass cartridge case, examined it carefully, and then handed it to Castillo.
"Israeli," he said. "Same year stamp as the ones we found on Avenida Tomas Edison in the taxicab."
Castillo took the case and handed it to Britton.
"We now have conclusive proof that in 1999 Israel made nine-millimeter ammunition," he said.
Munz smiled at him.
"Don't smile," Castillo said. "I can't think of anything else we have conclusive proof of." He looked at Britton. "Just to satisfy my curiosity, what's in the embassy Madsen?"
Britton took a curved magazine from his pocket, thumbed a cartridge loose, and examined its base.
"Israeli, 1992," he said.
"And conclusive proof that the bad guys have fresher ammo than the good guys," Castillo said. "Not that it matters, as I'm beginning to wonder if we'll ever get a chance to shoot back."
"You want these?" Munz nodded.
"Yes, thank you," Castillo sai
d, and took the plastic bag, put the cartridge Britton held out to him in it, zipped it shut, and dropped it in his pocket.
"Americans for me?" he asked Munz's man.
"Si, senor."
Castillo gestured for them to be brought in.
A civilian-Castillo recognized his face from the brainstorming session but couldn't come up with a name-and a Marine. The man, in his middle twenties, was olive-skinned, and Castillo decided he was probably one of the Drug Enforcement Administration agents. He was carrying an M-16 rifle.
The Marine, who was in greens and had a Beretta in a field holster hanging from a web belt, was a corporal.