"Here here? Or someplace else?"
"I'm the only one here, sir. The others are stashed in hotels around Buenos Aires. Except our commo and intel sergeants who-at Mr. Darby's suggestion-I sent ahead to Asuncion."
"Where in Asuncion?"
Darby said, "They're in the Hotel Resort Casino Yacht amp; Golf Club Paraguay, Charley. Gambling, chasing ladies, maybe even playing golf-on your nickel-and incidentally looking around."
"They're not going to attract attention doing that?"
"They're traveling on Mexican passports, Colonel," D'Elia said. "Legitimate ones. They're Texicans."
He looked at Castillo to see if he understood the term.
"You're looking at one," Castillo said.
D'Elia smiled.
"With all possible respect, sir-and I admit you do talk the talk-you look like a gringo to me."
"And you don't, fortunately," Castillo said. "What about your sergeants in Asuncion?"
"No one will think they're gringos, Colonel."
"And the rest of your team?"
"Everybody but Colin Leverette can pass-has passed-as a native Latino. That's presuming Paraguay isn't that much different from Bolivia or Venezuela. Or Cuba, for that matter, although not everybody on my team has had the chance to see how Castro has fucked up the land of my ancestors."
"Colin told me he'd been to Cuba," Castillo said.
"He did fine in Cuba as a Brazilian," D'Elia said. "In Venezuela-not so many black-skinned folks-he also passed himself off as a Brazilian. He speaks pretty good Portuguese."
"He also speaks pretty good Pashtu," Castillo said.
"So do I," D'Elia said in Pashtu. "Darby and I were talking about that. We must have just missed each other over there, sir."
"You knew Alex there?"
D'Elia nodded.
"And Mrs. Sieno and I have been exchanging Cuban war stories," he said.
"Under those circumstances, welcome, welcome, Captain," Castillo said. "Just as soon as we get something to eat, I'll bring you up to speed on what's going down."
He turned to Susanna Sieno.
"How about mustering the troops in the quincho, Susanna?"
"Everybody?"
Castillo nodded, then understood her question.
"Ask Sergeant Mullroney and Lieutenant Lorimer to come watch us eat first, please. Then muster them in the quincho."
"Sit down, please, Sergeant Mullroney," Lieutenant Colonel C. G. Castillo said politely when the Chicago detective came into the dining room of the main house with Lorimer. "While we talk about what we're going to do with you."
Mullroney sat down across the table from Castillo; Lorimer sat down between Torine and Delchamps.
A plump, middle-aged woman and a younger one began distributing ham and eggs and plates of rolls.