“Why?”
“Right about now, the President is going to announce he’s accepted his resignation,” Danton replied.
“Because of that
fucked-up press conference?”
“Yes, but Porky didn’t fuck it up,” Danton said.
After a moment, Castillo replied, “Got it. And you are—what is it you say?—‘chasing the story.’ ”
“That’s right.”
“So what are you planning to do with Mr. Parker?”
“We’re trying to figure that out, Charley.”
“Is Mr. Parker also trying to evade the press, Roscoe, or do you have him in handcuffs?”
“He doesn’t want to see them, either.”
“Okay, so bring him down here,” Castillo said.
“What?”
“Bring him down here; we’ll work it out later,” Castillo said. “Got it, Edgar?”
“Jawohl, mein Führer!” Delchamps barked.
“Spare me the sarcasm,” Castillo said. “Just call me when you’re wheels-up. I need Roscoe and the Mustang down here yesterday.”
He needs me? What the hell for?
And where’s “down here”?
“Jawohl, mein Führer,” Delchamps repeated.
A moment later, Roscoe, seeing that everyone had taken their CaseyBerrys from their ears, turned his off.
“Where is ‘down here’?” Danton asked.
“Cozumel,” Yung replied.
Danton looked at him, and thought: If he says “And now that you know that I’ll have to kill you,” I’ll throw this goddamn phone at him.
“And he wants me to go down there?” Danton asked incredulously.
Yung looked at Delchamps, and said: “Small problem. Mr. Parker doesn’t have his passport.”
“I don’t have my passport, either,” Danton said.
“Catch, Roscoe,” Delchamps said, and when Danton looked at him, Delchamps tossed him a passport.
“We’ve been through the ‘I don’t have my passport’ routine with you before,” Delchamps said.
“This was locked in my desk!”
“Yes, it was,” Delchamps said.