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Pause.
“He is very polite, but insists he needs what he called ‘authority word.’ ”
“He means ‘password.’ Tell him ‘HAE-SHIN.’”
Bishop came back, impressed.
“How did you know that? I have what you wanted. Care to note it?”
“I have no goddamn maps here. Just tell me where the hell he is.”
“Keep your hair on. One hundred miles east of Barbados, steaming 270 degrees, ten knots. Shall I thank the captain of the Sea Spirit?”
“Yes. Then ask if we have a Navy warship between Barbados and Colombia.”
“I’ll call you back.”
East of Barbados, steaming due west. Through the Windward chain, past the Dutch Antilles and straight into Colombian waters. So far south, there was no way the Korean trafficker was coming back to the Bahamas. She had taken her last cargo off the Balmoral where she had been told. Three hundred miles; thirty hours. Tomorrow afternoon. Jeremy Bishop came back.
“Nope. There is nothing in the Caribbean.”
“Is that Brazilian major still in the Cape Verde Islands?”
“As it happens, yes. His pupils are due for graduation in two days, so it was agreed that he could see that through, then retire and bring the airplane with him. But the two American comms people have been withdrawn. They’re back stateside.”
“Can you raise him for me? Any which way?”
“I can e-mail him or text on his cell.”
“Then do both. I want his phone number, and I want him to be on it to take my call in two hours exactly. I have to go. I’ll call you from my hotel room in a hundred minutes. Just have the number I need. Ciao.”
He walked back to the floatplane. On the island the flames were flickering and dying. Most of the palms were scorched
stumps. Ecologically, it was a crime. He waved a salutation to the Marines onshore and climbed into his seat.
“Nassau Harbor, please. As fast as we can.”
He was seated in his hotel room within ninety minutes and called Bishop ten after that.
“I have it,” said the cheerful voice from Washington, and dictated a number. Without waiting for the time rendezvous, Dexter called. A voice answered at once.
“Major João Mendoza?”
“Yes.”
“We met at Scampton, and I have been the one controlling your missions these past several months. First, I want to offer my sincere thanks and congratulations. Second, may I ask a question?”
“Yes.”
“Do you remember what the bastards did to your kid brother?”
There was a long pause. If he took offense, he could just hang up. The deep voice came back.
“I remember very well. Why?”
“Do you know how many grams it took to kill your brother?”
“Just a few. Maybe ten. Again, why?”