Now how the hell are you going to do that?
"Finally, to ensure everyone's working on the same page, and to ensure that someone sitting behind a desk in Washington doesn't start to try to micromanage what we're going to do here, there will be no communication by any means-radio, e-mail, or telephone-with any agency in Washington unless it has been first vetted by the ambassador or myself."
"You're telling me, sir, that I'm forbidden to communicate with the bureau?" Yung demanded.
"Thank you for the opportunity to make myself perfectly clear, Agent Yung, as apparently my request to finish without interruption also went unheard," Castillo said icily. "You are forbidden to communicate with the bureau-or anyone else-absent the approval of the ambassador or myself in every instance. Got it?"
There was a moment's hesitation. Then a cold, "I've got it."
"Now, are there any questions or comments?" There were far fewer questions and comments than Castillo expected.
There is, however, a sullen, bubbling resentment toward Presidential Agent Castillo that can be cut with a knife.
But I think trying to be a nice guy would have made things even worse.
"Well, if that's it, gentlemen, thank you for your time and attention. Now let's get to work. Mr. Darby and Mr. Santini, will you remain behind, please?" "Will you be needing me for anything else, Mr. Castillo?" Ambassador Silvio asked, when everyone but Darby and Santini had left the room.
"If you would, sir. Give me another minute."
"Of course."
"Tony, Alex, that commo block doesn't apply to either of you. But I couldn't keep just the FBI off the horn. And I really didn't want some hotshot second-guessing what we're going to try to do here." He looked at Darby. "Remember the Langley hotshots with access to a satellite phone in Afghanistan, Alex?"
"Painfully," Darby chuckled.
"Joel said you were really a hardnose," Santini said. "You did very well in here just now, Ace."
"I wish I thought so."
"I thought so, too," Ambassador Silvio said. "I did wonder, however, why you claimed my decision not to go for extradition as your own?"
"We had a saying in Afghanistan, sir, when we did something we suspected might get us in hot water. 'Screw it. What are they going to do, send me to Afghanistan?'"
Silvio chuckled.
"There's also an expression, 'If you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen.' But that was gracious of you, Mr. Castillo. I'm grateful."
"Sir, do you think you could bring yourself to call me 'Charley'?"
"Of course. Thank you. My first name is Juan. My friends usually call me John."
"My real first name is Carlos, sir, and with your permission, I will continue to call you 'sir' and 'Mr. Ambassador. '"
"Charley, who are these two agents they're sending down?" Santini asked.
"They're both ex-Philadelphia cops. We worked with them when we were looking for the 727. The lady was a sergeant in intelligence, and the guy worked deep cover for years for counterterrorism. Hall was impressed with both of them, and told Joel to recruit them. Joel just got them out of the training academy early to work in Hall's office. So they were available."
"What are you going to do with them?"
Well, as far as the sergeant is concerned, I am going to look passionately into her beautiful eyes and get as much cabernet sauvignon down her lovely throat as possible.
"This is why I asked you to stay, Mr. Ambassador," Castillo said. "Alex, I was at the hospital when you and Lowery were talking with her-"
"Munz told me you were there," Darby interrupted.
"-and I had the feeling, Alex, that you weren't getting the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but."
Darby's eyes first registered surprise, and then hardened.
"Charley, she was coming out of the drug; she didn't know what she was saying."
"She knew enough to be very concerned about her kids," Castillo said. "But when it came to any detail of her abduction, she drew a blank. Not a partial blank, Alex, a blanket blank."
"That was not the feeling I had," Darby said.
"Well, what we're going to do now is go over to the hospital so that you-and if you can spare the time, Mr. Ambassador, you, too-can introduce her to Tony and me. At which time, Tony will ask her what happened, and what she remembers."
Darby shook his head.
"Why would she lie? About what?" he asked.
"I think Mr. Cast-Charley-is suggesting that her abductors told her to tell you-us-as little as possible, and threatened her," Silvio said.
"Yes, sir," Castillo said. "And we need all the information we can get."
"After they blew Jack away," Darby pursued, "it seems to me she would want to tell us anything we wanted to know."
"Unless they threatened her children," Castillo said. "If they were willing to blow her husband away, she knew they'd be willing to hurt the kids. Kill the kids. Or maybe her family. Her father and the brother."
"I think you're really reaching, Charley," Darby said.
"What brother?" Santini asked.
"He works for the UN," Castillo said. "That's about all I know, except what Alex told me about his not getting along with Masterson."
"I met him once, years ago," Silvio said. "He has some sort of liaison, coordination-of-agencies job in Paris. I was thinking of perhaps trying to get in touch with him, so that he could break this news to his father, who has some sort of heart problem."
"Sir-Alex, do you know his name?"
"Lorimer," Alex said. "Jean-Pierre, Jean-Paul, something like that. French. The ambassador's-Betsy's father's-first name is Philippe."
"They're French?"
"Maybe way back, way way back, like Jack's family," Darby said. "Jack used to delight in telling people who hated the South that there were three Mastersons-'free men of color'-who were Confederate officers, two in the navy and one in the army. If he was really pulling their chain, he'd say the family had made its money in the slave trade."
Silvio chuckled.
"Was there money, Alex?" Castillo asked. "Before he was run over by the beer truck?"
"Not that kind of money, but yeah. Both families are more than-what's the word?-'comfortable.' Sugar, I think, and cotton. Growing it and dealing in it."
"Mr. Ambassador," Charley said, "I was going to suggest that you get in touch with the State Department and see if we can get a location, maybe even a telephone number, on the brother. In case we can't get that information from Mrs. Masterson."
"I'll get right on it," Silvio said, "and if you'd like, I'll go to the German Hospital with you and introduce you and Tony to Mrs. Masterson."
"Thank you, sir. That will be very helpful." [SIX] The German Hospital Avenida Pueyrredon Buenos Aires, Argentina 1305 23 July 2005 El Coronel Alfredo Munz of SIDE walked up to them as they entered the lobby of the hospital.
"Your Excellency, gentlemen," he said in Spanish. "What a fortunate happenstance. I was about to call Senor Castillo and ask if he could spare me a moment of his time."
"Fortunate happenstance," my ass. Munz wasn't surprised at all to see us. He was waiting for us, which means he knew we were coming here.
How did he do that?
He's got somebody inside the embassy, more than likely, to keep an eye on things generally and the ambassador in particular. Somebody who heard the ambassador call for his car to bring us here, or someone listening to that allegedly encrypted radio in his car, or Darby's, or maybe hearing the Marine guard calling Lowery to update him on the ambassador's location.
Why am I surprised? Both Darby and Santini told me SIDE's good, and with this business going on, they've got their act in high gear.
But what does he want with me?
"Mi coronel, I am at your disposal," Castillo said, and then, to the ambassador, "Sir, why don't you go up to Mrs. Masterson's room? I know where it is and I can catch up with you." Munz led Castillo to a corner of the lobby.
"You have at once greatly d
isappointed several important people in the Ministry of Information, Herr Gossinger," Munz said in German, "and added a little excitement to what I'm sure you and I would both regard as their rather boring and mundane lives."
Oh, shit. He found out I entered the country as Gossinger.
And I never went to the Ministry of Information to register as a journalist.
Castillo smiled at him.
"How is that, Herr Oberst?" he replied in German.
Munz handed him a sheet of paper. It was a copy of the immigration form Castillo had filled out on the airplane and handed to the immigration officer at the airport. It also had his photograph, obviously taken by a good and unobtrusive camera as he stood at the immigration booth.
"They so wanted to explain to a prominent German journalist how concerned the Argentine government is with this sad situation, and then, when you failed to show up at the Ministry of Information, as you promised to do, they thought that perhaps this German fellow had something to do with the villains we're looking for."
"Actually, my name is Gossinger," Charley began.
"I know. I took the trouble to find out. The German embassy told me you are not only a distinguished foreign correspondent for the Tages Zeitung, but the great-great-grandson of the founder. What a wonderful cover! A second persona that is real."
"I feel like a kid caught with my hand in the cookie jar. What happens now?"
"I've assured them that not only have I informed you of our efforts to get to the bottom of this situation, but also that I told you it would be unnecessary to register with the Ministry of Information. There is no longer a problem."
"Thank you."
"And I have this for you, too."
He handed him a small, plastic-covered card. It read "Corps Diplomatique" and had his photograph and Gossinger's name on it.
"A diplomatic carnet, in case one of our ever-alert police would ask why you're carrying a pistol."
"A pistol?"
"Actually, it was my intention to loan you one, but I see under your suit coat that you're already carrying one in the small of your back."
"The ambassador lent it to me."
"Karl-you don't mind if I call you 'Karl,' do you?"
"Herr Oberst, you may call me anything you wish."
"There are some very dangerous people here in Argentina, I'm afraid, and I'm not talking about our cottage kidnapping industry. I haven't been able to come up with any connection between Herr Masterson and them-from what I have, he's, in that charming North American phrase, 'Mr. Clean'-but that doesn't mean there isn't one. And these people have proven that murder is just part of their game. I would be very sorry if they decided to eliminate you."
"You don't think this is a kidnapping, do you?"
"Do you?"
"Well, they abducted her, so that's a kidnapping. But it smells."
"Yes, it does. You have no ideas whatever?"
"None."
"If you did, would you tell me?"
Castillo met his eyes.
"Yes, I would. Between us, what did you think when Mrs. Masterson was being… I guess the word is 'interrogated' by Darby and Lowery?"
"I would not describe her responses as fully forthcoming."
"What do you think she's hiding?"
"There may be more to it than this, but the first thing that came to my mind was that they threatened her- probably her children-if she revealed anything she had learned about them."
"Why didn't they kill her?"
"They want something from her. Maybe Masterson didn't bring the ransom with him. And they are threatening to kill the children if she doesn't get it to them. I just don't know."
"Tony Santini is an experienced Secret Service agent-"
"I know. Did he really injure himself falling off the President's limousine?"
Castillo thought a moment before replying, "The Vice President's limousine."
"How embarrassing for him!"
"Anyway," Charley said, ignoring the subject, "the ambassador's going to introduce him as the Secret Service man assigned to protect her and the children, and he's going to use that to see what he can get out of her."
"And is he going to tell her of your appointment as the generalissimo in charge?"
"You heard about that, too, did you, Alfredo?"
"Like yourself, Karl, I'm sure, I like to keep my ear to the grindstone."
"Nose to the grindstone, ear to the ground," Castillo smilingly corrected him.
"Thank you," Munz said.
"There's a planeload of FBI agents on their way down here to assist in the investigation. And two Secret Service agents to assist me. One is a really bright female with a good deal of experience in intelligence. I'm going to put her on the protection detail, hoping she'll be able to get to Mrs. Masterson. The other one is a very good, street-smart cop who worked under deep cover in really bad situations for years. I'm going to have him look at what the FBI comes up with, and I would be grateful if you would let him see what you've come up with."
"Certainly, but there's not much."
"There's also an Air Force transport on its way to transport Masterson's body and his family home."
"Are you going with them?"
Jesus, I never thought about that!
"Maybe. But if I do, I have the feeling that I'll be coming back."
Munz nodded, then put out his hand.
"I'm glad we had this chance to chat, Karl."
"Thank you for everything, Alfredo." [SEVEN] Mrs. Elizabeth Masterson was not in the intensive care room where she had first been placed, but Castillo had no trouble in finding the room to which she had been moved. There were four uniformed Policia Federal, under the command of a sergeant, and two men in civilian clothing-one of them Paul Sieno, the CIA agent- hovering around a door near the end of the corridor.
Sieno nodded at Castillo, who then knocked on the door. A moment later, Ambassador Silvio opened it a crack, and then all the way.
"Come in, Mr. Castillo," he said, and as Castillo went through the door, the ambassador went on, "Betsy, here's Mr. Castillo."
Mrs. Masterson was sitting up in a hospital bed. She was in a nightgown that had to be hers from home, and Castillo saw there were two other women in the room, almost certainly Darby's wife and the ambassador's. They were sitting in chairs along the wall, and Darby and Santini were leaning on the wall next to them.
Castillo walked up to the bed.
"The President has asked me to tell you how terribly sorry he is, Mrs. Masterson."
That little lie came quickly to my lips, didn't it?
Well, if the President had thought about it, he would have.
"That's very kind of him," Mrs. Masterson said. She did not offer her hand and her smile was visibly an effort.
"And if I may, I would like to offer my own condolences."
When there was no response to this except the frozen smile, Castillo went on, "My orders, ma'am, are first to absolutely guarantee your safety, and that of your children, and then to get you to the United States just as quickly and as safely as possible."
The smile remained fixed, and she said nothing.
"Has Ambassador Silvio told you that Mr. Santini has many years' experience on the Secret Service Presidential Protection Detail?"
"Yes, he has."
"And the Argentine authorities have provided us with some of their very best men to help Mr. Santini."
"So the ambassador has told me."
"We hope to have word very soon about the arrival of the aircraft the President has sent down here. One of them is a transport, which will carry you and your family to the United States just as soon as you feel up to it, and the other is bringing both a team of FBI experts to assist in the investigation, and two Secret Service agents for your protection detail. One of them is a female agent."
Mrs. Masterson nodded.
"I'm very much aware, Mrs. Masterson, that this is a difficult time for you…"
Mrs. Masterson s
norted.
"… but I hope you'll understand that certain plans have to be made."
"Such as?"
"Where in the United States would you like to go?"
"Keesler," she said. "Keesler Air Force Base in Biloxi is closest to Jack's parents' home. In Pass Christian."
"Pass Chris-tee-ann"? That's the French pronunciation. And while I'm on that subject… what about her brother, who's supposed to be in France?
"Is there someone there, in Pass Christian, who we can contact? Your father?"
"My father lives in Metairie-New Orleans. And he has a heart condition. My father-in-law lives in Pass Christian. I really think he'd be the man to break this to my father. I was just talking about that, frankly, with Mrs. Silvio when you came in, Mr. Castillo. She's going to call Jack's father, or the ambassador is, just as soon as they can get to a phone. I hope they can get through to him before he sees it on CNN or Fox. And then I'll call him, of course, when they let me out of here."
"Have they told you when that's going to be?"
"They want to keep me overnight for observation," she said, then turned to the ambassador. "Juan, can't you do something about that? I want to be with the children."
"I understand," Silvio said. "But they really want to look for signs of whatever that drug might have done to you. If you'd like, we can bring the kids here to see you."
"No. I don't want them to see me like this. They're better off with Julia."
Julia, presumably, is Darby's wife.
"They're in school now?" Castillo asked.
"Their father has just been murdered," she snapped. "Of course they're not in school."
"Forgive me," Castillo said.
Then the other woman is Lowery's wife; Darby's wife- Julia, the old friend of the family-is with the kids.
"Is there anyone else, ma'am, that we should contact?"
"No. I'll notify everyone just as soon as I'm out of here."
That "no" came really quick. Wouldn't she want to tell her brother, even if he didn't get along with her husband?
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