Uruguayan customs officials, however, were waiting for the cars streaming off the ferry.
Artigas rolled down the window and extended his diplomat's carnet, a plastic card not unlike a driver's license.
The customs officer looked at it a moment, peered into the car, and said, "Welcome back to Uruguay, Senor Artigas."
"Thank you," Artigas said.
"Diplomaticos Norteamericanos," the customs officer called to uniformed officers a few feet away. They saluted as the BMW rolled past.
"Welcome to Uruguay, senora y senoritas," Yung said.
"Gracias," Senora Munz said, emotionally.
Artigas turned right on leaving the port gate and headed for Carrasco on the Rambla.
Yung took out his cellular and punched Castillo's autodial number.
After the first ring, Yung heard, "?Hola?"
"The pilgrims just stepped off Plymouth Rock," Yung announced.
"What?" a voice asked, in English.
"Who is this?" Yung demanded.
"Yung?" the voice said.
"Yes."
"Torine. What's up?"
"Where's the boss?"
"Crashed. He fell asleep right after dinner. Everything go all right or do I have to wake him?"
"As smooth as glass. We're on our way to the airport to pick up Artigas's car, then to the Belmont House. We'll take turns sitting on the nest."
"How's the battery in your cellular?"
"I'll make sure it's charged"-he corrected himself-"they're charged."
"We'll be in touch," Torine said and broke the connection. Artigas stopped the BMW outside the parking lot at the Carrasco airfield and got out. Yung stepped out of the passenger's door, walked around the BMW, and slid in behind the steering wheel.
When Artigas, now at the wheel of his Chrysler PT Cruiser, came out of the parking lot two minutes later, he waited until Yung had backed the BMW away from the parking lot, then followed him at a discreet distance into Carrasco. [FIVE] The Belmont House Hotel Avenida Rivera 7512 Carrasco, Montevideo, Uruguay 0225 9 August 2005 Yung's apartment on Avenida Bernardo Barran in Carrasco was two blocks away from the small, five-star luxury hotel and their route took them past it.
That naturally triggered in Yung's mind the memory of the sound of the cop's riot shotgun going off and of the double-aught buckshot pellets that riddled Yung's Chevy Blazer.
When I go to the States with Lorimer's casket, what happens to the Blazer?
I won't be coming back here, certainly not permanently. Which means I'll have to get rid of the Blazer.
How the hell can I sell it with a dozen holes in it?
How am I going to get it fixed from long distance?
Jesus, what's the matter with me? I'm supposed to be concentrating on the Munzes, not worrying about my damned Blazer!
At the Belmont House Hotel, after Yung drove the BMW into the circular drive in front of the hotel, Artigas pulled to the curb and shut off his headlights.
A doorman and a bellman immediately appeared at the BMW. Senora Munz and her daughters, all appearing very sleepy, got of the car and walked into the hotel.
Yung checked to see where Artigas was.
If the cops see him parked there, they'll be curious, but with the CD plates on the car they can't ask him what he's doing.
What they'll probably decide is that he's waiting for a pal who is inside the hotel and not yet ready to leave the arms of love.
Yung walked into the hotel as Senora Munz was registering. The desk clerk obviously knew her.
That's convenient. Their appearance this late after midnight will not raise questions.
"If there's nothing else I can do for you, ladies, I'll leave you and see you in the morning. You know how to reach me."
"Thank you very much," Senora Munz said. "You are very gracious."
Yung smiled at the girls again, then walked out of the hotel. He got in the BMW and drove to his apartment.
I don't have the clicker to open the goddamned garage door. I'll have to leave the car on the street.
He pulled to the curb and started to get out of the car, but changed his mind as he took the keys from the ignition. Instead, he took out his cellular.
Jake Torine answered on the second ring.
"They're in the nest. And Julio is sitting outside," Yung announced.
"Don't forget to make sure your phones work," Torine replied. "We don't want to have to send out a search party for you tomorrow…I mean, later today."
"I told you I'd do it," Yung said, some what snappishly, and broke the connection.
He immediately realized, Dammit! He's right. That's an important little detail, and the truth is, I didn't think about a dead cellular battery.
There're two chargers in the apartment, one that fits into a cigarette lighter. I'll get it and walk down the street and give it to Artigas. Then I'll charge mine.
He opened the door of the BMW some what awkwardly with his left hand, got out, then started to lock the car.
"Buenos noches, Senor Yung," a voice said behind him. "I guess it's really buenos dias, isn't it?"
Yung felt a chill.
Jesus, the hair on my neck actually curled. I thought that was just a figure of speech.
"You scared hell out of me, Ordonez!" Yung said.
"Sorry," Chief Inspector Jose Ordonez said. His smile revealed he was more amused than regretful.
Yung glared at him.
"You're not going to ask me what I'm doing walking the streets of Carrasco at this hour?" Ordonez said.
"I really don't give a damn," Yung said.
"We have to talk, Senor Yung."
"Some other time, perhaps. I've had a busy day and want to go to bed."
"I really think it's necessary," Ordonez insisted.
"Am I going to have to hide behind the shield of diplomatic immunity to get some sleep?"
"That's one of the reasons I think we really have to talk. If at all possible, I'd like to keep our little problem from getting involved with the often sticky business of diplomatic immunity."
Oh, shit! Now what?
"Let me rephrase my request," Ordonez said. "I would really like to talk to you. Unofficially, on my word. All you have to do is listen. You don't have to say anything, unless, of course, you wantto."
Yung looked at him but didn't reply.
"What have you got to lose, Senor Yung?" Ordonez pursued. "A few minutes of your time? And perhaps a small glass of whiskey?"
"Okay," Yung said. "Come on in my apartment. With the understanding that the next time I suggest you go home so I can get my sleep, you accept it."
"You are muy amiable, Senor Yung." "Charming apartment," Ordonez said as Yung snapped on the lights in his living room.
"Thank you. What kind of small glass of whiskey would you like?"
"Scotch, if that would be convenient," Ordonez said. "But before we get into that, may I help you with your bandage?"
Yung looked at his bandaged hand. Blood had soaked the gauze and the gauze was dirty.
What the hell? It looked all right the last time I looked at it.
I must have fucked it up crawling under the BMW on the ferry.
"If you'll forgive my saying so, it appears to need attention," Ordonez said.
"I've got some stuff in the bathroom," Yung said, and belatedly added, "Thank you." Ordonez skillfully and tenderly removed the bandage, then examined the cracked, crusted blood over the gouge.
"You were lucky," he said. "Another few millimeters and there would have been serious damage."
"I'll send a box of chocolates to your guy with the shotgun," Yung said.
Ordonez chuckled.
"I've already had a word with him. And if I may say so, his intentions were noble. He was trying to save your life."
Ordonez was now swabbing the wound with antiseptic and Yung was trying not to grimace at the burning sensation.
Yung said, "You don't happen to know a good body shop, do you? My Bla
zer looks like it was in a war."
Why the hell did I say that?
"Well, it was, wasn't it?" Ordonez said. "And, as a matter of fact, I do. I'll leave you the address and I'll also call him and tell him you're a friend of mine."
"Thank you." "That should do it," Ordonez said three minutes later as he let loose of Yung's freshly bandaged hand. "And can we now have the whiskey you have so kindly offered?"
"Thank you, Chief Inspector Ordonez."
"It was my pleasure to be of assistance. And please call me Jose."
Yung smiled and gestured for him to precede him out of the bathroom.
"What would you like?" Yung asked, indicating the bottles on his bar.
"The Famous Grouse, please."
When Yung handed him a glass and wordlessly asked if he would like ice, Ordonez nodded, said "Please," then went on: "I used to drink Johnnie Walker Black. But then the Johnnie Walker people took the distributorship away from a friend of mine-it had been in his family for four generations-and I stopped drinking Johnnie Walker and started drinking Famous Grouse, which my friend now distributes."
"How interesting," Yung said.
He handed the glass of Famous Grouse to Ordonez, then poured one for himself.
"We Latins-you must have been here long enough to know this-are like that," Ordonez said. "We reward our friends, punish our enemies, and hold grudges for a longtime."
"Is that so?" Yung said.
"Are the Chinese like that, Senor Yung? May I call you David?"
"We Chinese are inscrutable," Yung said.
"Like FBI agents?"
"Like some FBI agents. There are some FBI agents, I must admit, who talk too much. I don't happen to be one of them. I tell you that as a friend. And, yes, you may call me David."
Ordonez chuckled.
"Thank you," he said, then went on, "Speaking of friends, do you happen to know an Argentine by the name of Alfredo Munz?"
Oh, shit!
When it was obvious that Yung wasn't going to reply, Ordonez continued.
"Until recently, he was head of SIDE. You know what that is?"
"I know what SIDE is," Yung said.
"El Coronel Munz was recently retired," Ordonez said. "The word went around that he was retired because of his inability to quickly apprehend whoever it was who first kidnapped Mr. Masterson and then murdered her husband before her eyes."
Yung said nothing. He took a sip of his scotch.
"The Argentines, unfortunately, are like that," Ordonez said. "They always like to divert blame from themselves. What's the English phrase, 'Find a scapegoat'?"
"Something like that."
"The Argentine government can now say, 'Why should we be embarrassed that a U.S. diplomat's wife was kidnapped and the diplomat himself murdered on our soil? We have sent the man who should have prevented that from happening into disgraceful retirement for incompetence.'"
"That wasn't very nice of them, was it?" Yung said.
"No. But that's the way it is. And when the word got around that El Coronel Munz had shot himself while cleaning his pistol, many people thought that he had somehow missed while attempting to take his own life because of the shame his incompetence had brought down on his head."
"Shot himself cleaning his pistol, did he?"
"You're sure you don't know at least who I'm talking about?"
Yung didn't respond.
"How do I translate your silence and the inscrutable look on your face, David? That you do know Alfredo Munz-or at least who he is-or that you don't?"
"Try, that's one of the questions Yung doesn't have to answer unless he wants to," Yung said.
Ordonez made a thin smile.
"Well, David, I was not one of those who believed that Munz was either incompetent or had shot himself while attempting suicide or cleaning his pistol."
"You didn't?"
"Not for a second. You see, David, Alfredo Munz is a close friend of mine-one might even say a dear friend."
"Is that so?"
"We met because we were, so to speak, counterparts. He ran SIDE on his side of the river Plate and I ran -run- the Interior Police Division of the Uruguayan Policia Nacional on this side. Despite the innocuous name, my unit does for Uruguay what SIDE does for Argentina."
"I didn't know that, of course," Yung said.
"Of course you didn't," Ordonez said. "After all, you were just one of a dozen or so FBI agents in your embassy involved in nothing more than the investigating of money laundering, right?"
"If you say so."
"Well, shortly after Alfredo and I started to work together, we learned-I'm sure to our mutual surprise-that we were both honest cops. Unfortunately, there aren't that many of us in either Argentina or Uruguay."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"Well, over the years, as Alfredo and I worked together on projects of mutual interest-for example, dignitary protection…"
"'Dignitary protection'?"
"That involves the protection of our own officials, diplomats, and visiting dignitaries, such as heads of foreign states. Fidel Castro, for example. Did you know that when Fidel Castro visits Uruguay, he and the more important members of his entourage always stay at the Belmont House Hotel right down the street from here?"
"I think I heard that," Yung said.
"Well, for example, when Castro visited Argentina, where he was under Munz's protection, and then came here, where I was responsible for his protection, Alfredo and I naturally worked together."
"I can understand why that would happen."
"Well, when I heard that my friend Alfredo had had-how do I put this? -some difficulty involving a firearm, the first thing I wanted to do was help. I couldn't rush across the river to Buenos Aires, of course, because I was deeply involved in the investigation of the massacre at Estancia Shangri-La. And when I tried to telephone him, using a very private line to his very private line in his apartment, there was never an answer. There were several possible reasons for this, the most likely being that he saw, on caller identification, that I was calling and didn't think it wise-for his sake or mine-that we talk."
Ordonez raised his glass.
"May I impose on your hospitality for another of these, my friend David?" He smiled. "This glass seems to have a hole in it."
"Of course."
While Yung put ice then Famous Grouse into Ordonez's glass, he thought, I really should not have another of these. I'm out of my depth with Ordonez and I have no idea where this is leading-but then poured another two inches of scotch into his own glass.
"Here you go, Jose," Yung said, handing him the drink.
"Thank you. Now, where was I? Oh, yes. As I said, it was impossible for me-because of the massacre investigation-to personally go to Buenos Aires to see what I could do to help Alfredo, or even to get him on the phone, so I did the only thing I could think of to help: I put a watch on the immigration computers."
"Excuse me?"
"I instructed our immigration service to notify me personally and immediately should the Munz name appear. I already had issued such a watch for two U.S. diplomats, Julio Artigas and David W. Yung, Jr."
"How interesting."
"Aren't you at all curious why I am curious about the movements out of and into Uruguay of you and my cousin Julio?"
"I figure if you want me to know, you'll tell me."
"Actually, there have been two interesting developments in the Shangri-La massacre that I wanted to ask you both about," Ordonez said. "We know-or at least are reasonably sure-where the helicopter out there came from, and we have positively identified one of the men who died out there from a 7.62mm rifle bullet in his head."
Oh, shit! I don't think that's a bluff!
"You going to tell me about that?"
"In due time," Ordonez said. "Well, tonight, shortly after the parties for whom I'd issued a watch passed through immigration at the Buquebus terminal in Buenos Aires, immigration called me at my home to tell me that not only we
re the two American diplomats on the ferry, but so were Senora Munz and her two daughters."
Shit!
"And here I owe both you, David, and my cousin Julio an apology. I have to confess that I suspected an unpleasant connection between you two and the family of my dear friend Alfredo. I should have known better and I'm more than a little ashamed.
What the hell is this?
"So what I did was call my man on the Buquebus-as you can imagine, it's handy to have your men on the ferry. In civilian clothing, of course. We normally have two, one with a charming Labrador that has a fantastic nose."
He smiled, took a healthy swallow of scotch, then continued.
"Anyway, I called him, and told him to take the Munz family under their protection, and to be especially watchful of the two American diplomats.
"He called back in half an hour to report that all parties were on the first-class deck, sitting separated from each other. He also said that the Chinese American diplomat had smiled at one of the Munz girls as he watched and that rather than being frightened-or even offended-she smiled back.
"That, of course, confused me. As did the next call from the ferry, shortly before it docked. The Chinese American diplomat was on his back on the car deck, as if looking for drugs-or, less likely, an explosive device-hidden under the car. That's probably where you soiled your bandage, David."
Yung did not reply.
"The final call from the ferry," Ordonez went on, "reported that the Munz family had willingly gotten into the BMW bearing diplomatic plates with the two American diplomats and were about to drive off the ferry.
"You didn't see me in the port, but I saw you, and I saw how Senora Munz and the girls smiled at you in the Belmont House. So, here I am, David, looking for an explanation."
"Of what?"
"Who are you protecting the Munz family from? And why? And what are they doing here? And what's your connection with El Coronel Munz, whom you say you don't know."
Hunters pa-3 Page 42