"I didn't say I didn't know him; I said that was a question I didn't choose to answer."
"Are you going to tell me now?"
"Are you going to tell me about the interesting developments about the Shangri-La massacre?"
Ordonez took a long moment before he replied.
"Do the names Vasily Respin and Aleksandr Pevsner ring a bell with you, David?"
"It's one man," Yung said. "I'm not sure which is his real name, and there are other aliases. There's a dozen, maybe more, Interpol warrants out for him. For all sorts of things."
"He's in Argentina, using the name Pevsner," Ordonez said.
"How do you know that?"
"Alfredo Munz told me."
"Why hasn't he been arrested?"
Ordonez shrugged. "Obviously, it is not in the best interests of the Argentine government to arrest him."
"He's paid somebody off?"
Ordonez shrugged. "That could be. He has all kinds of money. Enough, for example, to own a Bell Ranger helicopter."
Jesus Christ! Is that where Castillo got the Ranger? From an international mafioso?
"It's not like fingerprints, of course, but the skids of helicopters make skid-marks in mud-like the mud near Estancia Shangri-La-that are identifiable. I mean, it's not too hard to determine what type of helicopter made the marks in the mud. The helicopter at Estancia Shangri-La was a Bell Ranger."
"You think it was Pevsner's?"
"I don't know. I do know there aren't very many of them around Buenos Aires. I do know that after being at Jorge Newbery airport, early on the night of the Shangri-La massacre, Pevsner's Bell Ranger took off, visual flight rules, for Pilar. It closed out its flight plan over Pilar. Since there is no airport in Pilar, there is no record of it landing there. Very early in the morning on the day of the massacre, Pevsner's helicopter returned to Jorge Newbery, again flying under visual flight rules from Pilar. And again, since it had not landed at an airport, there is no record of it having taken off from one. It stayed there until late in the day, when it again returned to Pilar under visual flight rules.
"There is enough time between Pevsner's Bell Ranger closing out its flight plan over Pilar the night of the massacre and its return to Jorge Newbery early the next morning for it to have been flown to Tacuarembo Province and back. By flying very low, it would not have appeared on radar either here or in Argentina."
"You think Pevsner was involved in the business at the estancia?"
"I don't know, David. But Pevsner is not one of those people I dismiss from suspicion because of his lily-white reputation. Now I will tell you what else I have learned, with the caveat that when I finish you will tell me what you know about any of this."
"If that was the offer of a deal, it wasn't accepted."
"That's an admission, you realize, that you know something."
"No, it isn't. I had no idea, for example, until just now that this Russian mafioso was in South America or that he owns a helicopter. I said 'No deal' because, after you tell me what else you know and ask me what I know and I tell you nothing, you can't say I'm breaking our deal."
Ordonez looked at Yung intensely for a moment but did not respond directly. Instead, he said, "You remember me telling you that, among other things we did together, we worked on the protection of foreign dignitaries, such as Fidel Castro?"
Yung nodded.
"And that one of the things that really puzzled me about the massacre was that two of the Ninjas were shot with a special rifle bullet issued only to your competitive marksmen and Special Forces soldiers?"
"I remember."
"An additional puzzling factor here was the reaction of Ambassador McGrory when Deputy Foreign Minister Alvarez very circuitously asked him if there was any possibility that your Special Forces were in any way involved. I was watching his face. His surprise was genuine, as was his anger at the question. If your Special Forces were involved, Ambassador McGrory didn't know about it. That leaves two possibilities-that they were not involved or that they were on a mission of such secrecy that the American ambassador was not told."
Christ, he's got us!
"Jose, there's a very strict rule that nothing surreptitious-especially using Special Forces-can take place in a country without the ambassador's knowledge and approval."
"Yes, I know," Ordonez said. "But let me go on. All of these questions were in my mind when I went to the English hospital during the autopsy procedures on Mr. Lorimer and the Ninjas. And then, looking at the Ninja who had been shot in the head, I had the strangest feeling that I had seen him before."
"Had you?"
"It took me thirty-six hours to remember when and where," Ordonez said. "And then I took out my photo album-and there it was. A photograph of Fidel Castro standing in front of the Belmont House Hotel with three familiar faces in the background. El Coronel Alfredo Munz, me, and Major Alejandro Vincenzo of the Cuban Direccion General de Inteligencia."
"Jesus H. Christ!" Yung blurted. "Are you sure?"
Ordonez nodded slowly. "We generally make a practice of getting fingerprints of people like that who visit our country. We have yours, for example. I checked the prints. Major Vincenzo of the Cuban DGI, who came here as Castro's security chief, was one of the Ninjas who died at Estancia Shangri-La of a Special Forces bullet in his brain."
"They were Cubans?"
"We could not match the prints of any of the others, but there is no question about Vincenzo." Ordonez stood up. "If I may, friend David, I will have another Famous Grouse while you decide what help you can offer me."
"What the hell was a Cuban doing at the estancia?" Yung blurted.
Ordonez laughed.
"You will forgive me if I say that your reaction is as transparent as was Ambassador McGrory's? You were genuinely surprised to hear that, weren't you, Senor Inscrutable?"
"Yeah, I was," Yung said.
"May I start asking questions?"
"I'll tell you what I can," Yung said.
He thought, Now I really wish I was Castillo. I'm in way over my head here.
"Let's start with the most important thing to me," Ordonez said from the bar. "Why are you protecting the Munz family? And from whom?"
"Munz is concerned for their safety."
"What concern of that is yours?"
"We owe him."
"Why?"
"I can't answer that."
"You will forgive me if I suspect it has something to do with his wound," Ordonez said. "Which poses more questions, including the original one: from whom?"
"We don't know. The people who murdered Masterson, probably."
"They would be the same people who sent the Ninjas to the estancia, do you think?"
"That sounds reasonable, but we don't know."
"And from the Russian mafioso, Pevsner?"
"Possibly, maybe even probably."
"Let me be honest with you, David. I am very relieved to find that Munz trusts you with the lives of his family. That means you can be counted among the good guys."
"I think we really are the good guys," Yung said.
"What are your plans to protect Senora Munz and the girls? Perhaps I can help."
"They're going to the States," Yung said. "Tomorrow."
"Alfredo will join them there?"
"No. He wouldn't go."
"If I didn't believe you were the good guys, I might suspect that his family were hostages to his good behavior."
"That's absolutely untrue," Yung snapped. "He's staying here to help us find out who these bastards are."
"Well, as step one, I will ensure that the Munz family is safe until they get on the plane with you and Lorimer's casket."
Oh, shit! And I have to tell him!
"They're not going with me," Yung said. "A private plane will come here sometime tomorrow. They'll go on that."
"A Learjet?"
He'll find out anyway.
"No. A Gulfstream."
"I thought Senor-or is it Major?-Castillo
had a Learjet."
"Lieutenant Colonel Castillo has many airplanes."
"And you work for Lieutenant Colonel Castillo, do you, David?"
Why deny that? It's self-evident.
"I do now."
"And my cousin Julio?"
Yung nodded. "As of yesterday."
"And who does Lieutenant Colonel Castillo work for? The CIA?"
"No. He doesn't work for the CIA."
"Then whom?"
"That's another question I can't answer."
"When you worked here as an FBI agent, were you really working for the CIA?"
"No."
"What was-what is-your interest in Senor Lorimer?"
"Money laundering."
"That's all?"
"I thought he was a Lebanese named Bertrand and I was trying to find out where he got all those American dollars."
"Nearly sixteen million of them," Ordonez said. "And did you find out?"
Yung nodded.
"Are you going to tell me?"
"It's money from that Iraqi oil-for-food scheme. Lorimer was involved in that."
"You know, I never even thought about that? That answers some questions, doesn't it? And poses at least as many more. I'll have to give this a good deal of thought."
"I'm sure you will."
"And do you know where that money is now?"
"Next question."
Ordonez smiled. "You did a very good job of concealing tracks at the banks when you came back down here, David, but not a perfect one. I have learned that the receipts-or whatever they're called-for the money in Lorimer's accounts here were negotiated through the Riggs Bank in Washington. That makes me think they were in Lorimer's safe at the estancia and somehow taken to Washington. I would have been prone to think Senor Pevsner had something to do with that. But if that were so, why did you try to conceal the tracks?"
"That was a rhetorical question, right? You didn't expect an answer?"
"Right."
"Boy Scout's honor, Jose, I have never knowingly done anything that would in any way help Aleksandr Pevsner. From everything I know about the sonofabitch, he deserves to be behind bars. Or dead. I don't know-can't prove-that he's after the Munzes, but I believe it."
"So do I. The question is why? Can you put me in touch with Alfredo?"
"When I get to the States-that'll be tomorrow-I'll get word to Munz that you want to talk to him. And that you helped us get his family to the States."
"I would appreciate that. That leaves only two things for me to do."
"And what are they?"
"I'll make sure that no one gets close to the Belmont House tonight who shouldn't be there. And then you and I will walk down there and say hello to my cousin Julio and you will tell him that you and I are agreed that we are the good guys."
"Okay. I've got to give him a charger for his cellular, anyway."
"And one more thing," Ordonez said. He wrote something in a small notebook, tore out the page and handed it to Yung.
"What's this?"
"The address of a good auto-body repairman. I told you I'd give it to you."
"Thank you," Yung said.
"And one last thing, David. I really wish you wouldn't get on the phone and tell Colonel Castillo about our conversation."
"I'm going to have to tell him, Jose."
"Oh, I know. But if you call him tonight, your phones are tapped-cellular and regular-and I would rather not have a record of our conversation floating around. We both said, and are doing things, that we really shouldn't be doing. Let's keep that between us."
After a moment, Yung nodded.
Ordonez went on: "You'll have a few minutes to speak with Colonel Castillo-or someone close to him-at the airport tomorrow. Maybe if he knows what I've told you, he will tell me something he knows that may help me sort all this out."
Yung didn't reply.
"Can Castillo get the Munzes into the United States if their passports do not have exit stamps from Uruguay?"
Castillo could get them into the States if they arrived without passports.
"I'm sure he can."
"Then we will have to get them on the Gulfstream tomorrow without them going through the normal immigration procedures. We have to presume that-I like your description, David -these bastards may have access to our immigration computers. If there is no record of the Munzes leaving the country, perhaps they will waste a little time looking for them here."
XII
[ONE] El Presidente de la Rua Suite The Four Seasons Hotel Cerrito 1433 Buenos Aires, Argentina 0815 9 August 2005 Colonel Jacob Torine, USAF, went into the master bedroom and gently shook the shoulder of Lieutenant Colonel C. G. Castillo, USA, who was asleep, lying spread-eagle in his underwear on the enormous bed.
When that didn't work, Torine grabbed Castillo's left foot, raised it three feet off the bed, then let it go.
That worked. Castillo sat up abruptly, his eyes wide-open at first, then glaring at Torine.
"I just ordered breakfast, Charley. It's quarter after eight," Torine said.
"Thanks," Castillo said, without much enthusiasm, fell back on the bed, and then, grunting with the effort, sat up again and swung his feet out of the bed.
He took fresh underwear from his bag and walked stiff-leggedly into the huge marble bath. He turned on the cold-water faucet in the glass-walled shower, took off his underwear, and stepped under the flowing water. He stood under the cold water for a full minute before, shivering with cold, deciding that he now was sufficiently awake and could adjust the temperature.
Five minutes later, shaved and in trousers and shirt, Castillo went into the sitting room. Two waiters were arranging plates topped with chrome domes on a table.
Castillo nodded at Torine and Fernando Lopez, then walked to the enormous windows overlooking the tracks of the Retiro Railroad Station, the docks beyond that, and the river Plate.
"Nice view," he thought aloud.
"I'm glad my wife doesn't know about this," Torine said. "She doesn't mind me freezing my ass on some snow-covered runway in the middle of Alaska, but this would make her jealous."
Castillo turned and smiled at him.
"I guess Yung called?" he said.
"Yeah. He said he was on his way to the Carrasco airport to pick up Artigas's car, then would take the Munzes to the Belmont House. They'll take turns guarding them. I didn't want to wake you."
"You were really wiped out, Gringo," Fernando Lopez said.
"Understatement of the day," Castillo said as he stretched his neck. He then added, "I've been thinking."
"That's always dangerous," Lopez said.
Castillo walked to the table, sat down, and lifted one of the chrome-domed plate covers. The plate held an enormous pile of scrambled eggs. He spooned some eggs onto his plate, then found ham steaks under another dome and put one of them next to his eggs, meanwhile thinking: What I really have been thinking about is the time I spent in that bedroom with Betty Schneider. I thought about her just before I passed out. And I thought of her this morning, just as soon as I stopped being pissed at Jake for that leg-dropping wake-up call.
But that's personal.
This is business.
"When we came in here last night, they called me Gossinger," Castillo said. "And I remembered that I rented this place as Gossinger of the Tages Zeitung and they're getting the bill. And that Otto Gorner sent the German embassy here a wire-maybe an e-mail, maybe he even called-asking that I be given every courtesy."
"So?"
"Hiding Billy Kocian is going to be as easy as hiding a giraffe on the White House lawn."
"True," Torine said. "The old guy is spectacular. I love his hat."
He mimed Kocian's up on one side and down on the other hat brim.
"You're going to move him in here," Lopez asked, "after all that business about renting the safe house right now?"
"No. But I'm going to keep this apartment and tell the hotel that Mr. Eric Kocian of the Tages Zeitung
newspapers will be staying here -when he is not staying in a Pilar country house that the newspaper has rented for him- and to continue to send the bills to the newspaper. And when I get out to the safe house and can get a secure line to the White House switchboard, I'm going to call Otto and tell him to call the German ambassador to tell him who Eric is and that he's here-and why-and to…"
"Why is he here?" Torine asked.
"He's working on three stories," Castillo said. "One, some character from Hamburg is going to try to raise the Graf Spee from its watery grave off Montevideo. Two, he's going to do a piece on the German sailors from the Graf Spee who stayed here. And, three, he's naturally interested in the story of the murdered American diplomat, which is of great interest in Germany."
"What are you trying to do, Gringo, make him a really visible target?" Lopez asked.
"Exactly. One so visible that SIDE will decide it's in the national interests of Argentina to see that nothing happens to him. The Argentine government doesn't want any more headlines about foreigners being murdered here. And a foreign journalist? If anything happened to Billy, it would be on front pages all over the world."
"You're devious, Colonel Castillo," Torine said.
"I like to think so," Castillo said. "Thank you, sir."
"They whacked the sergeant and almost whacked your girlfriend when they were riding around in an embassy car," Lopez said. "Not to mention Masterson."
"They weren't expecting trouble," Castillo said. "Billy will have at least Jack Davidson and Sandor Tor with him all the time and they know what they're doing. And there will be others, too."
"What's Eric Kocian going to think of this brainstorm of yours?" Lopez asked.
"I won't know that until I ask him," Castillo said. "So this is what's going to happen. Darby's going to pick me up here at nine. I'll get Billy Kocian settled in Mayerling and make the phone calls. You go to Jorge Newbery and get the plane ready."
"I think it would be better to have three flight plans," Torine said. "One from here to Carrasco, a second from Carrasco to Quito, and a third from Quito to San Antonio, rather than one with legs."
"Fine," Castillo said.
"It's only about thirty minutes from Jorge Newbery to Carrasco," Torine went on. "We won't have to take on fuel, but it would be better if we did. It's almost six hours to Quito from Montevideo."
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