The shooters pa-4

by W. E. B Griffin

  "It also explains why they were going to try-probably still are trying-to whack you. You were liable to stumble across something they didn't want you to hear or pass to Langley. So you get whacked, and they, of course, would have no idea who did you…"

  "Isn't whacking me a little extreme?"

  "So was Weiss coming to me at Langley, and then to you, with that bullshit story. Desperate people do desperate things, Ace. These guys are not only liable to lose their pensions, they're liable to get sent to the slam."

  "Okay. Point taken. But doesn't that suggest they'll try to whack you, too? And Two-Gun?"

  "And anybody else they consider a threat," Delchamps agreed. "And we must bear in mind they probably have access to the Ninjas."

  "And anybody else would include Ambassador Lorimer and his wife. Shit!"

  "Yeah," Delchamps agreed. "Including Ambassador Lorimer and his wife. Who will arrive in Montevideo shortly after we do."

  Castillo exhaled audibly.

  "And with us whacked and pushing up daisies," Delchamps went on, "nobody even hears about the bullshit seize-the-cruise-ships scenario they handed us, because we're the only ones they handed that line to."

  "Except Dick Miller," Castillo said. "He eavesdropped on that conversation. And now he's coming down here…where they can whack him, too."

  "They don't know he heard it," Delchamps said.

  "He's close to me, so they whack him just to be sure. And blame that on the drug guys, too."

  "Yeah," Delchamps agreed after a moment.

  "So what do we do?" Castillo asked.

  "Well, we can go to Langley and tell the DCI or Lammelle. You can go to the DCI or Lammelle without going through Montvale. And an investigation will be started-"

  "Which they will hear of," Castillo interrupted, "and so long, Special Agent Timmons."

  "Or we can get Timmons back and then go to the DCI…"

  "Who may or may not believe us," Castillo said. "More egg on their face."

  "Or," Yung put in, "we can try to find out where their money is. I don't think they'd have it in a Stateside bank. Or in Paraguay or Argentina. The Caymans, maybe. Or maybe in Montevideo. I ran across a number of accounts with interesting amounts in them that I couldn't tie to anybody."

  "That possible, Two-Gun? That you could tie them to these bastards?" Castillo asked.

  "Yeah. With some help. From Doherty, for example. It would take some time, but yeah, Charley. Now that we know what we're looking for."

  "Say something nice about the FBI, Ace," Delchamps said.

  "Hallelujah, brother!" Castillo said, waving both hands above his head. "I have seen the light! I am now second to no one in my admiration of that splendid law enforcement organization. Just hearing the acronym 'FBI' sends shivers of admiration up and down my spine."

  "Actually, it's full of assholes," Yung said. "Inspector Doherty and myself being the exceptions that prove the rule. There may be one or two more."

  There were chuckles.

  "Sir, me too," Bradley said.

  "You too, what, Lester?" Castillo asked.

  "I heard what Mr. Weiss told you and Mr. Delchamps about the seize-the-ships op."

  "How did you manage that, Corporal Bradley? You were not supposed to be listening."

  "I was listening to hear what you were going to say about me going back to the Corps."

  "Well, the DCI and Lammelle might have trouble believing you and me, Ace, but all they would have to do is look at the pride of the Marine Corps' honest face and know he is incapable of not telling the truth," Delchamps said.

  "I can probably lie as well as any of you," Bradley said, indignantly.

  "And probably a lot better than me, Lester," Castillo said. "I say that in all modesty."

  "So what do we do now?" Yung asked.

  "May I suggest we think that over carefully before charging off in all directions?" Delchamps said. "Wind up the rubber bands, Ace, and get this show on the road."

  [TWO] Forty-five minutes later, as the altimeter slowly unwound past 5,000 feet, what had been the dull glow of the lights of Montevideo suddenly became the defined lights of the apartment houses along the Rambla and the headlights of cars driving along it.

  "There it is, Lester!" Castillo cried in mock excitement. "Montevideo! Just where it's supposed to be. Will miracles never cease?"

  "So the data on the GPS indicates, sir," Bradley said, very seriously, pointing to the screen of the laptop.

  Castillo looked. The representation of an automobile was now moving over the River Plate parallel to the Rambla.

  What the hell am I going to do with you, Lester?

  I can't send you back to the Marine Corps.

  Not only do you know too much, but after everything you've been through, you're not going to be happy as a corporal pushing keys on a computer.

  "And now if you will excuse me, Lester, I will talk to the nice man in the tower, after which I will see if I can get this aged bird on the ground in one piece."

  "Yes, sir."

  Castillo reached for the microphone.

  "Carrasco approach control, Aero Commander Four Three…"

  Five minutes later, as they turned off the Carrasco runway, Bradley said, "There's Chief Inspector Ordonez, sir," and pointed.

  Castillo looked.

  Ordonez was leaning against the nose of a helicopter sitting on the tarmac before the civil aviation terminal.

  I wonder what he wants?

  That's one of the old and battered police Hueys I am about to replace for him.

  But that's an Aerospatiale Dauphin parked next to it.

  I thought he said there was only one of those, and that it belonged to the president.

  What the hell is going on?

  And how the hell did he know we were going to be here?

  Ordonez was standing outside the Aero Commander when Castillo opened the cabin door.

  "There has been a development, Colonel," he said without any preliminaries.

  "And how are you, Chief Inspector Ordonez?" Castillo said.

  Ordonez ignored the greeting.

  "Would you be surprised to hear that your secretary of State has evinced an interest in the welfare of Ambassador Lorimer and his wife?"

  "No. I wouldn't."

  "I thought so."

  "'I thought so' what?"

  "That you were behind what has happened. What's it all about? I don't like being pressured."

  "Would you be surprised to hear I have no idea what you're talking about?"

  Max exited the airplane and made for the nose gear. Delchamps, Yung, and Bradley got out and looked at Ordonez.

  "I'd heard you'd left the estancia," Ordonez said to Yung. "By car, in the middle of the night, and had gone to Argentina."

  Which means he has people watching Shangri-La.

  Why not?

  Is that what's got him pissed off?

  "I wasn't aware he needed your permission to do anything," Castillo said.

  "It was not in connection with your secretary of State? Is that what you're saying?"

  "No, it was not."

  "Then what?"

  "In my experience, Ordonez," Castillo said, "when someone in your frame of mind-to use the Norteamericano phrase, 'highly pissed off'-asks a question, he usually thinks he has the answer and is not interested in yours, even if yours happens to be the truth. Would I be wasting my breath, in other words?"

  "I suggest you try answering and we'll find out," Ordonez said.

  Okay, bluff called.

  When in doubt, tell the truth.

  "Okay," Castillo said. "We have reason to believe-Yung found out-that the CIA station chief in Asuncion is dirty. Ninety percent certainty. He went to Argentina to tell Delchamps and me, if he could find me."

  Ordonez looked at him very closely.

  Somehow, I don't think that's what you expected to hear, is it, Jose?

  "Wrong answer, Jose?" Castillo said, smiling at him.

  "N
ot what I expected," Ordonez said. "Is that true, David?"

  Yung nodded.

  "Then I apologize," Ordonez said. "I had decided that you were entirely capable of doing something like that, and probably had. But I couldn't figure out why."

  "Done something like what?"

  "At eleven o'clock this morning, I was summoned-together with the minister of the interior-to the Foreign Ministry. The President was there. They had just been on a conference call with our ambassador to Washington. He reported that your secretary of State had requested a, quote, personal service, unquote, from him, and requested that he receive her at his earliest convenience. Half an hour later, she was at our embassy. She told him that she was very deeply concerned about the welfare of Ambassador Lorimer and his wife, who-against her advice and wishes-were already on their way to Estancia Shangri-La. She said the ambassador has a serious heart condition, which had been almost certainly exacerbated by the loss first of his son and then of his home in New Orleans during Hurricane Katrina.

  "She asked, as a personal request, not as the secretary of State, that we do whatever we could for Ambassador Lorimer and his wife." He paused. "The President thought that was amusing."

  "Amusing?"

  "He said the lady may have gone to see the ambassador as a private citizen, but that inasmuch as she is the secretary of State, your American eagle was sitting on her shoulder."

  "I'll tell you what I know, Jose," Castillo said. "She likes Ambassador Lorimer. I don't even know how she knows him, but she likes him. She doesn't want him down here, she told him that personally, and she sent me to Mississippi-where he and his wife were staying with Masterson's widow and her father-to talk him out of coming. I couldn't. My only connection with this was to send my airplane, the Gulfstream, to bring them here. That would at least spare them the hassle of going through airports.

  "So, what I'm saying is that your ambassador got what he saw, a very nice lady worried about a nice old man. She had no other agenda."

  "And what are you going to tell this nice old man about your plans for Estancia Shangri-La? Have you considered that?"

  "He knows," Castillo said.

  "He knows?" Ordonez asked, incredulously.

  "That was my hole card in trying to talk him out of coming. I played it. And it didn't work."

  "Well, let me tell you how this very nice lady's concern for a nice old man is going to complicate things for you, Castillo. The President-not my chief, the interior minister, and not the foreign minister, but my president-pointed a finger at me and told me I was now responsible for the comfort and safety of Ambassador Lorimer and his wife as long as they are in Uruguay. If I don't believe I can adequately protect them with any of our police agencies, it can be arranged for a company of our infantry to conduct routine maneuvers near Estancia Shangri-La for as long as necessary.

  "To spare the ambassador and his wife the long ride by car from here to the estancia-and to preclude any chance of a mishap on the road-I am to suggest to them that they accept the President's offer of his personal helicopter"-he pointed at the Aerospatiale Dauphin-"to transport them to the estancia.

  "By the time the helicopter would have reached Shangri-La-this was the interior minister's 'suggestion'-I would have ensured that the estancia had been visited by appropriate police officials under my command to make sure there were no security problems."

  He paused.

  Castillo thought, He's actually out of breath!

  "You sound as if there's some reason you can't do that," Castillo said.

  "Can't do what?"

  "Take the Lorimers to the estancia in the President's helicopter."

  "How are you going to take them there in the dark?" Ordonez said, gesturing.

  "Speaking hypothetically, of course, I think that would pose no problem. What you do is fly there, and when people on the estancia, who are expecting you, hear you overhead, they turn on the headlights of their cars, which have been positioned to light the field near the house. And then you land."

  "How are you going to find Shangri-La?"

  "GPS."

  "The Aerospatiale doesn't have it. I asked."

  "I do," Castillo said. "Lester, show the chief inspector the laptop."

  "You would trust this to get you there?" Ordonez asked several minutes later, when Bradley had finished his demonstration. "Is it safe?"

  "Absolutely and absolutely," Castillo said, "and what small risk it might involve is far less, I submit, than the alternatives, which are either to drive the Lorimers and everybody else all the way up there, or-even worse-to put them in a hotel overnight, which carries with it the risk that the secretary of state, not having heard from me that the Lorimers are safely at the estancia, might telephone Ambassador McGrory and enlist him in her cause, whereupon he can be counted upon to start making a lot of noise we don't need."

  "I was worried about that," Ordonez said. "If perhaps she hasn't already called the ambassador. If she had, I think we'd know."

  "I think so. Let's keep him out of this, if possible."

  Ordonez nodded, then said, "We'd have to make two trips, right? We can't get everybody in the Aerospatiale."

  "Is the pilot of the Aerospatiale any good?"

  "Of course they're good. They're the presidential pilots."

  "Okay. Then I go in the Huey and they follow me in their Aerospatiale."

  "You mean with my pilots, of course."

  "It would be better if I went as copilot."

  "Can you fly a Huey?"

  "No, but I'm a quick learner." When that got the dubious look that Castillo anticipated, he added, his tone bordering on annoyance, "Yeah, I can fly one, Jose."

  Fifteen minutes later, as Castillo was talking to the Uruguayan pilots beside the Aerospatiale, he heard Miller's voice on the Aerospatiale's radio.

  "Carrasco approach control, Gulfstream Three Seven Nine."

  Castillo walked toward the runway to watch the Gulfstream land. Bradley walked up to him.

  "I'm sure that's our airplane, sir," Bradley said, pointing.

  Castillo looked at Bradley, then at the Gulfstream touching down.

  "Our airplane," huh, Lester?

  Another reason I can't send you back to the Marine Corps.

  You not only consider yourself a member of this ragtag outfit of ours, but you have earned the right to think just that.

  Three minutes later, the Gulfstream rolled to a stop on the tarmac in front of the civil aviation terminal and next to the helicopters.

  Miller was the first to come down the stair door. When he saw Castillo, he tried-and failed-to make it appear he was able to reach the tarmac without difficulty.

  Castillo walked to meet Miller.

  "Who told you that you could fly that down here?" Castillo greeted him.

  "I got tired of riding a desk, Charley," Miller replied, unrepentant.

  "And if the Air Force couldn't operate the rudder pedals-for any number of reasons that come quickly to mind-then what?"

  "If I had had to push on the pedals, I would have pushed on the pedals, and you know it."

  Next off the airplane was a burly man whose loose raincoat only partially concealed the Uzi he held against his leg.

  Christ, if Ordonez sees the Uzi, will he make waves?

  The burly man recognized Castillo-who did not recognize him-and saluted. Sort of. He touched two fingers of his left hand to his left temple. Castillo returned the salute with the same subtle gesture. Then the burly man, satisfied there was no threat on the tarmac, turned to the stair door. When Ambassador Lorimer started down the stairs, the burly man started to help him.

  Lorimer curtly waved him away.

  "Ah," Lorimer said. "Colonel Castillo. How nice of you to meet me. Entirely unnecessary, of course."

  "How was the flight, Mr. Ambassador?"

  "It made me feel like a rock-and-roll star," Lorimer said. "Where's your dog?" He looked around and finally located Max. Edgar Delchamps had him at the end of a t
ightly held leash.

  "Ah, there you are, Max!" the ambassador said, put his fingers to his lips, and whistled shrilly.

  Max towed Delchamps to the ambassador without apparent effort. The ambassador squatted and scratched Max's ears.

  "Mr. Ambassador, there's a couple of small problems," Castillo said. "Would you and Mrs. Lorimer feel up to a helicopter flight of about an hour and a half, perhaps a little less?"

  "To the estancia, you mean?"

  "Yes, sir. Sir, the President of Uruguay welcomes you-this is Mr. Jose Ordonez of the Interior Department…"

  "On behalf of the President of the republic, Mr. Ambassador, welcome to Uruguay. The President hopes you will be willing to use his helicopter for the final leg of your journey."

  "That's very kind of him," Lorimer said. "May I ask a personal question?"

  "Yes, sir, of course."

  "Do all officials of your interior department go about with a Glock on their hips?"

  Castillo laughed. Ordonez glowered at him.

  "Try not to let my wife see it, please," Lorimer said. "And-partially because I think Colonel Castillo thinks this is necessary-I accept the kind offer of the President. There will be time when we get to the estancia for you to explain the nature of the 'small problems' Colonel Castillo has mentioned."

  "Right this way, Mr. Ambassador," Ordonez said, "if you please."

  "Before we do that, I'm sure my wife will wish to powder her nose, as the expression goes, and I will need a little sustenance."

  "You're hungry, Mr. Ambassador?" Ordonez asked.

  "Thirsty, actually," Lorimer said. "I've been told, Senor Ordonez, that Uruguay's male population consumes more scotch whiskey per capita than any other such population. Is that true?"

  "I believe it is, Mr. Ambassador," Ordonez said.

  "Then it wouldn't be too much trouble for you, would it, to come up with a little taste"-he held his thumb and index fingers about as widely separated as the joints would allow-"of, say, some of Macallan's finest? While my wife is powdering her nose, of course."

  "I think that can be arranged, Mr. Ambassador," Ordonez said, smiling appreciatively.

  "You know, Senor Ordonez, that according to Saint Timothy, our Lord said, 'Take a little wine for thy stomach's sake and thine other infirmities.'"