Silvio turned to Castillo.
“You’re Mr. Castillo?” he asked.
“Yes, sir.”
Silvio knocked at the rear door of the ambulance, and then pulled it open and climbed in.
There in the van were two men and a woman, all wearing thin blue hospital coats, all of which carried nameplates with their names, followed by “M.D.”
Mrs. Elizabeth Masterson was sitting on a chair against the far interior wall of the roomy ambulance. There was a plastic oxygen mask over her nose and mouth, and a blood pressure device wrapped around one arm. The female doctor was taking her pulse.
Silvio went to Mrs. Masterson, dropped to his knees, and took her hand.
“Elizabeth,” he said softly in English, “I am so very sorry.”
She looked at him, visibly confused, and then looked away.
“She has apparently been drugged,” the female doctor said.
“What are you doing about it?” Silvio asked.
“There’s not much we can do until we know what drug was used. We suspect a couple, but can’t be sure until we get a blood sample to the laboratory.”
“Why hasn’t she been taken to the hospital?” Silvio asked, and then, without waiting for a response, said, “Please take her there now.”
He turned and looked at Lowery.
“Go with her, please, Mr. Lowery. Make sure she is all right.”
“Yes, sir,” Lowery said.
“Take as many people as you think will be necessary.”
“Yes, sir.”
As Silvio started to leave the ambulance, Munz shouted, in a parade-ground bellow, “Captain Jiminez!”
One of the men in civilian clothing in the knot of police officers came running over.
“Eight men, two cars,” Munz ordered. “One car to precede the ambulance, one to trail. There will be Americans. Make sure of Señora Masterson’s safety. Report when she is safely in the hospital. And do not allow the press anywhere near her or the medicos.”
“Sí, mi coronel.” Captain Jiminez turned and ran off, shouting orders as he ran. Lowery ran after him.
“Thank you, Colonel,” Silvio said to Munz. “Now, what do we know about what happened?”
“We were about to find out, Excellency, just before you arrived,” Munz said. “If you will come with me, Excellency?”
Munz led them to the policeman from the Naval Prefecture.
“You were the first officer on the scene?” Munz asked.
“Sí, mi coronel.”
That cop’s about to piss his pants. He’s terrified of Munz.
Ambassador Silvio saw this, too. He smiled at the policeman and put out his hand.
“Good morning,” he said, in what Castillo now recognized as a good porteño Spanish accent. “My name is Silvio. I’m the United States ambassador, and we’re trying to find out what happened here.”
“Sí, señor.”
“Well?” Munz demanded.
“Mi coronel, I was patrolling in Puerto Madero when I got the call to come here.”
“What did the call say?”
“Investigate a possible robbery murder,” the policeman said, and added, reluctantly, “and a crazy woman.”
“Do we know where that call came from?” Munz asked, looking over Castillo’s shoulder. Castillo turned and saw that the Navy commander who had spoken to Munz earlier had come up.
“The truck driver, mi coronel,” the commander said.
“Where is he? Get him over here.”
When two Naval Prefecture policemen started to hustle the truck driver, a burly, visibly nervous man in his late forties, over toward them, Munz signaled them to stop and walked over to them. The ambassador, Castillo, Darby, and the driver followed. The Navy officer started to, but was ordered with a wave of Munz’s hand to stay where he was. Then Munz dismissed the policemen with an impatient wave of his fingers.
“Would you please tell us what you know of this, señor?” Munz asked.
The man nodded, and then turned and gestured toward the street.
“I was coming down Edison,” the truck driver began, “toward Jorge Newbery, when I saw the woman. She was staggering in the street. I thought she was drunk.”
He stopped, having considered that he might have said something he should not have said.
I don’t think he knows who Munz is, beyond being someone of importance to the other police, but he’s afraid of him.
“And?” Munz prodded.
“I felt sorry for her and stopped,” the driver said, not too convincingly, and then added, “She was in the middle of the street, and I didn’t want to run over her.”
He waited for a response.
“And?” Munz prodded again.
“So I got out of my truck and she sort of dragged me in here,” the driver said. “And I saw the taxi, what was in it—they were both dead—and I got on my phone and called—”
There seemed to be more flashing red-and-blue lights, and now sirens. Castillo saw that a little convoy had been formed and was