you speak with your boss, and when you’re finished, we can compare notes, so to speak.”
“Sir, I have the uncomfortable feeling that I’ve done something to displease you.”
“I’m displeased, frankly, but it’s nothing you’ve done, Mr. Castillo,” Silvio said. “In a manner of speaking, I would say that you and I are leaves being blown about by the winds of a storm.”
Charley couldn’t think of anything to say.
“Why don’t you speak with Secretary Hall? And then come see me?” Silvio said.
“Yes, sir.”
“Hall.”
“Charley, sir.”
“Let me get right to it,” Secretary Hall said. “By direction of the President, Major Castillo, you are directed and empowered (a) to take whatever action you deem necessary to protect the family of the late J. Winslow Masterson while they are in Argentina, and (b) to ensure their safe return—”
“Jesus Christ!”
“Let me finish, Charley. By direction of the President, I have written all this down.”
“Sorry, sir.”
“And (b) to ensure their safe return to the United States; and you are (c) directed and empowered to assume responsibility for the investigation of the kidnapping of Mrs. Elizabeth Masterson and the murder of Mr. Masterson.” He paused. “You understand me so far?”
“Yes, sir.”
“The U.S. ambassador in Buenos Aires has been advised of this Presidential Directive and directed to provide you with whatever you feel you need to accomplish your duties. The directors of the CIA and the FBI have similarly been notified of this directive and directed to furnish you with whatever support you feel you may need to carry out your duties.”
“My God!”
“I told you he went ballistic. It began with him banging his fist on the desk and declaring, ‘The assassination of a U.S. embassy official will not stand,’ and got more heated from there. I don’t think I’ve seen him so angry since we were under fire in ’Nam.”
“Sir, you know I’m not qualified to do anything like this.”
“The President apparently feels you are.”
“From what I’ve seen, everybody from the ambassador on down has done everything possible . . . and is still doing everything possible.”
“Apparently, the President doesn’t think so. This is not open to debate, Charley. That’s another quote.”
“Yes, sir.”
“To assist you in the accomplishment of your duties, the DCI has notified the CIA station chief that he is to place himself under your orders, and the director of the FBI has been ordered to send a team of FBI experts down there to assist you in your investigation, and the commander in chief CentCom has been ordered to dispatch an aircraft, together with adequate security personnel, to return the remains of Mr. Masterson, and his family, to the United States. I understand from General Naylor that that aircraft will be wheels-up within the hour—which means it’s probably already in the air— and the senior officer aboard has been placed under your orders.”
“Sir—”
“What part of ‘this is not open to debate’ did you miss, Charley?”
“I understand, sir.”
“The only thing I need to hear from you—in addition to ‘timely reports of any and all developments,’ of course—is what assistance you think you need.”
Castillo exhaled audibly.
“How are the FBI experts going to come down here? On the Air Force transport?”
“They have their own plane.”
“Is there any chance you could send Jack Britton and Betty Schneider down here on either airplane?”
“Odd that you should ask, Charley. Just after the fireworks started, Joel told me that since he thought they were both spinning their wheels in the training academy, he had asked the superintendent of the school if he could get them out early to come here and take over your reading of the daily intel reports. I don’t suppose you knew anything about this?”
“No, sir, I did not.”
“The objections the superintendent had were twofold. It would set a bad precedent, and he had planned to ask for both to serve as instructors.”
“Sir, I really—”
“By now both have been sworn in, issued credentials, and are probably already on their way here, if they haven’t landed already. Joel can be very persuasive, if you hadn’t noticed.”
“I’ve noticed, sir.”
“Why do you want them down there?”
“Because they’re both cops, and I’m not, and Betty’s a woman, and I’m not, and Jack is black, and I’m not.”
“‘Welcome to the Secret Service. Don’t unpack; go back to the airport, where an FBI plane is waiting for you. Castillo will explain everything when you get to Argentina.’”
“Can you do that, sir?”
“The truth is, Charley, that I can’t not do it. I don’t want to explain to the President why I didn’t give you something you