feel like a kid caught with my hand in the cookie jar. What happens now?”
“I’ve assured them that not only have I informed you of our efforts to get to the bottom of this situation, but also that I told you it would be unnecessary to register with the Ministry of Information. There is no longer a problem.”
“Thank you.”
“And I have this for you, too.”
He handed him a small, plastic-covered card. It read “Corps Diplomatique” and had his photograph and Gossinger’s name on it.
“A diplomatic carnet, in case one of our ever-alert police would ask why you’re carrying a pistol.”
“A pistol?”
“Actually, it was my intention to loan you one, but I see under your suit coat that you’re already carrying one in the small of your back.”
“The ambassador lent it to me.”
“Karl—you don’t mind if I call you ‘Karl,’ do you?”
“Herr Oberst, you may call me anything you wish.”
“There are some very dangerous people here in Argentina, I’m afraid, and I’m not talking about our cottage kidnapping industry. I haven’t been able to come up with any connection between Herr Masterson and them—from what I have, he’s, in that charming North American phrase, ‘Mr. Clean’—but that doesn’t mean there isn’t one. And these people have proven that murder is just part of their game. I would be very sorry if they decided to eliminate you.”
“You don’t think this is a kidnapping, do you?”
“Do you?”
“Well, they abducted her, so that’s a kidnapping. But it smells.”
“Yes, it does. You have no ideas whatever?”
“None.”
“If you did, would you tell me?”
Castillo met his eyes.
“Yes, I would. Between us, what did you think when Mrs. Masterson was being . . . I guess the word is ‘interrogated’ by Darby and Lowery?”
“I would not describe her responses as fully forthcoming.”
“What do you think she’s hiding?”
“There may be more to it than this, but the first thing that came to my mind was that they threatened her— probably her children—if she revealed anything she had learned about them.”
“Why didn’t they kill her?”
“They want something from her. Maybe Masterson didn’t bring the ransom with him. And they are threatening to kill the children if she doesn’t get it to them. I just don’t know.”
“Tony Santini is an experienced Secret Service agent—”
“I know. Did he really injure himself falling off the President’s limousine?”
Castillo thought a moment before replying, “The Vice President’s limousine.”
“How embarrassing for him!”
“Anyway,” Charley said, ignoring the subject, “the ambassador’s going to introduce him as the Secret Service man assigned to protect her and the children, and he’s going to use that to see what he can get out of her.”
“And is he going to tell her of your appointment as the generalissimo in charge?”
“You heard about that, too, did you, Alfredo?”
“Like yourself, Karl, I’m sure, I like to keep my ear to the grindstone.”
“Nose to the grindstone, ear to the ground,” Castillo smilingly corrected him.
“Thank you,” Munz said.
“There’s a planeload of FBI agents on their way down here to assist in the investigation. And two Secret Service agents to assist me. One is a really bright female with a good deal of experience in intelligence. I’m going to put her on the protection detail, hoping she’ll be able to get to Mrs. Masterson. The other one is a very good, street-smart cop who worked under deep cover in really bad situations for years. I’m going to have him look at what the FBI comes up with, and I would be grateful if you would let him see what you’ve come up with.”
“Certainly, but there’s not much.”
“There’s also an Air Force transport on its way to transport Masterson’s body and his family home.”
“Are you going with them?”
Jesus, I never thought about that!
“Maybe. But if I do, I have the feeling that I’ll be coming back.”
Munz nodded, then put out his hand.
“I’m glad we had this chance to chat, Karl.”
“Thank you for everything, Alfredo.”
[SEVEN]
Mrs. Elizabeth Masterson was not in the intensive care room where she had first been placed, but Castillo had no trouble in finding the room to which she had been moved. There were four uniformed Policía Federal, under the command of a sergeant, and two men in civilian clothing—one of them Paul Sieno, the CIA agent— hovering around a door near the end of the corridor.
Sieno nodded at Castillo, who then knocked on the door. A moment later, Ambassador Silvio opened it a crack, and then all the way.
“Come in, Mr. Castillo,” he said, and as Castillo went through the door, the ambassador went on,