The Hostage Part 39

The American Club was on the eleventh floor of an office building across the street from the Colon Opera House. The first thing Castillo saw when they got off the elevator was a huge American flag which had been flown from a warship off Normandy on D-Day, 1944. It was framed and hung on the wall.

Castillo was a little surprised that Sergeant Roger Markham-who he insisted eat with them-did not deliver a little historical lecture on D-Day activities and World War II in general.

There was a good-looking oak bar with a very appealing display of various spirits.

"Me for one of those," Darby said, heading for the bar. "Possibly two. I have earned it."

So have I, Castillo thought. Castillo thought. But I better not. But I better not.

C. G. Castillo and Sergeant Markham were the only two teetotalers, and Castillo suspected that was because Markham was following his n.o.ble example.

The meeting went well.

Amba.s.sador Silvio solved the problem of whether Mrs. Masterson would be willing to leave for the United States immediately after the ceremony in the Catedral Metropolitana by calling her, suggesting that was what he thought to be the best idea, and getting her approval.

As they waited for the elevator Castillo had an unpleasant thought.

Everything is going very well. Too well. What the h.e.l.l am I missing? When does the other shoe drop?

[SEVEN].

The United States Emba.s.sy Avenida Colombia 4300 Palermo, Buenos Aires, Argentina 1705 24 July 2005 "My name is C. G. Castillo. I need Secretary Hall on a secure line, please."

"We've been expecting your call, Mr. Castillo. Hold one, please.

"Mr. Castillo is on a secure line, Madam Secretary.

"Mr. Castillo is on a secure line, Mr. Secretary.

"I have Secretary Cohen, Secretary Hall, and Mr. Castillo for you, Mr. President."

Oh, s.h.i.t!

"Good afternoon, Charley," the President said. "How are things going down there?"

"Good afternoon, Mr. President. Sir, I'm calling from Amba.s.sador Silvio's office. I thought I should tell you he can-"

"You're on a speakerphone, Charley?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good afternoon, Mr. Amba.s.sador," the President said. "Your boss and Charley's are in on this. You all right with that?"

"Yes, of course, Mr. President. Good afternoon, Madam Secretary, Mr. Secretary."

"Let's have it, Charley," the President said.

"Well, sir, to get to the bottom line, Mrs. Masterson and the children will be wheels-up probably no later than noon, local time, tomorrow."

"She's still okay with that medal business in the cathedral?"

"Yes, sir."

"Is she-are they-going to be safe, Charley?"

"Yes, sir. I believe they will be safe. The amba.s.sador and I just came from a meeting with the head of SIDE, and the Argentine government is taking every possible measure to ensure their safety."

"Our people-you-presumably are in on that?"

"Yes, sir."

"Is that right, Mr. Amba.s.sador?"

"Yes, sir. I agree with Mr. Castillo."

"And the investigation, how's that going?"

"Sir, we also met with Special Agent Holtzman, the agent in charge of the FBI team, and . . ."

"Okay, Charley, that seems to be about it," the President said. "If everything continues on track, I'll see you tomorrow night in Mississippi. Natalie and I will. You, too, Matt?"

"If you wish me to be there, yes, sir," Hall said.

That's the first time he's opened his mouth.

"I think it would be a good idea, Matt," the President said.

"Then I'll be there, sir."

"And you, Mr. Amba.s.sador, presumably we'll see you there, too?"

"Sir, I thought I would ask Secretary Cohen's guidance."

"About what?" the President asked, sounding impatient.

"Sir, Mr. Masterson was our chief of mission. If I came along, and my wife and I would personally very much like to come, direction of the mission would fall on the shoulders of Mr. Darby, our commercial attache . . ."

"Juan," Secretary of State Cohen said, "I know how you feel, but I think it would be best if you remained in Buenos Aires. We don't want to make it appear as if we're recalling you for consultation."

And that's the first time she's opened her mouth.

"Yes, ma'am," the amba.s.sador replied.

"Your call, Natalie," the President said. "Anything else from anybody?" There was a moment's silence, then the President said, "Thank you, Charley. Thank you, both."

[EIGHT].

"Schneider."

"Don Juan for Agent Wiener schnitzel."

"I don't think you're funny, Charley."

"Why do I suspect no one can overhear this conversation?"

"As a matter of fact, I'm in the restroom."

"You want me to call you back in a couple of minutes?"

"No. What's on your mind?"

"Roger and I just escaped from the emba.s.sy," Castillo said. "It's a circus. Anyway, we're on Avenida Libertador. Roger is going to drop me at the Kansas, go where you are, pick you up, and bring you to the Kansas."

"What's that all about?"

"I want you to see the place, for one thing; and I want to be with you and have a drink, for another; and I thought it would look better if your boyfriend didn't pick you up at work."

"Is that what you are, my boyfriend?"

"I was getting that impression, frankly."

"Okay. You're sure you don't want me to spend the night here? Roger could drive me to the hotel-"

"I'm sure I don't want you to spend the night there."

I want you to spend it with me, frolicking in the nude.

"Getting back to business," Betty said, "I may be able to get to her."

"How so?"

"She's really nice, and we talked some, and then she asked me if I would do her a personal favor, so I said sure, and then she asked me to find the best private security business in Mississippi-she thought the gambling places along the coast would probably have some good ones-or in New Orleans. She said she wanted the best she could get."

"I would, too, in her shoes. So what did you tell her?"

"That I would look into it."

"I'll get on the horn to Joel Isaacson and see what he can come up with."

"Thank you."

"I'll see you in just a little while, baby. We can talk about it."

"How soon will Roger be here?"

"No more than twenty minutes."

"Okay, I'll be ready."

[NINE].

Restaurant Kansas Avenida Libertador San Isidro Buenos Aires Province, Argentina 1810 24 July 2005 Charley's gla.s.s of Senetin cabernet sauvignon was just about empty and he was getting just a little concerned- Jesus, Betty should have been here by now-when his cellular buzzed.

"Castillo."

"Wo bist du, Karl?"

Munz, and using the intimate form of address, as if we're pals.

"Between us, man-to-man, I'm sitting in the bar of the Kansas, waiting for my lady love."

"At the bar? You're sitting at the bar?"

"Yes, I am. And no, I don't want any more comp-"

"Listen to me, Karl, carefully. This instant, get away from the bar and into a booth. Keep your head down."

He's serious. What the h.e.l.l is going on? Charley thought, then said, Charley thought, then said, "Was ist los?" "Was ist los?"

"Do what I tell you, for G.o.d's sake! I'm trying to keep you alive! I'll have cars there in a couple of minutes."

The line went dead.

s.h.i.t!

Castillo got off the bar stool, signaled to the bartender that he was moving to a banquette, and did so.

As surrept.i.tiously as he could, he took the Beretta from the small of his back and worked the action. He didn't think anyone saw what he did.

A minute or so later, he heard the wail of a siren, and then realized it was sirens, plural.

A minute after that, there was the screech of brakes outside, and first two members of the Gendarmeria National burst into the restaurant, their hands on Uzis. And on their heels came two men in civilian clothing, also carrying Uzis.

Smart. If they'd come in first, instead of the uniforms, after Munz's warning, I might have decided to shoot first and sort it out later.

One of the men he was sure were SIDE agents half trotted into the bar, saw him, and walked quickly to the table.

"If you'll come with us, please, Mr. Castillo?"

"What the h.e.l.l is going on?"

"If you'll come with us, please, Mr. Castillo?" he repeated. "Colonel Munz will explain everything when we get there."

It was a short ride, actually. The narrow streets and the high speed made it seem longer.

He saw first the flashing lights of police cars, and then the ambulances, and then the emba.s.sy car.

The emba.s.sy car-the windows looked as if someone had attacked them with a baseball bat-Jesus Christ, somebody shot the s.h.i.t out of the car!-was backed into a sidewalk cafe at the traffic circle at the southeast corner of the San Isidro Jockey Club property. Tables and chairs had been scattered, and there were people sitting in chairs and lying on the ground who had either been run over or shot.