The Hostage Part 68

"When he was about nine or ten," Otto said, "Karl used to go to the stables, collect the cats-five, six, more-and load them on the elevator. His grandfather, who wouldn't let Karlchen use the elevator, and who hated cats, would summon the elevator, and when the door opened they'd all rush out into his bedroom. You could hear the Old Man in Fulda."

"He was a wicked little boy," Frau Gertrud said, smiling fondly. "Who looked like an angel."

"Is that a 'what the h.e.l.l is this?' look on your face, Jake?" Castillo asked Torine, and then went on without waiting for an answer. "I was born in this house. I lived here until I was twelve." Castillo saw the look on Kranz's face, and went on: "Long story, Seymour. I'll brief you later. Let's go up to the dining room and have a beer. In a manner of speaking, I make it myself."

"If Helena offers champagne, Karl," Goerner said firmly, "you will drink it."

"Jawohl," Castillo said, smiling. He clicked his heels, and waved everybody onto the elevator. It was a tight fit, but they all managed to get on. Castillo said, smiling. He clicked his heels, and waved everybody onto the elevator. It was a tight fit, but they all managed to get on.

The dining room was an enormous room on the third floor. One wall was covered with a huge, heavy curtain. Castillo walked to it, found a switch, and tripped it. The curtains opened, revealing floor-to-ceiling plate-gla.s.s windows offering a vista of gently rolling farmlands.

"Nice view," Torine said.

"Come here," Castillo said, "and Professor Castillo will offer a lecture on fairly recent military history."

Another maid in crisp white cap and ap.r.o.n appeared with a tray holding champagne stems. Castillo, Torine, and Kranz were taking gla.s.ses from the tray when Helena appeared.

"Ah, our hostess," Castillo said. "You'll have to forgive my bad manners, Helena. This is Colonel Jacob Torine of the U.S. Air Force, and Mr. Kranz of AFC Electronics of Las Vegas, Nevada, who is going to demonstrate the satellite telephone I'm going to recommend to Otto that he buy for the Tages Zeitung Tages Zeitung's correspondents. Gentlemen, our hostess, Frau Helena Goerner."

Helena had her temper under control and was charming.

"You have a lovely home, Frau Goerner," Torine said. "The view is spectacular."

"Yes, it is, isn't it?"

"I was about to deliver a little lecture about the land, Helena. May I go on?"

"Of course," she said, with a hint of a smile and a visible lack of enthusiasm.

"If you will look halfway across that glorious field of corn," Castillo said, pointing, "you will see a strip perhaps seventy-five meters wide where the growth isn't nearly as luxurious as the rest."

"Yeah," Torine said, curiously, having spotted what Castillo had pointed out.

"At one time, as difficult as it might be to believe in this time of peace and love for our fellow man, that strip was sewn with mines, about half of them Bouncing Bet-ties. They were placed there by the East German authorities-"

"That was the East German-West German border?" Torine interrupted.

"Yes, it was. May I continue?"

"Of course. Excuse me."

"The mines were placed there by the East Germans to keep the West Germans from rushing over there to take advantage of the manifold benefits of communism," Castillo went on.

"Karlchen, be careful!" Frau Gertrud ordered.

"And just this side of the still-polluted soil there used to be a road on which members of the U.S. Army used to patrol. . . . This is really marvelous champagne, Helena! Might I have another?"

"Yes, of course," Helena said, and snapped her fingers impatiently at the maid, who hurried up with her tray.

Castillo took an appreciative swallow and went on: "As I was saying, there was a road on which valiant Americans of the Eleventh and Fourteenth Armored Cavalry Regiments patrolled to keep the West Germans from escaping into East Germany.

"One of those heroic young Americans was someone you both know. Second Lieutenant Allan Naylor came here just about straight from West Point, after pausing only long enough to take a bride and the basic officer's course at Fort Knox-"

"Naylor was here?" Torine asked. "Fascinating."

"As a second john, and later as a major," Castillo confirmed. "And he learned, of course, the legend of the Haus im Wald Haus im Wald."

"Karl!" Goerner warned. Castillo ignored him.

"Would you like to hear the legend?" Castillo asked innocently.

Torine was silent.

"I would," Kranz said.

"Well, the legend was that in this house, which was known to the stalwart troopers of the Eleventh and Fourteenth as 'the Castle,' there lived a blond fair maiden princess who was ferociously guarded by her father, the king, also known as 'the Old Man.' He didn't keep the fair maiden in chains or anything like that, but he did do his best to keep her away from the Americans, who, as any Frenchman and many Germans will happily tell you, are bent on destroying culture around the world."

"Don't you think that's enough?" Goerner asked.

"I'm almost finished, Otto," Castillo said.

"I don't think you're being funny anymore, Karl," Otto said.

"Then don't laugh," Castillo said. "Well, one day, inevitably, I suppose, the inevitable happened. An American knight in shining armor rode up. Actually he was flying in the left seat of a Dog Model Huey. He set it down right there, on the cobblestones next to the stable."

He pointed.

"He had several things going for him. He was an Army aviator, for one thing, and everybody knows they possess a certain pizzazz. Most important, he was a Texican.As Fernando will tell you, handsome young Texicans send out vibes that women simply cannot resist. And such was the case here.

"He looked up at the mansion and saw the beautiful princess. She saw him. Their eyes locked. There was the sound of violins. The earth shook. Fireworks filled the sky. A choir of angels sang Ich liebe dich Ich liebe dich and other such tunes. And about nine months later they had a beautiful boy child who stands here before you." and other such tunes. And about nine months later they had a beautiful boy child who stands here before you."

"Oh, Karlchen!" Frau Gertrud said, emotionally.

"Your father was an Army aviator?" Kranz asked. "Where is he now?"

"He didn't make it back from Vietnam," Castillo said, evenly.

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me, too," Castillo said. "Lecture over. I hope you took notes, as there will be a written exam."

"Why don't we sit down?" Helena said.

"Is that a true story, Onkel Onkel Karl?" a very young voice inquired. Karl?" a very young voice inquired.

It showed on Helena Goerner's face that she had not been aware her children had been standing in the door and really didn't like it that they had.

"Ah, my favorite G.o.dchildren," Castillo said. "Yeah, Willi, that's a true story."

Castillo walked to the door and embraced, one at a time, two boys, one ten and the other twelve.

The twelve-year-old asked, "What's Vietnam?"

"A terrible place a long way from here," Castillo said. "Changing the subject, Seymour, what time is it in Washington?"

"About half past six," Kranz replied.

"And how long is it going to take you to set up?"

"That depends on where you want it."

"How about next to the stable? Where the knight in shining armor once touched down?"

"Ten minutes. You planning to leave it there?"

"Not for long," Castillo said. "So why don't we have lunch, then while I have a little talk with Otto, you have it up and running by oh-eight-hundred Washington time?"

"Can do."

[FIVE].

"A marvelous lunch, Helena. Thank you," Castillo said.

"I'm glad you liked it, Karl," she said.

Castillo motioned to one of the maids for more coffee. When she had poured it, he said, "Danke schon," "Danke schon," and turned to Goerner. "So tell us, Otto, what you heard at the fund-raiser in Marburg about the boys moving money to Argentina," Castillo said. and turned to Goerner. "So tell us, Otto, what you heard at the fund-raiser in Marburg about the boys moving money to Argentina," Castillo said.

Goerner didn't reply.

"You said two things, Otto, that caught my attention. You said what caught your attention was they said something about, 'Ha, ha, Der Fuhrer was the first to come up with that idea. . . .'"

Helena flashed him a cold look. "I don't think the children should hear this," she said.

"Your call, of course, Helena," Castillo said. "But when I was even younger than the boys, my grandfather, at this very table, told me all about the evils the National Socialist German Workers Party-more popularly known as the n.a.z.is-had brought to our fair land. He thought it was important that I knew about it as early as possible."

Her face tightened and grew white.

"You remember, Otto, don't you?" Castillo went on. "The Old Man, sitting where you are now sitting; you and Onkel Onkel Willi and my mother sitting over there, and me sitting where Willi is. . . ." Willi and my mother sitting over there, and me sitting where Willi is. . . ."

"I remember, Karl," Goerner said.

Helena stood up and threw her napkin on the table.

"Come on, boys," she said.

"You don't have to stay, Liebchen Liebchen," Otto said. "But the boys will."

She locked eyes with him, and then walked out of the room.

Goerner looked at Castillo.

"Your mother used to say, you know, that the one thing you really inherited from the Old Man was his complete lack of tact," he said.

Castillo nodded, and then said, "You said you thought the money they were moving was from Oil for Food."

Goerner nodded.

"Let me tell you where I'm coming from, Karl," he said. "When you were being a smart-a.s.s before, with 'the legend of the castle,' it started me thinking. You were right. Your grandfather didn't like Americans, and if the Old Man were alive today, he probably would like them even less. But then I realized that if he were still here, and knew what's going on, and an American intelligence officer-not you, not his grandson, any American intelligenceofficer he thought he could trust-came to him and asked about this, he would have told him everything he knew.

"And you're right, Karl, I am sitting in the Old Man's chair. And in this chair, I have always tried to do what the Old Man would do. You understand me? That's why we're talking about what we never said out loud before, what you really are; that's why I'm going to tell you what I know, and that's why I wanted the boys to hear this. The Old Man was right about that, too. You're never too young to learn what a lousy world we're living in."

"I understand, Otto," Castillo said.

"Some of this I know myself," Goerner began, "but most of it comes from Eric Kocian-"

"Who?"

"He's the editor of the Budapester Neue Zeitung Budapester Neue Zeitung," Goerner said. He looked at Torine. "That's one of ours, which is to say, one of Charley's. Charley did tell you, didn't he, that he's the owner of Gossinger Beteiligungsgesellschaft, G.m.b.H.? That's the holding company for everything."

"No, he didn't," Torine said. He looked at Castillo and added, "It probably just slipped his mind."

"Okay, Eric is an old man. Well into his seventies. He's half Hungarian and half Viennese. He was an eighteen-year-old Gefreite Gefreite-corporal-in the Old Man's regiment in Stalingrad. They were really seriously wounded, which turned out to be a good thing for them. They were evacuated on the same plane; they didn't wind up in Siberia for a decade or so after the surrender at Stalingrad.

"After the war, Eric came here-Vienna was nothing but rubble; what was left of his family had been killed the day the Americans tried to bomb the Hauptbahnhof Hauptbahnhof and missed and destroyed Saint Stephen's Cathedral-and he really didn't have anyplace else to go. The Old Man put him to work on the farm, and then on the and missed and destroyed Saint Stephen's Cathedral-and he really didn't have anyplace else to go. The Old Man put him to work on the farm, and then on the Tages Zeitung Tages Zeitung when he could start that up again. And then when the Old Man got the when he could start that up again. And then when the Old Man got the Wiener Tages Zeitung Wiener Tages Zeitung up and running, Eric went to Vienna. He was managing editor, about to retire, when we got the up and running, Eric went to Vienna. He was managing editor, about to retire, when we got the Budapester Zeitung Budapester Zeitung presses back from the communists. Eric came to me when he heard I was thinking of selling the plant, and asked that he be allowed to try to get the presses back from the communists. Eric came to me when he heard I was thinking of selling the plant, and asked that he be allowed to try to get the Zeitung Zeitung up and running again. up and running again.

"I didn't think that would work, but I knew the Old Man wouldn't have told him no, so I agreed. We renamed it the Budapester Neue Zeitung Budapester Neue Zeitung and he started it up and he started it up. It worked. It's the largest German-language newspaper in Hungary, and is actually a compet.i.tor of the It worked. It's the largest German-language newspaper in Hungary, and is actually a compet.i.tor of the Wiener Tages Zeitung Wiener Tages Zeitung in Slovakia, the Czech Republic, and Eastern Austria." in Slovakia, the Czech Republic, and Eastern Austria."

"He's the guy who did the story on the Lebanese, what's his name, Douchon, who was murdered in Vienna?" Castillo asked.

"The first story was written by one of our men on the Wiener Tages Zeitung. Wiener Tages Zeitung. When Eric saw it on our wire, he had serious doubts about it. So he went to Vienna himself, where of course he knew everybody, especially the senior police, and they told him that it wasn't a . . ." Goerner stopped and looked uncomfortably at his sons for a moment and then went on: ". . . a case of one more Middle Eastern h.o.m.os.e.xual being murdered by his blond Viennese boyfriend, as our man had hinted, but most likely by people who wanted to shut Douchon's mouth so that he wouldn't be talking about Oil for Food. When Eric saw it on our wire, he had serious doubts about it. So he went to Vienna himself, where of course he knew everybody, especially the senior police, and they told him that it wasn't a . . ." Goerner stopped and looked uncomfortably at his sons for a moment and then went on: ". . . a case of one more Middle Eastern h.o.m.os.e.xual being murdered by his blond Viennese boyfriend, as our man had hinted, but most likely by people who wanted to shut Douchon's mouth so that he wouldn't be talking about Oil for Food.

"Eric had already been looking into the oil-for-food story, and it fit what he'd dug up himself. So he came to me-came here; he didn't trust the telephone-and told me about it, and said he really wanted to go into it.

"I told him he was liable to get himself killed, and he responded, 'At my age, what a good way to go out, on a big story.' So I told him no, I'd a.s.sign people to the story, and then he said, 'Okay, then I retire. I'm going to do this story.'"

"Did he retire?"

"Of course not," Goerner said.

"I want to talk to him. Tomorrow."

"I'll have to go with you," Goerner said. "Like most people around here, Kocian thinks you're squandering the Old Man's money while pretending to be our Washington correspondent. He actually pointed out to me the striking similarities between a story we published under your byline and a piece that appeared in the American Conservative American Conservative magazine. I forget what it was, but you certainly didn't spend a lot of time paraphrasing that story." magazine. I forget what it was, but you certainly didn't spend a lot of time paraphrasing that story."

"I'll try to be more careful in the future," Castillo said.

Goerner nodded.

"Your original question, Karl, was about money being hidden, or washed, in South America, especially Argentina."