"I have an interest in the Tages Zeitung publishing firm," Castillo said.
Montvale smiled, then while looking at Castillo said: "Actually, Mr. Ambassador, in his alter ego role as Karl Wilhelm von und zu Gossinger, Castillo owns the Tages Zeitung publishing empire."
Silvio's eyebrows rose in surprise.
Castillo calmly went on: "I was, when we heard about this, in Washington with a man named Eric Kocian, who is publisher of the Budapest Tages Zeitung. An attempt to murder him in Budapest was made some time ago. Kocian was our man who reopened the Vienna Tages Zeitung after World War Two. And he was an old friend of the Kuhls. And he considered Friedler a close friend. He announced he was going to (a) go to their funerals and (b) find out who had murdered them. There was no way I could stop him, so we got on the Gulfstream and flew to Germany.
"Going off at a tangent, there were, within the twenty-four-hour period I mentioned, two more assassination attempts, both of which failed. One was here--actually in Pilar; that's about forty-five klicks from here, Mr. Montvale--when Comandante Liam Duffy of the Gendarmeria Nacional and his family were leaving a restaurant. . . ."
"I heard about that," Ambassador Silvio said softly.
"Duffy was in on the operation when we got the DEA agent back from the drug people in Paraguay. The second attempt, in Philadelphia, was on Special Agent Jack Britton of the Secret Service and his wife. They took fire from fully-auto AKs as they drove up to their home. For years, Britton had been a deep-cover Philly cop keeping an eye on an aptly named bunch of African-American Lunatics involved in, among other things, the lunatic idea of crashing that stolen 727 into the Liberty Bell and making mysterious trips to Africa--including the Congo--financed, we found out, with oil-for-food money.
"Britton was on the Vice President's security detail. When he was informed 'of course, you're off that assignment' and otherwise made to feel he was being punished for having been the target of an assassination attempt, he said some very rude things to various senior Secret Service people, then told them what they could do with the Secret Service and came to see me before we flew to Germany. I sent him and his wife down here--"
"And why did you think you had the authority to do that?" Montvale demanded.
Castillo ignored the interruption and, looking at Silvio, continued: "I was initially thinking Jack would be just the guy to help protect Ambassador Masterson in Uruguay. And since Jack had, so to speak, burned his Secret Service bridge, I didn't think--and still don't think--that I had to ask anyone's permission."
He met Montvale's eyes.
"So what happened in Germany?" Montvale said after a moment.
"I was at the Haus im Wald, near Bad Hersfeld--it used to belong to my mother, but now Otto Gorner, who runs Gossinger Beteiligungsgesellschaft, the holding company, lives there--when there was a call for me--as Castillo--from quote the U.S. embassy in Berlin unquote.
"When I answered it, a guy asked in Berliner German if he had Gossinger--not Castillo--and when I said 'yes,' he switched to English--faultless American accent--and said, 'Sorry to bother you, Colonel Castillo, but I thought you would like to know an attempt will be made on your life and Gorner's and Kocian's during the Friedler funeral.' Sometime during the conversation, he said his name was 'Tom Barlow' and that I should be careful as the workers were ex-Stasi.
"And then he hung up.
"Friedler's funeral, the next day, was in Saint Elisabeth's church in Marburg. We had reserved seats. Two of my guys checked them before the ceremony. They found an envelope addressed to me--Gossinger--in one of the prayer books. It contained a photocopy of Berezovsky's passport and four cards with the name 'Tom Barlow' on one, and 'Vienna,' 'Budapest,' and 'Berlin' on the others. 'Berlin' had been crossed out.
"What it looked like was that Berezovsky wanted to meet me in either Vienna or Budapest and would be using the name 'Tom Barlow.' "
"You mean he wanted to defect?" Montvale asked, his tone now somewhat civil.
"It didn't say that, but we thought that was likely."
"And it never occurred to you to contact the station agent in either Berlin or Vienna or Budapest?"
"I considered that and decided against it."
Montvale shook his head in obvious disgust. "So you went to Vienna to see what would happen?"
"Let me tell this through, please," Castillo said, and after a visibly annoyed Montvale nodded his assent, went on: "Nothing happened at the church, possibly because my people and the local cops were all over it. Afterward, Kocian said he wanted to go to the Kuhl funeral in Vienna and wanted to go there on the train. I sent the airplane ahead to Vienna, and Kocian and I--plus Kocian's bodyguard and one of my guys--caught the train in Kassel."
"Which one of your guys?" Montvale said.
"That's not germane."
"The one General McNab sent to make sure you didn't do anything stupid, as you're so wont to do? The one sitting in there with the gendarmes? Sergeant Major Davidson?"
"We went to lunch on the train," Castillo said, ignoring the question. "Berezovsky, his wife and daughter, and Alekseeva were having their lunch. I recognized him from the photocopy of his passport picture and spoke to him. He said he would like to talk a little business, so I invited them to my compartment.
"Thirty minutes later, they showed up--just Berezovsky and Alekseeva--told me who they were, and said they were willing to defect for two million dollars. I asked him what he had that was worth two million dollars, and he promised to tell me all about the chemical factory in the Congo once he was where he wanted me to take them in the Gulfstream."
"Where did he want you to take them?"
"Next question?"
"Okay. And at no time during all this did it occur to you that you were in way over your head with something like this, and what you should do was take these people to the U.S. embassy in Vienna and turn them over to the CIA station chief? Or call me, for Christ's sake, and ask me what you should do? I thought we had an agreement."
"That implies that you have some authority over me, and we both know you don't," Castillo said. "We do have an agreement, but I came to understand that this did not fit its guidelines. Berezovsky and Alekseeva were antsy, and it came out they knew that the Kuhls had been whacked, and I decided that's why they had come to me. They were afraid of what they were going to find in Vienna--from anyone who ultimately reports to you. Thus, the loophole in our agreement."
Montvale didn't say anything for a moment as he looked across the room in thought. It was clear he was not happy with what he was hearing. He then said: "How did they come to contact you in Germany?"
"My theory at the time was that Berezovsky went to Marburg to see that the ex-Stasi guys did a good job on Kocian and Goerner. Then--in what sequence, I don't know--they saw my picture--Gossinger's picture--in the Tages Zeitung--"
"What was that all about?"
"There was a front-page story that announced that the publisher--Gossinger--had returned to Germany from the States for Friedler's funeral and was offering a reward--a large reward--for information leading to the people who had taken him out.
"I decided that Berezovsky knew who Gossinger is--who I am--and saw in the newspaper photograph that I was traveling in the Gulfstream, and decided I was his safe ticket out of Europe.
"What I guessed then turned out to be pretty much on the money. They told me that they had heard about the Kuhls, which suggested the SVR would be waiting for them in Vienna. And they had very little faith in the CIA station chief in Vienna, fearing that she would leave them hanging in the breeze if the SVR was onto them.
"So I slipped them out of the West Bahnhof in Vienna, onto the Gulfstream, and got them the hell out of Dodge."
"And brought them here," Montvale finished for him. "Where are they, Charley? To salvage anything from this mess, we have to get them to Washington and turned over to the agency just as soon as possible."
"No. That's out of the question, I'm afraid. They are not going to turn th
emselves over to the agency."
Montvale exhaled audibly.
He said: "You're telling me that you offered to give them two million dollars to tell you all about the chemical factory in the Democratic Republic of the Congo? God, you don't even know its name!"
I'm not even going to respond to that ridiculous remark.
He's trying to get a rise out of me.
"I know all about that chemical factory," Montvale went on. "There's nothing of interest there." He grinned. "You have been conned out of two million dollars, my young friend."
Castillo caught his pulse rising at the condescension.
Let it go. . . .
He counted to ten, then said in a reasonable tone: "Tell you what. Why don't we call the agency and ask them? If they say there's nothing of interest to our national security there, then once again you've put blind faith in who feeds you your intel. Because they and you are wrong. More egg on their face and more, I'm afraid, on yours. There is a very active chemical laboratory and factory there, funded with oil-for-food money. It has the mission of poisoning the water supplies of our major cities and, they hope, poisoning as many millions of Americans as possible as collateral damage."
"Berezovsky told you this?"
Castillo nodded.
"And you believe him?"
Castillo nodded again.
"I don't have to call the agency to verify what I already know."
"If I were you, I would call," Castillo said. "If you do, and they tell you they're on top of the situation, and there's nothing to worry about, then you'll be covered, with Ambassador Silvio and I as witnesses, when this comes down. You asked and they assured you everything was hunky-dory."
For a moment, Castillo thought Montvale would not reach for the thick-corded secure telephone on Ambassador Silvio's desk, but in the end he did.
"How does this thing work?"
Silvio held out his hand and took the handset from Montvale.
"What we're going to have to do is get a secure line to the State Department switchboard. They can connect you with the CIA," Silvio said, then switched on the secure telephone.
"This is Ambassador Silvio. Get a secure line to State, then get a secure line to the director of Central Intelligence. Ambassador Montvale is calling."
Toward the end of saying "Ambassador Montvale is calling" Silvio had raised his voice questioningly while looking at Montvale, in effect asking, Did Montvale want the DCI or someone else?
Montvale had nodded, signaling that DCI was fine.
"Put it on the speakerphone," Castillo said. "That way Ambassador Silvio and I can both testify that you asked the DCI personally."
Montvale gave him a dirty look, then looked at the phone base and pushed the speakerphone button in time for everyone to hear, "Office of the DCI."
"This is Ambassador Montvale. Get me the DCI, please."
Moments later, the voice of John Powell, the director of the Central Intelligence Agency, inquired cheerfully: "How are you, Mr. Ambassador?"
"I'm well, thank you, Jack."
"What can I do for you?"
"I'm sitting in Ambassador Silvio's office in Buenos Aires."
"Little warm down there, isn't it?"
"Brutal. Jack, Lieutenant Colonel Castillo is with us."
"Oh, really?"
"The question has come up--actually, Castillo raised it--about activity in the Democratic Republic of the Congo; specifically, on that experimental farm the West Germans used to operate down there. You know what I mean?"
"Yes, of course."
"Do you know of anything going on down there?"
"Is that what Castillo suggested?"
"Yes, it is."
"Where did he get that?"
Castillo clapped his hands, then drew his right hand in a cutting motion across his throat.
"He'd rather not say," Montvale said.
"I see. Well, as I said, I haven't heard anything. But if you'll give me a minute, I'll check to see if anything has happened that I missed. Hang on a minute, please."
There came the murmur of unintelligible voices in the background, and then Powell came back on: "It'll take a couple of minutes. Are you on a speakerphone?"
"Yes, Jack, we are."
"How are you, Colonel?"
Castillo said: "I'm very well, Mr. Powell. Thank you. And yourself?"
"I understand you've been in Vienna."
"There is a rumor circulating to that effect, sir."
"Apropos of nothing whatever, Colonel, to kill the time while we're waiting to hear about Africa, so to speak, a couple of interesting Interpol warrants crossed my desk this morning."
"Yes, sir?"
"The Russians say that several of their diplomats--Dmitri Berezovsky and Svetlana Alekseeva, known to be SVR officers, one in Copenhagen and the other in Berlin--have absconded with large amounts of money. More than a million dollars from Copenhagen, and twice that from Berlin."
"Well, I suppose that goes to show we're not the only ones with crooked diplomats," Castillo said, and winked at Ambassador Silvio, who smiled and shook his head.
"The Russians seem really upset about these two," Powell went on. "They've offered a large reward for information leading to their arrest. And no one seems to know where they are or how they got there."
"Well, I'll keep my eyes peeled for dishonest-looking Russians, Mr. Powell. And you'll be the first to know if I find any."
"I don't like to think what will happen to these people--Lieutenant Colonel Alekseeva is Colonel Berezovsky's sister, and his wife and little girl are apparently with them--if the SVR catches up with them. As they will eventually."
"Well, just off the top of my head, Mr. Powell, I'd say if anyone knew how to dodge the SVR it would be a couple of senior SVR officers. Especially if they had a lot of cash. What did you say they're supposed to have stolen? Three million dollars?"
"And off the top of my head, Colonel Castillo," Powell said with more than a little impatience in his voice, "if the situation presented itself, I'd think it obviously would be in their self-interest to place themselves under the protection of the CIA."
"And you'd really like to talk to them, right?"
"Yes, we would really like to talk to them."
"Well, I'd say that might be possible somewhere down the pike, but not anytime soon."
"Why do you say that?"
"Well, if I have heard that the Vienna station chief has a big mouth--I understand she's been telling wild stories to her old pal, Mrs. Patricia Davies Wilson, who in turn has been running her mouth to C. Harry Whelan, Jr."--Castillo glanced at Montvale to gauge his reaction to the mention of the journalist who'd tried to crucify Castillo but was outsmarted by Montvale--"I think we have to presume these people have heard it, too. Under those circumstances, I don't think if I were them I would place a hell of a lot of faith in the agency to protect them. Would you?"
There was a long silence, then Powell asked, "Did you ever hear of Lieutenant Colonel Oliver North, Colonel Castillo?"
"Isn't he one of those talking heads we see on Fox News?"
"Before that, he was a serving Marine officer who was given more authority than he could handle."
"The story I get, Mr. Powell, is that Colonel North saw what he was doing as his duty as an officer sworn to protect the United States from all enemies, foreign and domestic, and to do what he was doing despite a lot of opposition from what he called the 'LAs.' "
"The what?"
"I think it stands for 'Langley Assholes,' but I'm not sure."
Silvio suddenly had the urge to clear his throat. Castillo looked at him, but the ambassador apparently was finding the tips of his shoes fascinating.
Powell shot back: "Can I infer from that that you share North's opinion of the agency?"
"I don't know what Ollie thinks of the CIA. But if you're asking for my opinion?"
"Yes, I am."
"Some really wonderful people struggling to stay afloat in a sea of p
olitically correct left-wing bureaucrats."
"Interesting," Powell said icily.
"This is getting us nowhere," Montvale said. "How long is it going to take to get the information on the alleged chemical factory in the Congo?"
"I think Mr. Montvale means the Democratic Republic of the Congo," Castillo offered.
"It was just handed to me," Powell said. "The latest analysis is dated five days ago. It states that there is no discernible activity there of interest to the United States. They are apparently experimenting with fish farms."
" 'Fish farms'?" Castillo parroted.
"Yes, Colonel. I spell: Foxtrot-India-Sierra-Hotel farms."
Castillo shook his head. "Are you open to a suggestion, Mr. Powell?"
"I'll listen to one, Colonel Castillo."
"You might consider the possibility that whoever filed that, and whoever analyzed and approved the raw data, are cut from the same cloth as Mrs. Davies."
"Thank you for sharing that with me, Colonel," Powell replied again with more than a hint of sarcasm. "I will indeed take it under consideration."
"Nice to talk to you, Mr. Powell," Castillo said.
"Did you ever hear the old Russian proverb, Colonel, that people who dig their own graves usually are buried in them?"
"I think you just made that up," Castillo said.
"I'll get back to you later, Jack," Montvale said.
"I think that would be a good idea, Mr. Ambassador."
Montvale's face showed he didn't know what to do with the telephone. Ambassador Silvio took it from him and said into the handset, "Break it down, please."
"Satisfied, Castillo?" Montvale asked.
"Not really. With all the money we spend on the CIA, it seems to me they ought to be able to find their ass with only one hand, let alone both."
"As a matter of curiosity, why did you go out of your way to insult the DCI?"
"What's chiseled there in stone on the wall of the lobby at Langley? 'You shall know the truth and the truth shall make you free'? If hearing the truth insults the DCI, maybe he should look for other work."
"Okay. I've had enough. I am now going to tell you what's happened, and what's going to happen."
"Correction: What you would like to think is going to happen," Castillo said. "Unless I hear from the President to the contrary, I'm not subject to your orders."
Black Ops (Presidential Agent) Page 31
