"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 asked for."
"Sir, how about getting Dick Miller out of the hospital and having him vet the daily intel reports?"
"Charley, you know as well as I do that he just had yet another operation on his knee."
"Sir, he told me that just as soon as he can get out of bed, he's going on recuperative leave."
"And instead you want him to come over here with his knee in a cast and go through the daily intels?"
"I think he'd rather do that than lie in a bed at Walter Reed or go home."
"I'll see what I can find out, but refusing you that would be something I might be able to justify to the President. Even in his present state of mind, I think he might be sympathetic to my explanation, 'Sir, Major Miller is in Walter Reed, recovering from an operation on his knee.'"
"Yes, sir."
"I'll call you when I have ETAs on both planes."
"Thank you, sir."
"Charley, did you ever hear that 'no good deed goes unpunished'?"
"Yes, sir."
"I'm almost sorry-operative word almost-that you found the goddamn 727."
"Yes, sir." [TWO] "Doctor," the secretary of Homeland Security said into the phone to the chief, orthopedic surgery division, the Walter Reed Army Medical Center, at the other end of the line, "let me be sure I understand you. Presuming he keeps his leg as immobile as reasonably possible, there is no reason Major Miller has to stay in Walter Reed while waiting for his cast to be removed, and that will not be for fifteen days?
"And you have advised him of this and that he's free to go on recuperative leave?"
Hall looked at Joel Isaacson sitting in an office chair on the other side of the desk as Hall parroted the doctor:
"You have strongly recommended personally that he go home and get TLC from his mother, whom you have known all of Major Miller's life.
"And you think I should know that Major Miller is at least as stubborn and hardheaded as his father, whom you have known even longer than you have his mother, as he has declined to take the recuperative leave despite your strong personal recommendation."
Isaacson smiled and shook his head.
"With your permission, Doctor, I'm going to ask Major Miller if he would like to perform some limited duty-administrative-in my office. If he agrees, I have a place-with room service-for him to stay, and can get a Yukon to haul him back and forth-
"Just keep him off his leg? I can do that, sir." "Joel, you call him," Secretary Hall directed. "If I call, he'll consider it an order."
Isaacson nodded and reached for Hall's telephone. Hall slid a yellow stick-'em note with the Walter Reed telephone number on it, and Isaacson punched it in.
"Put it on the speakerphone," Hall ordered. "Dick, Joel Isaacson. Am I calling at a good time?"
"A good time for what?"
"For you to tell me how you're doing, for example?"
"I'm up to my ass, literally, in about thirty pounds of plaster of paris."
"How do you feel?"
"How would you feel, Joel, if you were up to your ass, literally, in thirty pounds of plaster of paris?"
"I thought they might let you go home on recuperative leave."
"They are trying to make me go home on recuperative leave."
"You don't want to go?"
"Tell me, Joel, if you were up to your ass in thirty pounds of plaster of paris, would you want to spend your days taking the correspondence courses offered by the Command and General Staff College?"
"I don't follow you."
"That is what Major General Miller has in mind for his beloved son to do. He has this thing about using one's time profitably, and never wasting a second."
"So what are you doing with your time?"
"Watching reruns of Hollywood Squares and M*A*S*H on the tube. I haven't been too successful in enticing any of the nurses to hop in bed with me."
"We need some help in the office. Couple of hours a day. Interested?"
"Joel, when was the last time you were kissed by a six-foot-two black man? When do you want me?"
"You didn't even ask what we need you to do."
"Quoting Clark Gable in Gone With the Wind, which I have seen two more times since I have been in here, 'Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn!'"
"What if I came over in the morning and picked you up? You're still welcome in Charley's apartment, I guess?"
"What if you come over right now and pick me up? And where is that sonofabitch? He was supposed to bring me a bottle the day before yesterday and never showed up."
"He's in Argentina."
"I just saw that on Fox News. The bad guys blew Jack the Stack away. What's Charley got to do with that?"
"I'll tell you when you get here."
"And, back to that question, when will that be?"
"Hold one, Dick," Isaacson said, punched off the speakerphone, covered the microphone with his hand, and looked at Secretary Hall.
"Go get him," Hall ordered.
"Dick, I'll be over there in, say, half an hour," Isaacson said.
"Well, if that's the best you can do," Miller said, and hung up. [THREE] Castillo came out of the phone booth and smiled at the guy in charge of the communications room.
"Thank you," he said, and then, pointing at a coffeemaker, "What are my chances of getting a cup of that?"
"Couldn't be better, sir," the man said, and handed Castillo a china mug.
"Soldier or Marine?" Castillo asked.
"Soldier, sir. Sergeant First Class."
"Do you ever yearn for simple soldiering?" Castillo asked. "Nothing to worry about except maybe an IG inspection?"
"Sometimes, sir. But this is pretty interesting, and the life here is good."
"Did you know Mr. Masterson?"
"Yes, sir. One of the good guys. What the hell is going on?"
"Right now, nobody knows," Castillo said.
Including, or maybe especially, the guy who by direction of the President is now in charge of the investigation.
And who is about to become the most unpopular sonofabitch in the embassy, with everybody from the ambassador on down pissed at him.
And with cause.
They have done their very best, from a sense of duty plus their feelings of admiration for Masterson and his wife, and it hasn't been good enough.
They're probably thinking, Some hotshot who's been in Buenos Aires for two days is now in charge. God only knows what that sonofabitch said about us when he got on a secure line to Washington.
He took a sip of the coffee, burned his lip, and said, "Shit!"
"I should have warned you it was hot," the commo sergeant said.
"My fault," Castillo said.
Well, at least I learned how to handle a situation like this at The Point.
It's essentially a matter of what not to do.
You don't line the troops up and say, "Jesus, guys, wait until you hear what a dumb order we just got."
When you get a lawful order, no matter how dumb- and with all due respect, Mr. President, this decision of yours is about as dumb as orders get-you either refuse to obey it or you obey it.
And since this order cannot be refused-it's "not open for debate" and I have sworn a solemn oath, without any mental reservations whatsoever to cheerfully obey the orders of officers appointed over me, which would certainly include the President-that means I will have to go before the troops bubbling over with enthusiasm to carry out the brilliant order I have just received. And then do my godd
amnedest to execute it.
"Can I take this with me? The ambassador wants to see me ten minutes ago."
"Sure," the sergeant said. [FOUR] "Sir, I just spoke with Secretary Hall, who told me what the President has ordered."
"The President made it crystal clear what he wishes done; what he wants you to do," Ambassador Silvio said.
"For your ears only, sir, I'm way out of my depth."
"The President doesn't seem to think so," Silvio said, "and that's all that really matters, isn't it?"
"Yes, sir, I guess it is."
"I've asked everybody with a role in this to come to the conference room. They're in there now."
"Have you said anything to them, sir?"
"I thought I would ask you what you would like me to say before I said anything."
"Sir, I think the simple facts-that the President told you he has given me the responsibility to get Mrs. Masterson and the children, and Mr. Masterson's body, safely out of the country, and that I am now in charge of the investigation-would be the best way to handle it."
"That's about what I was thinking," Silvio said. "Just before the President called me, I made a decision that I don't think is going to please the FBI team that's coming down."
"Yes, sir?"
"Colonel Munz asked for permission to perform the autopsy on Mr. Masterson's body and I gave that permission. It was a tough call."
"I'm not sure I follow you, sir."
"We get into a somewhat hazy area of law and diplomacy here," Silvio said. "A murder and an abduction have occurred. Those are violations of Argentine law. The murder of an official of the U.S. government, no matter where it occurs, is a violation of the United States Code, one of the few offenses for which the death penalty may be applied…"
Castillo thought, If I needed another proof that I don't know what the hell I'm doing, I never thought about any of this.
"… And in theory at least, the government can demand that the perpetrators be extradited to the United States for trial. I don't know-I just haven't had the time to look into it-where Mrs. Masterson's abduction fits into this, but her abduction violates Argentine law."
"I never even thought about this," Castillo confessed.
"I've given it some thought," Silvio said. "Now, presuming that the people who did this are apprehended, they would be arrested by the Argentines, and tried in an Argentine court. The problem I have with that is that if found guilty, the maximum penalty is twenty or twenty-five years' imprisonment."
"No death penalty," Castillo said.
"And, for your ears only, Mr. Castillo, while I would dearly love to see these people-what is that lovely phrase?-'hung by the neck until dead, dead, dead,' that's just not going to happen.
"Furthermore, extradition poses some problems. Unfortunately, a number of Argentine officials and more important legislators oppose anything we norteamericanos ask for-probably a vestige of Juan Domingo Peron-as a Pavlovian reflex. While I'm fairly certain that extradition would ultimately be approved, I'm not certain.
"Our death penalty enters into the equation. When I was a young consular officer in Paris, there was a terrible man from Philadelphia who stuffed his girlfriend in a trunk and let her petrify there. When this was finally discovered and he was arrested, his attorney-now Senator Arlen Specter, as a matter of interest-got him out on bail, which he promptly jumped. We finally located him in France. When we tried to have him extradited, French officials and legislators, who seem to share the Argentine fondness for denying anything we Americans ask, were more than a little difficult.
"One of the reasons they cited for denying extradition was that we have the death penalty, and they don't. There were other reasons, but that was one of their major moral arguments. It took us about twenty years to get this chap extradited from France. That took place just a couple of years ago. And I feel sure that our death penalty would be advanced as a reason for the Argentines to deny extradition."
"I heard that story," Castillo said. "I have some friends in the Philadelphia Police Department."
Including a former sergeant named Betty Schneider, who at this very moment is on her way down here. And who may not be nearly as delighted to see me as I will be to see her.
"Two of whom, sir," Castillo went on, "have become Secret Service agents. I asked that they be sent here to assist me. One of them is a woman, whom I intend to assign to Mrs. Masterson's security detail. The other is a very bright detective, who will keep his eyes on the investigation for me. He's a black guy, which I thought might be useful."
"So you do have some ideas what to do?" Silvio said. "I suspect you're not nearly as far out of your depth as you say you are."
Oh, yes I am. And did I ask for Sergeant Schneider because I wanted her to sit on Mrs. Masterson, or because I can't get her out of my mind? How does Dick Miller so cleverly phrase it? That I have the lamentable tendency to think with my dick?
"With all of these things in mind," Silvio said, "it seemed to me that justice-as much of it as can be expected in this circumstance-would best be served to have these scum tried and convicted in an Argentine court."
"Yes, sir. I understand."
"Which means, of course, that all evidence gathered will be retained by the Argentine judicial system; that extraditionof these people, even if finally approved, would be futile. Even if we could get around the double jeopardy business, we would have no evidence to present. Plus, the very act-justified, legally permissible, or not- of asking for extradition would certainly offend Argentine pride. It would be tantamount to saying we don't trust their judicial system."
"Did you tell the President what you had decided, Mr. Ambassador?"
"The conversation, Mr. Castillo, was rather one-sided," Silvio said. "Is there anything else we should talk over before we go into the conference room, do you think?"
"I can't think of anything, sir." [FIVE] Everyone sitting at the long conference table stopped talking and rose to their feet as Ambassador Silvio and Castillo entered the room.
Alex Darby was at the foot of the table. Kenneth Lowery sat on his right, and Tony Santini on his left. The two FBI agents from Montevideo sat together. There were a dozen other men around the table. Castillo didn't know any by name, but some of them, the DEA people, he recognized from the brainstorming session Masterson had organized the day before. There were three people in uniform: an Air Force colonel, an Army colonel, and a Marine gunnery sergeant.
Castillo pegged them as the defense attache, the military mission commander, and the NCO in charge of the Marine guards. Everybody looked at Castillo with unabashed curiosity.
"Keep your seats, please, gentlemen," Silvio ordered, as he walked to the head of the table. He put his hands on the back of the chair there.
"For those of you who haven't had the opportunity to meet him, this gentleman is Mr. C. G. Castillo, who is in Argentina as the President's agent. A short time ago, the President conveyed to me his decision to place Mr. Castillo in charge of dealing with all aspects of the unfortunate situation we find ourselves in vis-a-vis Chief of Mission J. Winslow Masterson and his family. The President further informed me that the secretary of state, the secretary of defense, and the directors of the Central Intelligence Agency and the Federal Bureau of Investigation have been informed of his decision."
The ambassador looked at Castillo, said, "Mr. Castillo, you have the floor," and sat in the first chair at the side of the table.
Castillo looked around the room.
There's not a hell of a lot of friendly faces looking at me. As a matter of fact, none.
Well, here goes.
"Good morning, gentlemen," Castillo began. "Our priorities are these. First, the protection of Mrs. Masterson and her children. Second, the protection of all embassy personnel. Third, to cooperate with the Argentine authorities in their investigation of what has happened.
"In regard to the last, after consulting with Ambassador Silvio, I have decided that we will proceed on the assumption tha
t the Argentine government will find out who committed these crimes, arrest the culprits, and subject them to trial in Argentine courts."
"We're not even going to try to extradite these scum-bags?" FBI agent Yung asked.
"That is what, after consultation with Ambassador Silvio, I have decided. And please don't interrupt me again until I open the floor for comments and questions," Castillo said.
There was some murmuring, but nothing more.
Well, I got away with that. Let's see what else I can get away with.
"With regard to Priority One: Mr. Santini, who has had extensive experience with the Secret Service Presidential Protection Detail, will assume responsibility for the protection of the Masterson family until we can get them safely out of the country. An Air Force transport is already in the air on its way down here to transport Mr. Masterson's body and his family to the United States.
"With regard to Priority Two: Mr. Lowery will put in place whatever heightened security measures he deems necessary for the protection of all other embassy personnel. I know the President has a deep interest in this, so I'd like, within the hour, a rough game plan from you, Mr. Lowery, so that after Ambassador Silvio approves it-or modifies it-I can send it to Washington."
Castillo looked at Lowery, who said, "Yes, sir. Within the hour."
Two down.
"With regard to Priority Three: Mr. Darby will handle all arrangements to cooperate with the Argentine authorities in their investigation of this situation, and, coordinatingwith Mr. Santini and Mr. Lowery, the incorporation of what security personnel the Argentine government provides into our own security arrangements.
"Further, the FBI is sending a team of investigators down here. They will report to Mr. Darby. Mr… Yung, is it?"
"Yung," he confirmed.
"You will be responsible for the logistic support of the FBI team. Find them someplace to live, to operate, automobiles, whatever they need, and also keep Ambassador Silvio, Mr. Darby, Mr. Lowery, Mr. Santini, and myself advised on a timely basis of whatever their investigation develops.
"The Secret Service is sending two special agents down here. One, Special Agent Schneider, will report to Mr. Santini to assist in the protection of the Masterson family. Special Agent Britton will monitor both the Argentine's and our investigation-including, of course, the FBI's- and report to the ambassador and me what information he comes up with. I will, since both special agents will be working for me, handle their logistic requirements."
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