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Everybody stopped. A man was quickly walking toward them.
"I am not as happy to see you, my friend," Chief Inspector Jose Ordonez said as he wrapped Munz in a bear hug and kissed his cheek, "as I would be if you were alone."
He looked at the others. "And my friend David Yung and Mr. Howell, of the culture department of the American embassy. How nice to see you both again."
He turned to Castillo and Delchamps and put his hand out to Delchamps.
"Colonel Castillo, I'm Chief Inspector Jose Ordonez of the Federal Police and I've been looking forward to meeting you."
"My name is Smith," Delchamps said. "No hable Espanol."
Ordonez smiled at him and shook his hand.
"I'm Castillo," Castillo said.
"Jose Ordonez, Colonel," Ordonez replied, offering his hand. "If I may say so, you're very young to have done all the things people say you have done."
"I try to live clean," Castillo said. "What did we do, walk in on a police convention?"
"I suppose it does look like a convention, doesn't it?" Ordonez said. "But, sadly, no. We are all here on duty. One of your countrymen has run into some difficulty."
"You don't say?"
"I was just about to call your embassy and tell them, but since Mr. Howell and Mr. Yung are here I can dispense with that. I'll show them the problem. If it's all right with them, the rest of you may come along."
He gestured toward the elevator bank and they all got in.
The door from the corridor opened into the living room of suite 1808. One wall was mostly glass and offered a view of the Punta del Este downtown sky-line and the Atlantic Ocean.
There were two men sitting in high-backed upholstered chairs. One of them, who looked as if he had slipped down in the chair, had his mouth open. The back of the chair behind him was matted with blood and brain tissue.
The other man was Howard Kennedy.
He had been strapped into his chair with duct tape. There was something in his mouth, either a red ball or a ball of another color, now covered with blood. His eyes were wide-open.
His body seemed strangely limp and, after a moment, when he saw Kennedy's hands, Castillo understood.
"It would seem," Ordonez said, matter-of-factly, "that Mr. Kennedy was beaten to death, not with a baseball bat or something like that but with a piece of angle iron. They started with his toes, then his feet, then his shins, and then changed to his fingers, hands, wrists, etcetera. You can tell by the blood pattern. It must have taken some time for them to finish. We believe this man to be Howard Kennedy."
"That's Howard Kennedy," Castillo said. "Was Howard Kennedy."
"We're not sure who the other man is," Ordonez said.
"That's Lieutenant Colonel Viktor Zhdankov," Delchamps furnished, "of the FSB's Service for the Protection of the Constitutional System and the Fight Against Terrorism."
"That's not what his passport says, Senor Smith," Ordonez said. "It says he's a Czech businessman."
"Then I'm obviously wrong," Delchamps said.
"I really hope so," Ordonez said. "What we have here is bad enough, an American businessman and a Czech businessman murdered during a robbery. Even if that robbery, as has been suggested, was part of a drug deal that went wrong, that would pose far fewer problems for me-and, indeed, for Uruguay-if I had to start investigating the murders of a senior KSB officer and a man known to have close ties to an international outlaw by the name of Aleksandr Pevsner. You understand?"
"I think so," Delchamps said.
"I am really sorry to have subjected you to this. I fully understand that it ruined your holiday and has caused you to feel that you have to leave Uruguay immediately and not to return until this terrible memory has had time to fade."
"The man has a point, Ace," Delchamps said.
"Chief Inspector Ordonez," Castillo said, offering his hand, "may I ask you one question before I leave?"
"Certainly."
"I read something in the papers about some bodies-six, I recall-being found on an estancia somewhere here in Uruguay. What was that all about?"
"Our investigation concluded that was another drug deal that went wrong. Such an ugly business yet so common. The estancia owner apparently led a dual life as a drug dealer. I frankly doubt if we'll ever be able to make an arrest. The case is closed, for all practical purposes."
"Thank you very much."
"Not at all," he said, pumping Castillo's hand. "Perhaps we'll meet again under happier circumstances. Any friends of my dear friend Alfredo, so to speak, are friends of mine."
"I'd like that," Castillo said. [EIGHT] The Restaurant Kansas Avenida Libertador San Isidro Buenos Aires Province, Argentina 2025 14 August 2005 Castillo waved the waiter over and called for the check.
"Why don't you let me take care of that?" Ambassador Juan Manuel Silvio said. "I can charge it to my representation allowance."
"Your pockets, sir, are nowhere near as deep as those of the Lorimer Charitable Trust, but thank you anyway. I'm really grateful to you for coming all the way out here to meet with us."
"This is Argentina. The only other place you could have eaten before eight would have been one of the places in the port. Or a McDonald's."
"Not to ask a rude question, but isn't this the place where they snatched Mr. Masterson?" Delchamps asked.
"In the parking lot," Silvio said, pointing. "So in a way, this is ending where it began, I suppose."
"But it's not ended," Castillo said. "Masterson's murderers, for all I know, are still running around free."
"But some of their peers, and their superiors, are no longer with us, are they?" Silvio said. "And some have left us under circumstances, God forgive me, that I consider entirely appropriate."
Castillo's cellular buzzed.
"Now what?" he muttered.
He took the phone from his pants pocket.
"?Hola?" he said into it.
"I'm sorry I had to go back on my word, friend Charley."
"You sonofabitch. You told me I could have him."
"He knew too much about me to have him talking to you, Charley."
"Fuck you, Alek!"
"And besides, I decided that five years of regular rape was not sufficient punishment for his betrayal of me."
"Fuck you, again."
There was a moment's silence before Pevsner went on, coolly: "Let me tell you what I've done."
"And why should I believe anything you tell me?"
"Hear what I have to say and then you can decide. I spoke with Sunev and told him that I have deposited with certain people envelopes that will be sent to the CIA in the event I even suspect he has sent anyone near me, my family, or anyone involved in the recent events we have shared."
"And what's in the envelopes?"
"Oh, I'm sure you can make a good guess, friend Charley."
"Goddamn you, Alek!"
"We'll be in touch," Pevsner said, and then the change in the background noise told Castillo that Pevsner had broken the connection.
Castillo punched his autodial button for Pevsner but got a recorded message saying that the telephone number called was no longer in service.
He put the phone back in his pocket.
"I hope you appreciate, Mr. Ambassador," Delchamps said, "that you are in the presence of the only man in the world who can tell Aleksandr Pevsner to fuck himself twice in thirty seconds and probably-operative word 'probably'-live until the morning."
Silvio laughed.
"Are we going to see more of you, Mr. Delchamps? If you're coming back to work with the others, maybe I could be of some assistance. Someplace to live, etcetera?"
"That's very kind of you, sir. But I'm going to spend the next couple of months trolling through the basement at Langley. Two-Gun here will be coming back, though."
"I'm going to take these two with me when I go face Ambassador Montvale," Castillo said. "In numbers, there is strength. But if you want to be useful, see what you can do about keeping Two-Gun here
out of trouble upon his return."
"It will be my pleasure."
"Now we have to get a cab."
"Nonsense," Ambassador Silvio said. "I'll take you out to your jet." [NINE] Office of the Chief Office of Organizational Analysis Department of Homeland Security Nebraska Avenue Complex Washington, D.C. 1625 15 August 2005 "Well," Castillo said, "that went pretty well, I think…"
"Ace, you didn't say a word that the President was going to come with Montvale. That was just too much to spring on an old man."
"…Except, of course, that he turned a deaf ear to my suggestion that it was time for me to return to being a simple soldier."
"You might as well forget that, Ace. He likes things the way they are."
"Yeah," Yung agreed. "The part I liked was when he said, 'It's a shame to leave all that oil-for-food money in that fellow Kenyon's account. It's not right that he be allowed to keep it. Isn't there some way we could add it to OOA operating funds?'"
Castillo said, "I hope you weren't just running off at the mouth when you chirped, 'Not a problem, Mr. President.'"
"No problem at all," Yung said. "You want me to go to Dallas and do that before I go back down there?"
"Absolutely. And you can catch a direct flight-American, I think-from Dallas to Buenos Aires. But before you go to Dallas there's something really important I want you to do."
"What?"
"Get on the Net and Google for a breeder of Bouvier des Flandres in the Dallas area."
"For a what?" Delchamps asked.
"Max is a Bouvier des Flandres. I thought you knew."
"And?" Yung asked.
"Buy the best breedable bitch available-cost is not a factor-make sure her papers are in order and take her with you to Pilar."
"I actually think you're serious," Delchamps said.
"I don't know how things are done in the spook world," Castillo said, "but in the Army when someone saves your ass, the least you can do for him is get him laid." He looked at Yung and added: "Tell Billy Kocian I want pick of the litter."
"I'll be goddamned," Delchamps said, smiling. "Two-Gun, tell Kocian I get second choice."
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