"Yes, sir."
He's got it. His face is white. And I feel like a shit.
"You heard what he said, Ace, about the cat being out of the bag?" Delchamps asked, but it sounded to Castillo like a statement.
"Edgar, butt out," Castillo said.
"I was thinking about collateral damage," Delchamps said. "Who's he been talking to? Which of them has been running at the mouth? What are you going to do about shutting them up?"
There I go again, underestimating Delchamps!
"Let's go to the house," Castillo said, gesturing. "You, Ed, and Tony and-somebody go inside and get Sieno."
"Which one, Colonel?" Davidson asked.
"Both of them," Castillo ordered. "And, Jack, sit on Lieutenant Lorimer here. If he even looks like he's thinking of taking off, shoot him in his good leg."
There were two suites of rooms on the second floor of Nuestra Pequena Casa, each containing a large bedroom, a walk-in-closet, and a bathroom. The Sienos occupied the larger of the two. Castillo had taken the slightly smaller one for himself.
Castillo's bedroom had one chair-at a dressing table-and a chaise lounge. Susanna Sieno-a trim, pale-freckled-skin redhead who did not look like what came to mind when "an officer of the clandestine service of the CIA" was said-took the dressing table chair. Delchamps and Paul Sieno sat side by side on the chaise lounge. Solez wordlessly asked permission to sit on the edge of the bed. When Castillo nodded, and he had, Tony Santini sat beside Solez.
Castillo leaned against the wall by the door, and after a moment said, "The word that comes to mind is 'compromised'…goddammit!"
"It happens, Ace," Delchamps said.
"Okay, we shut down. We were going to the States anyway in a couple of days. Now we go now."
There were nods of agreement.
"I'd love to know how this happened," Castillo said.
"I'd say Uruguay," Susanna Sieno said.
Castillo looked at her, then made a come on gesture.
"The OK Corral shoot-out took place there," she explained. "And you jerked Dave Yung and Julio Artigas out of the embassy, which was sure to cause gossip in the embassy, and then they found Howard Kennedy's body in the Conrad in Punta del Este…"
"What's that got to with this Lieutenant Lorimer in Paraguay?" Castillo interrupted.
"The spooks and the cops in Asuncion find a lot of reasons to, quote, confer, close quote, with the spooks and the cops in Montevideo," she said. "Like the dentists who go to Hawaii for two weeks, all tax-deductible, to confer for two hours on how to drill a molar with caries."
Delchamps chuckled.
"I'm not sure I understand," Castillo said.
"I think Susanna is onto it, Ace," Delchamps said. "I'll put it in soldier terms for you. You know what R amp;R is, right?"
Castillo nodded. "Rest and Recuperation."
"Sometimes known as I amp; I, for Intercourse and Intoxication," Delchamps went on. "And we know how every second lieutenant is required to memorize, 'If indiscretions you must have, have them a hundred miles from the flagpole.'"
Castillo smiled. "Okay."
"I don't know anything about this, of course," Susanna Sieno said, "but my husband, who as far as I know never lies to me, says that healthy young men not lucky enough to be accompanied by their wives on an assignment to someplace like Asuncion have unsatisfied physical desires…"
"When you were in short pants, Ace, and I was in Moscow," Delchamps said, "I used to confer with my professional associates in Vienna every couple of months. It wasn't smart to accept the female companionship offered to horny young spooks by the KGB in Moscow. Getting the picture, or do I have to be more graphic and make you blush?"
"I'm getting the picture," Castillo said.
"So try this scenario on for size," Susanna Sieno said. "Agent X, of the firm, or the DIA, or the DEA, or the FBI, checks in with his peers at the embassy in Montevideo. This satisfies the requirements of his temporary-duty orders. He spends an hour in the embassy, and then it's off to the sandy beaches and the bikini-clad maidens of Punta del Este. So Agent X asks, 'Well, what's new, Willy?' "And Willy says, 'Nothing much here, but you heard about Jack the Stack Masterson getting whacked in front of his wife in Buenos Aires?' "And Agent X says, 'Yeah, what was that all about?' "And Willy says, 'God only knows, but what's interesting is that a Washington hotshot-I don't know this, but I heard that he's an Army officer sent by the President-has taken over the investigation.' "So Agent X goes back to Asuncion and tells this interesting story to the boys. And then Agent Y goes on R amp;R to Montevideo.
"'Willy, tell me about Jack the Stack's murder and the hotshot.' "To which Willy replies, 'I don't know much, but it's getting interesting. First, Dave Yung, one the FBI guys, gets jerked out of here and onto a plane for Washington. No explanation. And then, two days ago, right after Yung mysteriously disappeared, they find an American, who worked for the UN, and six guys all dressed like Ninjas, all dead at an estancia named-would you believe it?-Shangri-La. Nobody has a clue what that was all about.' "So Agent Y, his physical desires satisfied, goes back to Asuncion and tells his pal, Agent Z, what he heard in Montevideo. Agent Z then takes his R amp;R in Montevideo, where he asks Willy-or Tom, Dick, and Harry-'Tell me more about the six dead Ninjas and the UN guy.' "'Curiouser and curiouser,' he's told. 'Turns out the dead American was a drug dealer and Jack the Stack's brother-in-law. There's a very interesting rumor that a special operations team, probably run by the hotshot-he's an Army officer by the name of Costello; we found that out-whacked the Ninjas and maybe also the drug guy-his name was Lorimer-and then they jerked another FBI guy, Artigas, out of here. No explanation.'"
Susanna paused.
"End of scenario," she said after a moment.
"Good scenario," Castillo said.
"These are all bright, clever guys, Charley," she said. "Trained investigators."
"With diarrhea of the mouth," Castillo said.
"Nobody told them all this was Top Secret Presidential," Sieno said. "Call it shop talk."
"No excuse," Castillo said.
"It wasn't as if they were running off at the mouth in a bar," Delchamps said. "These guys were swapping gossip with people they knew had the same security clearances they did. Arguably, their sharing of such information could hold a kernel that would prove to be a missing piece of a puzzle they were working, one they otherwise would not have had…"
"That's not an excuse, Ed, and you know it," Castillo said.
"I didn't say it was right, Ace. I said I think it explains what happened. I think Susanna's right on the money. And it explains the young man with the titanium leg coming here. His pal got snatched and now he's desperate…"
"I didn't hear about that," Susanna said.
"What he said was his pal, a DEA agent, was snatched a week ago," Delchamps explained. "And, though he didn't say this, I'll bet nobody in Paraguay is doing anything at all to get him back that might annoy the host government in any way. So he came looking for John Wayne here."
"So the question then becomes 'What do we do about it?'"
"About getting the DEA guy back?" Delchamps asked.
"The DEA guy is not my problem," Castillo said.
"No, he's not," Delchamps said. "Write that down."
Castillo flashed him a cold look.
"Meaning what?"
"Meaning for a moment there, Ace, I thought you were starting to think you really are John Wayne, flitting around the world righting wrongs," Delchamps said.
"My primary concern is making sure this operation isn't compromised any more than it already is," Castillo said.
"How are you going to do that?"
"Well, first we're going to get out of here. There's no reason we can't move it to the Nebraska Avenue Complex. Or is there?"
Delchamps shook his head.
"The Sienos, Tony, and Alex Darby will be here. Plus Bob Howell in Montevideo," Delchamps said. "They can handle anything that comes up with regard to this…" He
gestured in the direction of the quincho.
Castillo nodded. Darby was the CIA station chief in Buenos Aires and Howell his counterpart in Montevideo.
"But what are you going to do about the guy downstairs?" Tony Santini asked. "You can't trust him to keep his mouth shut."
"Particularly since Charley's not going to rescue his pal from the bad guys," Susanna said.
"He goes with us," Castillo said. "Unless somebody's got a better idea?"
"Tony, who do you know in the embassy in Asuncion?" Delchamps asked.
"I've been up there, of course," Santini said. "But I don't have any pals there, if that's what you're asking."
"You're not alone," Susanna said.
Castillo and Delchamps looked at her. When she didn't respond, Delchamps asked, "Who's the station chief?"
"His name is White," Paul Sieno said. "Robert J. White."
Delchamps looked thoughtful a moment, then shook his head.
Susanna said: "He can't understand why someone like himself, who has kissed all the appropriate buttocks in Langley for years, gets assigned to Asuncion when troublemakers like Paul and Alex and me got to go to Buenos Aires."
"What about the military attache?" Castillo asked.
"He and the station chief are great pals," Santini said. "I don't think talking to them would work, Charley."
"And I don't want to go to the ambassador there, or involve Silvio any more than I already have," Castillo said, almost thoughtfully. "If this thing blows up in our faces, the less he knows the better."
Juan Manuel Silvio was the United States Ambassador to Argentina. He had put his career at risk to help Castillo to carry out the Presidential Finding.
"So?" Delchamps asked.
"So, I guess I have to go to the other ambassador."
The other ambassador was the Honorable Charles W. Montvale, the former deputy secretary of State, former secretary of the Treasury, and former ambassador to the European Union. And now the director of National Intelligence.
Castillo shook his head and said, "I now know how Lee felt at Appomattox Court House when he said, 'I would rather face a thousand deaths, but now I must go and treat with General Grant.'"
"Is he really that bad, Charley?" Susanna asked.
"Right now, Susie, I feel like a small white mouse about to be put into the cobra's cage," Castillo said.
He pushed himself away from the wall, walked to the bed, and gestured to Solez to give up his seat.
"You want some privacy, Ace?" Delchamps said.
"No. I want everybody to hear this," Castillo said, sat down on the bed, and punched the SPEAKER PHONE button on what looked like an ordinary telephone.
"Corporal Bradley speaking, sir," Lester's voice came over the speaker.
"Is the Local Secure LED lit, Lester?"
"Yes, sir."
"Get Major Miller on here, secure."
"Aye, aye, sir."
Ten seconds later, a male voice came very clearly over the speaker.
"And how are things down in Buenos Aires on this miserable, blistering, humid afternoon in our beloved nation's capital?"
"Verify secure," Bradley's voice piped.
"Ah, the pride of the Marine Corps! The little green light is glowing brightly, Lester."
"Colonel, the line is secure. I believe Major Miller is the party answering."
"Thank you, Bradley," Castillo said. "Hey, Dick!"
"A sus ordenes, mi coronel," Miller said.
"Get Agnes on an extension, and then patch me through secure to the White House."
"I don't like the tone of your voice," Miller said, seriously. "Hold one, Charley."
Twenty seconds later, a female voice announced, "White House."
"You on, Agnes?" Castillo asked.
"Uh-huh," Mrs. Agnes Forbison, the deputy chief for administration of the Office of Organizational Analysis, said.
"You and Dick stay on the line," Castillo said. "Don't record or take notes, but pay attention."
"Why do I think I know what you're going to say next?" Agnes Forbison asked.
"White House," the female operator repeated.
"You're prescient, Agnes," Castillo said, and then, "Operator, this is Colonel Castillo. Will you get me Ambassador Montvale on a secure line, please?"
"Hold one, Colonel. It may take a moment. He's in the mountains with the boss."
Oh, shit!
Ten seconds later, a male voice came on.
"Ambassador Montvale's line."
"Colonel Castillo for Ambassador Montvale," the White House operator said. "The line is secure."
"The ambassador is with the President. I'm not sure he can be disturbed."
"Is that Mr. Ellsworth?" Castillo asked.
Truman C. Ellsworth had risen high in government service as Ambassador Montvale's trusted deputy. He was not an admirer of Lieutenant Colonel Castillo, whom he viewed as a threat to Montvale.
"Good afternoon, Colonel," Ellsworth said in his somewhat nasal voice.
"I have to speak to the ambassador. Your call, Mr. Ellsworth, as to if he can be interrupted when he's with the President."
There was no reply, but in five seconds another male voice, one somewhat impatient, came over the speakers.
"Yes?"
Ellsworth, you sonofabitch!
"This is Castillo, Mr. President. Sorry to bother you, sir. I was trying to get the ambassador."
"My line rang," the President said, and then corrected himself. "Flashed. How are you, Charley?"
"Very well, thank you, sir."
"You're in Argentina, right?"
"Yes, sir."
"What kind of television do you get down there?"
"We've been watching Fox and Deutsche Welle, Mr. President."
"So you know what's going on in New Orleans and along the Gulf Coast?"
"Yes, sir."
"We're watching. Hard to believe, isn't it?"
Un-fucking-believable, sir.
"Yes, Mr. President, it is."
"I want to see you as soon as you get back up here, Charley. When is that going to be?"
"Probably late tomorrow, sir."
"Okay. I'll see you then. Unless I'm down there overseeing this disaster. You find me, either way."
"Yes, sir."
"Charles," Castillo heard the President say, "it's Charley for you."
Ambassador Montvale came on the line a moment later.
"Good to hear from you, Colonel," he said. "What can I do for you?"
"Buy Mr. Ellsworth a new pair of glasses."
"Excuse me?"
"I can think of no reason but fuzzy eyesight for his pushing the President's button when he knew I wanted to talk to you, can you?"
"I'm sure that it was inadvertent."
"Oh, me too," Castillo said, sarcastically. "I can't imagine him doing it on purpose, hoping it would cause the President to be annoyed with me. It just has to be his glasses."
"What can I do for you, Charley?" Montvale asked, his annoyance clear in his voice.
"There's a risk of compromise down here that I want to stop before it goes any further."
"At this late date?"
"Yes, sir."
"What needs to be done?"
"Two things. First, please call the station chief in Paraguay and tell him that Alex Darby is coming to see him and will speak with your authority."
"My authority about what?"
"To tell his people to stop guessing between them what happened in Uruguay and here, and stop talking about it, period."
"Should I call the ambassador there?"
"Let's leave him out of it, if we can."
"Your call. But forewarned is forearmed, as you know."
"And then call Fort Meade and have the DIA immediately transfer First Lieutenant Edmund Lorimer, an assistant military attache at the embassy in Asuncion, to OOA."
"What's that about?"
"He was clever enough to learn my name and find the safe house. I don't
want to leave him here."
"A troublemaker, in other words?"
"Mr. Ambassador, he's done nothing but what I would have done in his shoes."
"Why don't I find that comforting, do you suppose?"
Castillo ignored the response.
"We're shutting down here," Castillo went on, "just to be safe. We're just about finished here anyway. We ought to be in Washington sometime late tomorrow. I'm going to bring Lorimer with us."
"Come see me when you get here."
"Yes, sir. Of course."
"I'll get right on this."
"Thank you, sir."
Castillo waited until the White House operator, detecting that the telephone in Camp David had been hung up, asked, "Are you through, Colonel?"
"Break it down, please, thank you," Castillo said, and then, after a moment, "You heard that, Agnes? Dick?"
"Why do I think Mr. Ellsworth doesn't like you?" Agnes asked.
"With a little bit of luck, I can stop this before it gets any worse," Castillo said. "But I wanted you to have a heads-up if it goes wrong. I'll give you a call when we're a couple hours out of Baltimore. We're going to need three Yukons."
"They'll be there," Agnes said.
"Where do we live now, Dick?"
"I was about to call you about that," Miller said. "You know West Boulevard Drive in Alexandria?"
"Maybe. I think so."
"Agnes knows a real estate guy, and he put her onto a place at 7200 West Boulevard Drive. An old couple lived there, she died, and then a month later, three months ago, he did. Their kids didn't want it, and they want the money quick. They went through it and took out the valuable stuff, but what's left is nice."
"And the house?"
"You'll like everything about it but the price, boss," Agnes said.
"Which is how much? And why will I like it?"
"Right now you are renting it, furnished, for ten thousand a month, with an option to buy at $2,950,000 with the furniture, and I don't really know how much without."
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