The Outlaws_ A Presidential Agent Novel Part 41

First the bartender lifted an ice cube-not something spit out of an ice maker, but a real real ice cube, about an inch square-with his tongs and dropped it into the gla.s.s. Then he picked up another and wordlessly asked if his customer wanted a second ice cube. Montvale had stopped this process at three ice cubes, using a gesture he had learned playing blackjack. ice cube, about an inch square-with his tongs and dropped it into the gla.s.s. Then he picked up another and wordlessly asked if his customer wanted a second ice cube. Montvale had stopped this process at three ice cubes, using a gesture he had learned playing blackjack.

The bartender laid the tea strainer/shot gla.s.s on the whisky gla.s.s. Next, he picked up the bottle of whisky and with great elan filled the shot to overflowing. And then kept pouring. And then he tipped the wings of the shot gla.s.s, slowly emptying the contents into the gla.s.s over the ice cubes. Finally, with a silver gadget, he stirred the ice cubes gently around in the gla.s.s.

Montvale impatiently waved I. Ronald Spears over to the table.

"Mr. Amba.s.sador, there are two telephone calls for you at the emba.s.sy."

"Why didn't you transfer them here?" Montvale snapped.

Even as he did so, he knew what the answer was going to be, and was: "Mr. Amba.s.sador, they're on a secure line."

Montvale looked around first for the bartender, to cancel the order for the drink he would now not get to drink, and to sign the bill, and then for the Secret Service agents who were drinking c.o.ke and tonic water elsewhere in the bar.

The communications officer told them he had two calls, one from Supervisory Special Agent McGuire and the other from John Powell, the director of the Central Intelligence Agency.

"Get McGuire on here first," Montvale said as he picked up the secure telephone.

"I have Amba.s.sador Montvale on the line. The line is secure."

"Good evening, sir."

"What did you find out, Tom?"

"None of the people in whom you were interested were in the house in Alexandria, sir, but Mrs. Darby told me she believes Mr. Darby is in Ushuaia."

"Where?"

"I understand it's the southernmost city in Argentina."

"What is she doing, pulling your leg? What the h.e.l.l is he supposed to be doing there?"

"I understand from her-she seemed rather angry, sir-that he's in the company of a young Argentine woman. You take my meaning, sir?"

"You mean he's down there with some floozy?" Montvale asked incredulously.

"That's what Mrs. Darby implied, sir."

"And you believe her?"

"All I can say, sir, is that's what she told me. She seemed quite upset about it."

"You're keeping that house under surveillance, right, Tom?"

"There will be three agents on it twenty-four/seven, sir."

"Well, keep that up, and keep me informed."

"Yes, sir."

"Thanks, Tom."

"I have Amba.s.sador Montvale on the line, Mr. Powell. The line is secure."

"Hey, Jack, what's up?"

"A good deal. The Russians have been heard from. Sergei Murov-the rezident rezident-invited Frank Lammelle over to their dacha to go fis.h.i.+ng."

"In the middle of the winter?"

"And when he got there, told them what they want. They will give us all the Congo-X they have. With an implied promise they won't find any more. In exchange, they want the two defectors. And Charley Castillo."

"They say why?"

"Frank had the impression this came right from Putin. Frank said Murov told him, or implied, that not only has Putin's ego been bruised, but some of the people Castillo and his merry band have been whacking around the world were friends-maybe even relatives-of his."

"And you believe this?"

"Frank does. More importantly, President Clendennen does."

"Which means what?"

"That as soon as we find those two Russians Castillo s.n.a.t.c.hed from our station chief in Vienna, we put them on the next Aeroflot to Moscow."

"Did Frank tell Murov we don't have the two Russians?"

"He did. Murov didn't believe him. Anyway, that's moot. My orders are to find the Russians so that we can turn them over."

"Clendennen's going to stand still for that blackmail?"

"I'll say it again, Charles: My orders are to find the Russians so that we can turn them over."

"And Castillo? He's going to turn him over, too?"

"I didn't hear that, because you didn't ask it. But a moment ago, I should have said that my orders are to find the Russians and Lieutenant Colonel Castillo, Retired."

"And do what with Castillo when we find him?"

"The President did not share his thoughts on that with me, Mr. Amba.s.sador."

"Jesus Christ!"

"Yeah. So how you doing? Have you found Castillo?"

"No, but I learned that Alex Darby's in Ushuaia-that's at the southern tip of South America-with some young floozy."

"Darby's doing what?"

"I'm afraid the source is reliable."

"Have you talked to him?"

"I found that out about five minutes ago."

"That might be a good place to stash those Russians."

"That thought occurred to me about ten seconds ago."

"There will be six officers-the most I could scare up on short notice meeting the criteria of reliable and available-on whatever American Airlines flight there is today from Dallas to Buenos Aires, one most likely landing in Argentina in the wee hours of tomorrow morning."

"What the h.e.l.l is that all about?"

"The President ordered me to send however many men it took to locate and detain the Russians. Shortly, they're on their way there."

"If they should find them, and that's a big if, what are they going to do, kidnap them? The Argentines won't stand for that. No country would."

"This line is terrible. I don't think you heard me when I said, 'The President ordered me to send however many men it took to locate and detain the Russians.'"

"Jesus Christ!"

"Have you found Roscoe J. Danton? More important, have you learned (a) why he's looking for Castillo, and (b) whether he's found him?"

"I'm going to see him tomorrow. After I see the amba.s.sador. I don't know what I'm going to tell him about these people you're sending down here."

"You'll think of something. That's why they pay you the big bucks, Charles."

"f.u.c.k you," Montvale said, and then said, "Break it down."

Truman Ellsworth, Mizz Sylvia Grunblatt, I. Ronald Spears, one of his Secret Service agents, and a middle-aged man he did not recognize were waiting for him in the hall outside the communications cubicle.

"Amba.s.sador Montvale," the man said, "I'm Robert Lowe."

When Montvale didn't immediately reply, Lowe added: "From Mexico City."

And you were ordered down here, what? A week ago?

You should have been here the next day.

Where the h.e.l.l have you been? In one of those hotels on the white sandy beaches of Cancun or Cozumel, saying a tearful goodbye to your twenty-year-old tootsie?

"I'm really glad to see you, Lowe," Montvale said. "We have a situation here that requires someone of your experience, and I might add, of your reputation."

"I'm here to serve, sir."

"I just got off the horn with the DCI," Montvale said. "He tells me there will be six very good officers of the Clandestine Service on the next American Airlines flight from Dallas to help deal with the problem."

"Which is?"

"I can't get into that here." He turned to Sylvia Grunblatt. "Nothing personal, Mizz Grunblatt, but I'm afraid you don't have the need-to-know."

"Mr. Montvale, in Amba.s.sador Silvio's absence, I am acting for him." She lost her diplomatic cool at that moment, and added: "That makes me, as I'm sure you know, the senior officer of the United States in Argentina."

Jesus, now the G.o.dd.a.m.ned press agent is going to give me trouble?

"What you say may well be true, Mizz Grunblatt, but I have only your word for it. On the other hand, I have been-and Mr. Ellsworth has been-sent down here by the President of the United States personally, and until the President tells me otherwise, I'm not going to breach security. Do we understand one another?"

"I think we'll let Amba.s.sador Silvio decide who's right," Grunblatt said.

"I'm looking forward to that," Montvale said. "What I need from you now, Mizz Grunblatt, is a vehicle to pick up these agency people in the morning."

"Can't help you," she said. "For one thing, I told you there are no free vehicles; the amba.s.sador needed everything in the garage. And, now that I think about it, inasmuch as I presume these six spooks are traveling as tourists, rather than government employees-much less accredited diplomatic personnel-I couldn't order the use of government vehicles if I wanted to."

"I'll look forward to seeing you in the morning when I call on the amba.s.sador, Miss Grunblatt," Montvale said. "Where are you staying, Mr. Lowe?"

Sylvia Grunblatt answered for him: "I'm going to put him in the apartment recently vacated by the Darbys."

"You can move in there tomorrow," Montvale said. "We need to talk. I'll put you up in the Alvear Plaza with us. Let's go, gentlemen."

The manager on duty at the Alvear was the epitome of courtesy and regret, but there wasn't an available room of any type in the house. He could, however, remove the king-size bed in either Mr. Montvale's suite or Mr. Ellworth's, and replace it with two single beds.

"Put them in Mr. Ellsworth's suite," Montvale ordered, and turned to Ellsworth. "It's only for one night, Truman."

An otherwise marvelous dinner in the Alvear Palace's La Bourgogne restaurant was tainted midway by the appearance of the manager on duty. He was profusely sorry to report that the single beds he had planned to put in Mr. Ellsworth's accommodation had already been put into service. He had found another king-size bed, but regrettably, there was not room for it in Mr. Ellsworth's room.

"Would Mr. Montvale possibly consider having it placed in his room?"

"It's only for one night, Charles," Truman Ellsworth said, dripping with compa.s.sion.