The Hostage Part 25

"I heard what happened about thirty minutes ago. I thought you would call, and I knew you didn't have the number here, so I asked Howard for his cellular. I should have given the number to you. How is Mrs. Masterson?"

"You heard about that, too?" Castillo replied, and then went on without waiting for an answer. "They doped her-bupivacaine, I'm told-and she doesn't seem to remember much of what happened."

"But she'll be all right?"

"I think so. Yes."

"Anna was concerned."

"I don't suppose you've heard anything?"

"My source-and he's close to a man named Munz, who is the power at SIDE-tells me he doesn't think this is a kidnapping for ransom."

"He say what he thinks it is?"

"He doesn't have any idea, and neither, apparently, does Colonel Munz. If I hear anything, I'll let you know. Is it all right if I call your cellular number?"

"Of course."

"Let me give you the numbers here," Pevsner said, and did so.

"Goerner."

"Did you get my Masterson story?"

"I'm fine, Karl. And how are you? I've been a little concerned."

"About what?"

"I got your story. Very interesting. So far, there's nothing on the wires or CNN."

"There will be shortly."

"I'm impressed with your-what do they say in the States? Your 'scoop.'"

"Well, I try to earn my keep."

"I hope you haven't had time to work on the oil-for-food scandal I mentioned."

"I haven't. Why do you ask?"

"I got a story from our guy in Vienna yesterday. I would have called to tell you about it, but, as usual, I didn't know where to find you. If you check your e-mail, you'll find a rather anxious message from me. There's also a rather pointed message on your voice mail at the Mayflower in Was.h.i.+ngton."

"What sort of a story?"

"The Vienna police were called to an apartment on the Cobenzlga.s.se to investigate a terrible odor. It came from the decomposing corpse-he'd apparently been dead for ten days or so-of a Lebanese man named Henri Douchon."

A mental image of the Cobenzlga.s.se, the cobblestone street in Grinzing leading up the hill to the Vienna Woods, popped into Castillo's mind. He had met Alex Pevsner for the first time at the top of the hill.

"Who's he?"

"From what I've been told, he was a middleman, a very important middleman, in the oil-for-food arrangement; the illegal part."

"What's that got to do with me?"

"According to my man, before they cut Herr Douchon's throat-almost decapitating him-they pulled several of his fingernails out, and several of his teeth. He was strapped into a chair."

"Jesus!"

"I don't want anyone pulling your teeth out with a pair of pliers, Karlchen, much less cutting your throat. I want you to forget everything I told you about there possibly being an Argentine connection."

"That cow is out of the barn, Otto."

"If I had known how to reach you yesterday, I was going to tell you not to make inquiries, discreet or otherwise, about Oil for Food, moving money to Argentina, or anything remotely connected with either."

"Not to worry, I won't have time now. I'm on the kidnapping story."

"Yes, I'm sure you are," Goerner said.

That was a not-very-well-veiled reference to what he knows I do for a living.

"One of the reasons I called was to ask what-off the top of your head-you think might entice someone to kidnap a diplomat's wife?"

"When I gave your story to the foreign news editor- it will run in all the papers, with your byline and photograph-he asked me, 'Isn't Masterson that football player who got seventy-five million dollars after he was run over by a coal truck?'"

"Basketball, sixty million, and a beer truck," Castillo said.

"That wasn't in your story, Karlchen," Goerner said. "We're going to see if the AP or CNN or BBC mentions it. Then we'll either quote them in our wrap-up, or run it as a sidebar."

Why the h.e.l.l didn't I mention it? I was writing a news story, not an emba.s.sy press release.

Because you are not a bona fide journalist, that's why.

"It should have been in the story," Castillo said.

"What did you say, sixty million? That would inspire a kidnapper, I'm sure."

"One of my sources, a good one"-you know who he is, Otto. Alex Pevsner-"just told me there is some doubt in the minds of the senior cops here-they're called SIDE, sort of a combined CIA and FBI-that the abduction and the murder had anything to do with collecting a ransom."

"Even more reason that you not ask penetrating questions when you are far from home. There are some very unpleasant people in the world, Karlchen. People who are willing to attract all the attention that kidnapping an American diplomat's wife, and then killing the diplomat, would bring to them would not hesitate before killing a journalist from a not very important German newspaper if they thought he was asking impertinent questions."

"Hey, I'm a big boy, Otto."

"Who has always been too big for his pants," Goerner said. "There was something else I found missing in your story, Karl. What happens now?"

"I don't know what you mean."

" 'Amba.s.sador Joe Blow said the remains of Masterson will be flown to the United States for burial in Arlington National Cemetery.' Something like that."

"I don't know, Otto. But I'll find out and send it to you."

"Your editor would like you, if possible, to accompany the remains to the United States, and provide the full story of the funeral."

"I'm not sure that will be possible."

"I'm not sure you would go if it was possible. But I am a foolish old man who worries about the G.o.dfather of his children, and thought I should ask."

"Otto . . ."

"Hold it a minute," Goerner said, and a moment later, "It just came in on Agence France Press," he said. "They say seventy million and baseball player."

"Trust me, it's sixty million and basketball."

Castillo's cellular buzzed.

"My cellular just went off. I have to go, Otto. I'll keep you up to speed."

"After you give me that cellular number and where you're staying," Goerner said.

"Hold one," Castillo said to the cellular, then gave Otto the cellular number and his room number in the Four Seasons.

"Please, Karlchen, be very careful," Otto said.

"I will. Thanks, Otto."

"Auf wiedersehen, Karlchen." Karlchen."

"Sorry," Castillo said into the cellular. "I was on the other line."

"How long will it take you to get to a secure line, Charley?" the secretary of Homeland Security asked.

"Ten, fifteen minutes."

"The sooner the better," Hall said. "I'll be waiting. He's gone ballistic."

The line went dead.

Castillo had no doubt that he who had gone ballistic was the President of the United States.

VI.

[ONE].

Communications Center The United States Emba.s.sy Avenida Colombia 4300 Palermo, Buenos Aires, Argentina 1100 23 July 2005

The slender, trim man sitting behind the desk rose when Castillo walked in. The man was wearing a suit and a crisp white s.h.i.+rt, but there was something about him- carriage, short haircut, att.i.tude-that made Charley sure he was a soldier.

"Mr. Castillo?"

"Right. I need a secure line to the White House. It's been cleared."

"Sir, the amba.s.sador left word that if you came in, he wanted to see you right away."

s.h.i.+t!

This situation wasn't covered in Obeying Orders 101 at The Point. The rule there was simple: you obey your last lawful order. My last order was to get on the horn as quickly as possible. And technically, Amba.s.sador Silvio can't even legally issue me orders.

Or can he? He's the amba.s.sador extraordinary and plenipotentiary of the President of the United States.

And Major C. G. Castillo is not about to tell Amba.s.sador Silvio, in his emba.s.sy, that I don't have time for him right now, but I will try to fit him into my busy schedule just as soon as I can.

"Thank you," Castillo said, and headed for the amba.s.sador's office.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Castillo asked, when Silvio's secretary ushered him into the amba.s.sador's office.

"Yes, I did. Thank you for coming so quickly. I just wanted to tell you that the security staff has been alerted and are holding themselves ready for your instructions."

What the h.e.l.l is he talking about?

"Sir?"

"You don't have any idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

"No, sir. I don't."

"I thought you might not. May I ask what you're doing in the emba.s.sy?"

"Sir, I got word to get on a secure line to my boss . . . to Secretary Hall . . . as quickly as possible."

"I just had a very interesting conversation with my boss, as a matter of fact. Well, why don't you speak with your boss, and when you're finished, we can compare notes, so to speak."

"Sir, I have the uncomfortable feeling that I've done something to displease you."

"I'm displeased, frankly, but it's nothing you've done, Mr. Castillo," Silvio said. "In a manner of speaking, I would say that you and I are leaves being blown about by the winds of a storm."

Charley couldn't think of anything to say.

"Why don't you speak with Secretary Hall? And then come see me?" Silvio said.

"Yes, sir."