"Who?"
"Jean-Paul Lorimer."
"I thought they couldn't find him in Paris. What's he got to do with this? He's here?"
"I think so. Somewhere here in the Southern Cone. What he has to do with it is that he was the bagman for Oil for Food. Not only did he skim a large sum-sixteen million, according to one source-from the bribe money, but he knows who got how much, when, and what for. That's what the whole thing was about. The people who want his mouth permanently closed-and their money back-really want to find him."
"That sounds pretty far-fetched, Charley. Lorimer-I told you I met him-is a typical UN bureaucrat. I can't imagine him being involved in something like that. Where'd you get it?"
"I got the fact that people are looking for him from Mrs. Masterson. They kidnapped her because they thought she would know where he is. I think they believed her when she said she didn't. But they think he'll contact her. They told her that they'll kill her children if she does find out where he is and doesn't tell them. Masterson was blown away to make the point that they will kill to get what they want."
"You got that from Betsy Masterson?"
Castillo nodded.
"Why didn't she tell me?"
"She didn't tell me until we landed in the States. Her primary concern was protecting the children, and God knows she had reason not to feel secure in Argentina. I guess when she saw the Globemaster surrounded by Delta Force shooters she felt secure enough to tell me."
"Does she know why these people are looking for Lorimer?"
"If you mean, did she know he was the oil-for-food bagman, I don't think so. If she knew, she would have told her husband, and I don't think there's any question that Masterson would have blown the whistle on him."
"And he would have," Darby said. "So how are you going to find Lorimer?"
"I don't know. But the first thing I have to do is talk to Yung."
"The FBI guy in Montevideo? What's he got to do with this?"
"I don't know. But I do know he's not looking for money laundering, as he says he is…"
"How do you know that?" Darby challenged.
"… and that he's working for the State Department, not the FBI."
"I don't understand that."
"Neither do I, but I got that from Natalie Cohen. Who has told Ambassador Silvio and Ambassador Whatsisname in Montevideo…"
"McGrory," Darby furnished.
"… to tell him to, quote, put himself and whatever intelligence he has developed, end quote, at my disposal."
"She didn't tell you what he's doing?"
"She's in Singapore-or was-and believe it or not the secure voice links in both her airplane and the embassy were fucked up."
"You want to try to talk to her from the embassy?"
"What I want to do is talk to Yung."
"Here or in Montevideo?"
"Montevideo is where his files are going to be," Castillo said. "I want a look at them. How's the best way to get to Montevideo?"
"Starting about now, there's Austral flights from Jorge Newbery every hour or so. You want me to go with you?"
"What I'd like for you to do is show Lorimer's picture to everybody in the embassy-your people, the DEA, the military people-and see if it rings a bell. Don't tell them why we're looking."
"You have a picture?"
The CIA guy in Paris gave me two. I have them in my briefcase," Castillo said. "If I give you one, can you get me twenty copies of it?"
"No problem," Darby said.
"Do you have a safe house?"
"A safe apartment not far from here, and a safe house in Mayerling. That's a country club out in Pilar."
"Mayerling?" Castillo asked.
"Yeah. Mayerling. Upscale gated community where the guards at the gate have Uzis."
"Mayerling?" Castillo repeated.
"Is there something I don't know, Charley?" Darby asked.
"My mind is flying off at a tangent," Castillo said. "Let's suppose you're an Austrian, and you have some money you're not supposed to have from Oil for Food, and you manage to get the money laundered here in Argentina, and you're looking for an investment-"
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"I've got an envelope in my briefcase stuffed with names of Germans and Austrians who have-what's the phrase?-'ill-gotten gains' from Oil for Food that they've moved here."
"Really?"
"Yeah, really."
"Are you going to give it to me?"
"No. Sorry. I gave my word as an officer and a gentleman that I wouldn't give it to anybody in the CIA or other agency of the U.S. government.
"Now, let me finish what I was saying: So you're an Austrian and looking for a sound investment for your now thoroughly washed ill-gotten gains. Where to put it? Eureka! I know. Real estate. I will build an upscale country club and sell expensive houses to rich people wanting to escape crowded Buenos Aires. All I need is a romantic name, with overtones of aristocratic class. So what will I call it? Mayerling! That's what I'll call it, Mayerling! Ain't nothing no more classic than Mayerling! I'll have everybody in Argentina who traces his ancestry back to the glorious days of Franz Josef and the Austro-Hungarian empire standing in line to throw money at me so they can say, 'I live in Mayerling.'"
"What the hell are you talking about? What the hell is Mayerling?"
"Alex, for someone in your line of work, your ignorance of history is shocking," Castillo said solemnly. "You don't know about Mayerling?"
"No, goddammit, I don't."
"Once upon a time-in 1889-one version has it, Crown Prince Rudolph, who would on the death of his father, Franz Josef, become king and emperor of the Austro-Hungarian empire, was called in by Daddy and told to divest himself of his mistress.
"Crown Prince Rudolph was thirty-one. His mistress was a sixteen-year-old tootsie, the Baroness Maria Vet-sera. The relationship was embarrassing to the throne and had to be ended, Daddy said.
"Rudolph took Maria to his hunting lodge, which was called Mayerling, to break the bad news to her. After talking it over, they decided that since (a) Rudolph could not disobey his father the emperor and (b) that life was not worth living without each other, there was only one solution, and they took it. Rudolph popped Maria with his Steyr automatic and then popped himself in the temple.
"He was given a state funeral, and the entire Austro-Hungarian empire went into an official state of mourning. Maria's body was sent back to her village.
"The other version, according to Otto Goerner, who got it from my aunt Olga-she was actually my grandaunt-who was Hungarian and moved in high social circles, was that Franz Josef really didn't give a damn who Rudolph was diddling-ol' Franz Josef's own mistress lived with him in Schonbrunn palace-but was really annoyed when he found out that Rudy was in serious conversations with some Hungarians vis-a-vis what we now call regime change. Rudy wanted to be king and emperor now, not when the old guy finally kicked off.
"According to that version, Franz Josef had Rudolph popped while he was fooling around with Maria in his hunting lodge, which, if I didn't happen to mention this before, was called Mayerling.
"The result of Rudy's sudden demise at Mayerling was that his cousin, Franz Josef's nephew, Archduke Franz Ferdinand, became heir to the throne. On 28 June 1914, in Sarajevo, a Serbian anarchist tossed a bomb into his car, mortally wounding poor Franz Ferdinand.
"Franz Josef simply couldn't put up with having his heir whacked, so he declared war on Serbia, and World War One was off and running. And it all started in Mayerling. I'm really surprised you didn't know this, Alex."
"Jesus, Charley, you're amazing," Darby said. "You're not really suggesting there's a connection with this country club and oil-for-food money?"
"Far be it from me to suggest anything to an old spook like you, Alex, but if I were in your shoes, I'd have a good close look at it. Truth is stranger than fiction. There's a reason they call your country club Mayerling. And you are looking for foreign-laundered money, right?"