"I'm shocked," Castillo said.
"There is corruption here, of course. And crime. The newspapers are full of stories of robbery and kidnapping. The result of that has been the development of what I call the country club culture. The upper classes live in places like this, and when they go to Buenos Aires, they frequently are accompanied by bodyguards-called 'security'-which raises no eyebrows whatever."
"I saw the guy in the golf cart with the shotgun," Castillo said.
"I have a few of my own people, of course, but most of my security is Argentine. There is golf here… Do you play, Charley?"
Castillo shook his head.
"And polo. I don't play, but Aleksandr and Sergei are taking lessons, and Anna and Elena are taking courses in horse riding… what's that called?"
"Equestrianism," Anna furnished.
"… equestrianism at the stables here. And, of course, the schools are good. The better ones, like Saint Agnes in the Hills, are a British legacy."
"Your kids go to a school called 'Saint Agnes in the Hills'?" Castillo asked, smiling.
Pevsner smiled back. "Which has an Anglican priest for a headmaster. There being no Russian Orthodox church to speak of in Argentina, and since the Anglicans and the Russian Orthodox recognize each other's priesthood and liturgy, Elena was last year confirmed into the Anglican church."
"Well, you seem to have everything under control, Alex," Castillo said. "Good for you."
"I thought so, Charley, until Howard came here this morning and asked me, 'Guess who got onto my elevator in the Four Seasons just now?'"
"At the risk of repeating myself, I had no idea until today that either you or Howard had ever been near Argentina. And if you're worried that I'm going to tell anyone we bumped into each other, don't."
"You said something about a kidnapping?"
"The wife of the chief of mission at the American embassy is missing under circumstances that suggest kidnapping," Castillo said.
"Kidnapping is common here," Pevsner said. "Didn't she have security?"
"Why would anyone kidnap a diplomat's wife?" Anna asked. "Does he have money?"
"A lot of money," Charley said.
"I didn't see anything in the paper," Pevsner said, as he leaned forward to pour wine into Charley's glass.
"They're trying to keep it quiet. They hope that maybe when the kidnappers find out she's a diplomat's wife, they'll turn her loose."
"That's not what they're liable to do," Pevsner said. "I can make a couple of calls for you, if you'd like."
"All contributions gratefully received," Castillo said. "So far there's been no contact. I really feel sorry for the husband. They have three kids, and they want to know when Mother's coming home."
"Oh, God!" Anna said. "How awful!"
"Yeah," Castillo said.
"Where did they take her?" Anna asked. "Not from their home?"
"From the parking lot of the Kansas restaurant in San Isidro."
"Alex and I eat there often," Anna said, then, a touch of horror in her voice: "Not right in front of her children?"
Castillo shook his head. "She was waiting for her husband to pick her up after work. The kids were at home."
"And the President sent you down here to do what?" Pevsner asked.
"Find out what happened and report to him."
"Speaking of the President, and before I make those calls, did you ever have a chance to mention to him that I was helpful in getting that airplane back for you?"
"Yes, I did." The President's diary for that weekend read, in part: Friday 17 June 2005 7:55 PM: Arrival at President's Residence. Saturday 18 June 2005 through Sunday 19 June 2005 8:25 PM: No official events or guests or visitors. Sunday 19 June 2005 8:25 PM: Departure for The White House.
That was not exactly the truth. The President believed both that what he did in the privacy of his home was nobody's business but his own, and furthermore, that he had the right to decree what was an official event and what was not.
The diaries of the secretary of Homeland Security, the director of Central Intelligence, the director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, and the commander in chief of U.S. Central Command for the same period, however, all reported they had spent periods of from two to five hours on Saturday 18 June at a location variously described as the "Carolina White House"; the "Presidential Residence"; or "Hilton Head."
All but Secretary Hall of Homeland Security were sitting in upholstered white wicker armchairs drinking beer with the President when the first of the helicopters, a glistening blue twin-engine Air Force Huey, made its approach to the lawn between the house and the Atlantic Ocean and fluttered down.
John Powell, the DCI, and Mark Schmidt, the director of the FBI, were in business suits, and General Allan Naylor, C-in-C Central Command, was in uniform. The Presidentwas wearing a white shirt with the cuffs turned up, a necktie pulled down, khaki trousers, and loafers.
An Air Force colonel in a summer-weight uniform got out of the helicopter, reached back inside to pick up a small soft-sided suitcase, and then followed one of the Secret Service Presidential Detail agents to the awning-shaded verandah of the house.
The President shook the hand of Colonel Jacob D. Torine, USAF, then handed him a bottle of beer. Then they watched as another Huey-this one a single-engine Army helicopter painted a dull olive drab-made its approach over the sea and landed.
A large man in a business suit and an Army officer, a major in a summer-weight uniform, got out and followed another Secret Service agent to the verandah.
"Better late than never, right, Tom?" the President greeted Secretary Hall.
"Mr. President, we're ten minutes early," Hall said.
"How are you, Charley?" the President said to Major (Promotable) C. G. Castillo, Special Forces, USA, offering him his hand.
"Good afternoon, Mr. President," Castillo said.
"Well, let's get this over with," the President said. "Then you two can get out of those uniforms."
He turned to look at a door of the house. Three men were already coming onto the verandah. One held two blue leather-covered boxes about eight inches by three. The second held a Nikon digital camera, and the third a suit jacket.
The President folded down his cuffs, buttoned them, buttoned his collar, pulled the necktie into place, and then put his arms into the suit jacket.
"Do not get the khaki pants in the picture," the President said to the photographer, then asked, "Where do you want us?"
"Against the wall would be fine, Mr. President."
"You're about to be decorated," the President said. "You've heard I've had a problem with this?"
"Yes, sir," Torine and Castillo said, almost in chorus.
"Well, let me tell the story again, for the benefit of Director Schmidt and Director Powell. There is no question in my mind that what these two officers did merits a higher decoration than the Distinguished Flying Cross. When they found that 727 that no one else seemed to be able to find, and then stole it back, they saved the lives of God only knows how many people, and prevented chaos and panic in Philadelphia and across the nation. Not quite as important, but nearly so, they sent a message to like-minded lunatics that the United States possesses military force and intelligence resources that can stop what we have to admit was a pretty clever plan.
"Unfortunately, to award them a medal for valor-my initial thought was the Distinguished Service Cross-there has to be a citation to accompany the decoration. Since their activities were of a covert nature, acting on a Presidential Finding that certain actions were necessary, a citation describing what they have done would make that Presidential Finding public. That's not in the best interests of the nation. General Naylor pointed out to me, too, that a citation saying nothing more specific than 'actions of a classified and covert nature' would come to the attention of one or more Congressional oversight committees who would demand to know just what the hell was going on. The result would be the same. The story would be all over the Washington Post and the New York Times.