Ms. Grunblatt considered that for about fifteen seconds.
"Okay. And what else?"
"Sylvia, I learned from you that when all else fails, tell the truth."
"And the truth is?"
"All we know is that Mrs. Masterson disappeared undercircumstances that suggested she had been kidnapped, and that Mr. Masterson was murdered, probably by the abductors, as she was left in the taxicab with him."
"Okay," she said. "I'll get right on it."
"It will take him, say, fifteen minutes to get here."
"You'll have it, Mr. Ambassador."
"I'd like a look at what Miss Grunblatt comes up with, please," Castillo said.
That earned him a frosty glance. She said, "It's Mizz Grunblatt, Mr. Costello."
"It's Castillo, Mizz Grunblatt."
"You think you might wish to add something, Mr. Castillo?" Silvio asked.
"Oh, no, sir. I'd just like to know what we're saying."
"Am I allowed to ask who Mr. Castillo is?" she asked.
"He works for the President, Sylvia, which means we tell him anything he wants to know."
"Is that for dissemination?" she asked.
"Absolutely not," Castillo said.
She held up both hands, palms out, to indicate that that information could not be torn from her under any conditions.
He smiled at her.
"Do you kill people who look over your shoulder while you work?" Castillo asked.
"Only if they're looking down my dress," Ms. Grunblatt said. "You that hot to see what I come up with?"
"I'd like to see it before I go to the German Hospital," he said.
"Sure, why not?" she said.
"I'll see that you have a car and driver, Mr. Castillo," the ambassador said.
"I can take a taxi, sir."
"Indulge me," the ambassador said.
"Thank you, sir." [THREE] "So what do you think?" Ms. Grunblatt asked.
"I think it's just what the ambassador wants," Castillo replied. "Who gets this?"
"Once the boss approves it, I'll e-mail it first to the Herald-that's the English-language paper here-and then AP, then the New York Times. Then I'll call them to let them know I sent it. After that, everybody else-the local media."
"Fax one to a man named Karl Gossinger at the Four Seasons."
"Who is he?"
"He works for a German newspaper called the Tages Zeitung."
And he will shamelessly paraphrase your very well-written yarn and send it off as his own.
She looked at him curiously but said only, "Consider it done."
The door to her office opened and a large and muscular young man in civilian clothing came in. His tweed jacket didn't do much to conceal the large revolver on his belt. Castillo was sure he was one of the Marine guards.
"Mr. Castillo?"
"Right."
"Sir, I've got your car anytime you're ready to go."
"I'm ready," Castillo said. He looked at Ms. Grunblatt. "Thanks."
"If you find out anything over there, you'll keep it to yourself, right?"
"You will be the second to know." The Marine led him to an embassy BMW in the embassy basement and held the rear door open for him.
"Would it be all right with you if I rode up front?" Castillo asked.
"Yes, sir. Whatever you want, sir."
Castillo walked around the front of the car and pulled the passenger door open. There was a leather toilet kit on the seat.
"There's a toilet kit on the seat," Castillo announced. "Yours?"
"No, sir. That's for you, sir."
"The ambassador thought I needed a shave?"
"It's a weapon, sir. A pistol."
"Really?"
Castillo unzipped the bag. It held a GI 9mm Beretta semiautomatic pistol.
That was a damned nice thing for Silvio to do for me.
Castillo took the pistol from the bag and pressed the magazine release button. The magazine did not slip out. He looked. There was no magazine.
"Sir, that's a Beretta Model 92 semiautomatic pistol, caliber nine millimeter."
"I'll be damned."
"Yes, sir. It will fire fifteen rounds just as fast as you can pull the trigger."
"This one won't."
"Sir?"
"There's no whatchacallems? 'Bullets'?"
"Sir, the cartridges are held in a magazine."
He held up a full magazine for Castillo's edification, and only then began to understand his chain was being pulled.
"What is it, 'Sergeant'?" Castillo asked, reaching for the magazine.
"Staff Sergeant, sir."
He more than reluctantly let go of the magazine. Castillo took it, checked to see there was no round chambered in the pistol, and then slid the magazine into its place in the handle.
"I don't want this to get any further than it has to, Sergeant, which means that was the last time you call me 'sir,' but the cold and unvarnished truth is that I'm a soldier."
"Sir, the ambassador didn't say anything-"
"What part of don't-call-me-'sir' didn't you understand?"
"Sorry, s-"
"I don't think the ambassador knows I'm a soldier. Actually-the reason I can give you orders-I'm a major."
"Yes, s-" the sergeant said, and then, "Major, it comes automatically. I say 'sir' to civilians all the time."
"Well, try not to say it to me, okay?"
"Yes, sir. Oh, shit."
"I'm sorry I brought the subject up," Castillo said, chuckling. "Let's go, Sergeant." [FOUR] Room 677 The German Hospital Avenida Pueyrredon Buenos Aires, Argentina 0940 23 July 2005 There were half a dozen uniformed Policia Federal in the lobby of the hospital, and when Castillo asked for Mrs. Masterson, one of them, a sergeant, walked up to him somewhat menacingly.
"Senor," he began.
A tall, well-dressed man walked up.
"Senor Castillo?"
Charley nodded.
"Come with me, please, senor."
"Get yourself a cup of coffee," Castillo said to the Marine.
"The ambassador said I'm not to let you out of my sight."
"Good, no 'sir,'" Charley said. "Tell the ambassador I was difficult. Not to worry."
Almost biting his lip not to say "sir," the Marine said, "I'll be right here."
The tall man waved Castillo onto an elevator, nodding at another well-dressed man already on it as they entered. The man pushed the button for the sixth floor.
There was a sign saying Seimens had built the elevator.
And the lobby was spotless, waxed, and shiny. And that RAUCHEN VERBOTEN! sign in black and red!
When they say "German Hospital," they mean German hospital.
When the door opened, Castillo saw more uniformed police and several other well-dressed men who he decided were almost certainly SIDE agents.
The tall man led him down a corridor to a door, opened it, and waved Castillo in.
Colonel Munz was in the room, which was some sort of monitoring center. There was a row of television sets-all of German manufacture-on the wall.
"I thought it would be best if Senor Darby and Senor Lowery spoke with Mrs. Masterson," Munz greeted him, "as I don't think she feels kindly about anything Argentine right now."
He dismissed the tall man with a wave of his hand, and then pointed to the television monitors. On two of them Castillo could see Mrs. Masterson. She was in a hospital gown, sitting up in a bed. Lowery was on one side of her and Darby on the other. Something from a limp plastic bottle was dripping into her arm. He could hear Darby talking to her, but he couldn't make out what he was saying.
"How long has she been out of it?" Castillo asked.
"About ten minutes," Munz replied. "They found a drug in her blood. They're giving her something to neutralize it. It's obviously working."
"I can't hear what they're saying."
Munz walked to one of the monitors and increased the volume.
Darby was assuring her that the children were all right, that they were under the protection of both Argentine police and security people from the embassy.
Castillo got the feeling that Darby was repeating his assurances, meaning she had not yet completely come out from under the effects of the narcotic.