He heard Munz's cellular buzz.
Munz said, "?Hola?" but then switched to German.
It soon became obvious that he was speaking with someone who was not overly impressed with Colonel Munz of SIDE, or more likely not impressed at all. His explanations that something had happened that had kept him from coming home as promised, and from at least calling, apparently were not falling on appreciative ears. The odds were that El Coronel Munz was speaking with Senora Munz.
He turned his attention back to Darby's gentle interrogation of Mrs. Masterson.
She didn't have much to tell him. From the time she was grabbed and felt what was the prick of a hypodermic needle in her buttocks, she remembered practically nothing until she had woken up in the taxicab sitting beside her dead husband.
She did not get a good look at her abductors; she didn't even know how many of them there had been. She had no idea where she had been taken. She could not describe the room in which she had been held.
Castillo had just had an uncomfortable thought, one that shamed him-Jesus, she's still probably full of that drug-when Munz spoke to him, in German.
"Why do I suspect you speak German, Herr Castillo?"
Castillo turned to look at him.
"While I was talking to my wife, in a thick Hessian accent, I saw your reflection on one of the monitors. You were smiling."
Why the hell is she lying? And to Darby, who is an old and close friend?
"Guilty," Castillo said, speaking German. "My mother was German. A Hessian, as a matter of fact."
And I've got to get an e-mail off to the Tages Zeitung, which I don't think I'll mention to Munz.
And I want to call Pevsner.
I should have gotten his phone number; all I have is Kennedy's cellular number.
Well, he can either give me the number or have Pevsner call me.
Maybe she's just scared. She has every right to be.
She must know that Darby's the resident spook, and that she is now safely in his hands.
"Really?" Munz said. "Where in Hesse was your mother from?"
Jesus, is he onto something? Has he connected me with Gossinger at the Four Seasons? Both Santini and Darby said SIDE is good.
"A little town called Bad Hersfeld."
"I know it. My father's family was from Giessen, and my wife's family from Kassel."
"How'd you wind up here?"
"I was born here. One day, maybe, I'll tell you how my mother and father got here. And my wife's parents."
"Okay."
She's not drugged. She's making decisions. She's lying.
Munz changed his mind.
"You ever hear of the Gehlen Organization?"
Castillo nodded. Immediately after World War II, a German general staff officer, Reinhardt Gehlen, who had been in charge of "Eastern Intelligence," had gone to the Americans and offered to turn over not only his files, but his entire intelligence network-which included, among other things of great intelligence value, in-place spies in the Soviet Army and in Moscow.
His price was that none of his officers be tried as Nazis, and that the Americans arrange to get their families out of Germany to somewhere safe-like South America, Argentina being preferred-with their husbands to join them later.
The deal was struck.
When Castillo had first heard the story, as a West Point cadet, he had been fascinated. He had wondered then who had made the decision to deal with Gehlen; it had to have been someone really senior. If the story had gotten out, there would have been a political eruption.
He had been trying ever since-and for years he had held security clearances that gave him access to a great deal of heavily classified files-to find out more. He hadn't learned much. The conclusion he had drawn, without any proof whatsoever, was that the decision to deal with Gehlen had been made by President Harry S Truman himself, probably at the recommendation of General Eisenhower, who at the time was commander in chief in Europe. Almost as soon as Roosevelt had died, and Truman had started dealing with the Soviet Union, he had recognized the Soviet threat. "My mother came here in 1946, and my father in 1950," Munz went on. "He became one of the few civilian instructors at the military academy. When he died several years ago, he was buried here quite close to a man named Hans von Langsdorff. That name ring a bell?"
"The Graf Spee captain," Castillo said.
Why is he telling me this?
To let me know he's one of the good guys?
Maybe Darby has him in his pocket, and he wants me to know?
Or maybe he wants me to think that he's muy simpatico, and I will thereafter regard him as a pal and tell him things I shouldn't.
Well, I don't have time to stay here and play games with him.
"When Mr. Darby comes out of there, would you ask him to give me a call? I don't see any point in hanging around here."
"Certainly," Munz said. [FIVE] Room 1550 The Four Seasons Hotel Cerrito 1433 Buenos Aires, Argentina 1035 23 July 2005 "Why don't we go in the bar and get you a cup of coffee while you're waiting for me?" Castillo said to the sergeant as they entered the hotel lobby.
"We're back to the ambassador saying I'm not supposed to let you out of my sight."
"I need thirty minutes out of your sight," Castillo said. "If you think you have to, Sergeant, call the ambassador and tell him I said that. Otherwise, your waiting in the bar will be our little secret."
"I would say, 'Yes, sir,' but you told me not to. Just don't take off on me, please? That would put my ass in a crack."
"I'll be down in thirty minutes, maybe a little less," Castillo said.
He walked the sergeant into the bar, got a bar tab, signed it-making sure the sergeant didn't see the Gossinger signature-and then rode the elevator to his room.
There was no fax press release from the embassy for Herr Gossinger waiting in his room; nor, when he called, was it waiting downstairs to be delivered. He wondered if Ms. Sylvia Grunblatt had overlooked sending it, or had intentionally not done so. Castillo knew that that didn't matter right now. He got out his laptop computer, and, working from his memory of the press release, wrote the story of the murdered diplomat, and then e-mailed it to Otto Goerner at the Tages Zeitung. He thought about calling him immediately, but decided that he might not read it right away, and that he would call him after he talked to Pevsner.
Alex Pevsner answered Kennedy's cellular on the second buzz.
"?Hola?"
"That you, Alex?"
"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 Washington."