Torine nodded his understanding.
"So what happens now?" he asked.
"We get her and the children out of Argentina just as soon as we can get her on your airplane. Have you got approach charts for Keesler Air Force Base?"
"Of course. Why Keesler?"
"Mrs. Masterson wants him buried in Mississippi. That's where he's from. The Mississippi Gulf Coast."
"General Naylor told me the President wants Mr. Masterson buried in Arlington."
"It's her call, isn't it?"
"Obviously. When do you think she'll be ready to leave?"
"I think-think, don't know-that they're going to release her from the hospital this morning. If I had my way, she'd go directly from the hospital to the airport. But I doubt that's going to happen. Maybe late tonight, which would put us into Keesler in the morning. But probably sometime tomorrow."
"The defense attache told me the Argentines want to put the casket in the Catedral Metropolitana, so they can pay their respects," Torine said. "What's that?"
"I hadn't heard that," Castillo replied. "And I have no idea."
"It's like their national cathedral," Sergeant Roger Markham furnished. "Not far from the Casa Rosada, which is like their White House. Except it's pink. The Casa Rosada, I mean. The cathedral looks like what the Parthenon must have looked like before it fell down. Marble, I think."
"The Marines to the rescue," Castillo said. "Keep going, Roger."
"Well, it's their big-time church. San Martin-that general they call 'the Great Liberator'? He was a pal of Thomas Jefferson. Avenida Libertador is really named after him, like if we named Washington Square 'Father of Our Country Square.'"
"Fascinating," Colonel Torine said, managing to keep a straight face.
"They guard his tomb inside like we do the Unknown Soldier, twenty-four/seven. If they want to put Mr. Masterson's body in there, it's really an honor."
"You're right, Roger. And I can see why they'd want to do it, but I don't know how that's going to go down with Mrs. Masterson, not to mention my orders to get her and the kids out of here as quickly as possible."
He looked at Torine.
"What we're going to do now is go to the hospital and introduce Betty and Jack to her. I told you, she's frightened. It might be useful if you went along, if you'd be willing. Tell her the travel plans, you know, whatever might make her feel better."
"You don't have to ask, Charley," Colonel Torine said. "About that or anything else. General Naylor didn't like it much, I don't think, but he made it very clear that you're running this exercise."
"I hear a cell phone ringing," Betty announced.
Castillo patted his clothing as he remembered his was in the bedroom, then quickly got up and went to get it. That took some time, as it was in the pocket of the pants he had been wearing when Betty had come looking for her lost handkerchief, and had been kicked out of sight when Jack Britton had rung the door chimes.
As had, Castillo learned when he reached under the bed for them, Betty's brassiere and underpants.
That means when she walked out of here, she wasn't wearing anything under her blue jeans and sweater!
A series of mental images flooded his mind.
Goddammit, what's the matter with you? Answer the goddamn cellular!
By the time he'd gotten the telephone from his pocket, it was too late.
The phone, however, had captured the caller's number. He pushed the MISSED CALL key, then the DIAL key.
"Sylvia Grunblatt."
The embassy public information officer. What the hell does she want?
"C. G. Castillo, Ms. Grunblatt. Were you trying to reach me?"
"Where are you?"
Not that it's any of your business, but-
"I'm in the Four Seasons."
"According to them, they don't have anybody named Castillo registered. You want to tell me what that's all about?"
"How'd you get my cellular number?"
"Ambassador Silvio gave it to me."
"How can I help you, Ms. Grunblatt?"
"The shoe's on the other foot. The press is onto you. Somebody around here has a big mouth."
"You want to explain that?"
"The New York Times guy wants to know about the President's agent, starting with his name, and so do CNN and AP and La Nacion, ad infinitum. What do I tell them?"
"You have no idea what they're talking about."
"They're not going to believe that, and they're not going to like it."
"Ambassador Silvio told me you're a first-class press officer. You'll think of something."
"I can hear them now," she said. " 'Are you trying to tell me, Sylvia, that my source was lying to me?' "
"To which you respond, 'I cannot vouch for your unnamed sources. I can only tell you what I have been told.'"
"To which they will respond, 'Oh, bovine excreta, Sylvia,' or words to that effect."
"Sylvia, I'm sorry, but your splendid relations with the press are going to have to be sacrificed for operational requirements."
"I was afraid of that," she said. "The ambassador said I was to handle this any way you wanted."
"The one thing I don't need is my name, picture, or the words 'Presidential Agent' in the newspapers or on the tube."
"Okay, you got it. But be warned, they'll be looking for you. Since there are-with one exception-no other developments in the story, you-the President's agent- are the story."
"What's the one exception?"
"Presuming the ambassador can get Mrs. Masterson to go along-he hasn't asked her yet-the Argentines want to pin the Grand Cross of the Great Liberator on Jack's casket, which at the time will be lying in state in the Catedral Metropolitana. If she goes along-and she might not; if I were her I think I'd tell the Argentines to go piss up a rope-that will be a spectacle. The press- especially TV-likes spectacles, and that may get some of the heat off you."
"I was about to go to the German Hospital," Castillo said.
"You got somebody from SIDE with you who can get you in the back door? Otherwise be prepared for celebrity."
"How will they know what I look like?"
"The leak about the President's agent was intentional. I think it follows they would have also leaked a description."
"You have any idea who the leaker is?"
"If I had to bet, I'd bet it was one of the law enforcement types…"
Yeah, Castillo thought, and I'll bet the bastard's name is Yung.
"… but nothing more specific than that. If I can get the name, you want it?"
"Indeed I do."
"I was hoping you would."
"Why?"
"Because I ran out of imagination after I thought castration would be a suitable punishment for the sonofabitch, and I'm sure you can think of something more exquisitely painful."
"Indeed I can."
"Stay in touch, please, Mr. X."
"Thanks, Sylvia."
Castillo put the cellular in his trousers pocket, whereupon it immediately rang again.
Now what the hell does she want?
"Yes, Sylvia?"
"Actually, this is Juan Silvio."
"Good morning, sir."
"Before I get into this, I presume Ms. Grunblatt did get in touch with you?"
"Yes, sir. I just got off the line with her."
"I guess she told you there's been a leak?"
"Yes, sir."
"I'm sorry. I'd really like to know who did it."
"So would I."
"Did Sylvia also tell you the Argentine government wants to honor Mr. Masterson both by having him lie in state in the cathedral, and by posthumously decorating him with the Grand Cross of the Great Liberator?"
"Yes, sir."
"I didn't think I had the right to agree to either without talking to both you and Mrs. Masterson. And I think we should talk this over before I broach the subject to her."
"Sir, I was just about to go to the hospital. I want to introduce Special Agent Schneider to Mrs. Masterson. She's the female agent I asked be sent down here. And I have Colonel Torine, who flew the C-17 down here, with me. I thought he might be able to reassure Mrs. Masterson about the travel arrangements. Which brings up something else, sir. Colonel Torine informed me the President wants to inter Mr. Masterson at Arlington, and-"