"You mean, have the casket lie in state, but not have Mrs. Masterson participate in the decoration ceremony?"
"Yes, sir."
"That's a good thought."
"Sir, I'd like to get the Mastersons out of the country as soon as possible. When are they going to let her leave here?"
"She can leave anytime," Santini answered. "They did another blood workup first thing this morning. She's clean."
"When do the Argentines want to start the show?" Castillo asked.
"They want to move the body to the cathedral this afternoon," Silvio said. "Then, they will permit the public to pay its respects from six until ten tonight, and from eight to ten in the morning. They're going to provide an honor guard, and I've asked the Marines to be ready to do the same. They've scheduled the award ceremony for ten, starting with a mass, which will be celebrated by the papal nuncio. Fortunately, Jack was a Roman Catholic."
"As opposed to being a Southern Baptist, you mean?" Santini said, and immediately added, "I didn't mean to be flippant."
"If Jack had been a Southern Baptist, or Jewish, or a Mormon," the ambassador said, "that probably would pose a problem."
"How's the security at her house?" Castillo asked.
"I went out there in the wee hours," Santini replied. "It looked fine to me."
"And if she leaves the hospital in, say, an hour, how long is it going to take to set up a secure motorcade?"
"Munz says give him thirty minutes' notice. He has people standing by."
"Will the motorcade be secure?" Ambassador Silvio asked.
"Actually, sir, there will be three motorcades," Santini said, "each consisting of a Gendarmeria National lead car, followed by a Policia Federal car, followed by two armored embassy cars with blacked-out windows, followed by another Policia Federal car and an ambulance and a Gendarmeria chase car. They will go to the house in San Isidro by three different routes. The embassy cars will have security personnel in both. Mrs. Masterson will be in one of them."
"Which one?" Castillo asked.
"I'll decide that just before we leave the hospital," Santini said.
Castillo had just thought, That three-motorcade business is really clever; thank God Santini really knows how to handle things like this, when the ambassador asked, "Sound good to you, Charley?" which brought on the sobering realization, Jesus Christ, Santini may be good, but this is my responsibility.
"It sounds fine to me, sir," Castillo said.
"Well, let's go see how Mrs. Masterson feels about all this," Ambassador Silvio said. "As Charley says, it's her call."
No, Castillo thought, it's not. It's mine. I have both the responsibility for her safety, and the authority to say, "No way are we going to put her in the line of fire again. I don't care if the Argentines like it or not." The roll-down metal shutters over the windows of Elizabeth Masterson's room were closed. The fluorescent lights in the room were harsh.
She was sitting in an armchair, wearing a dressing gown. The ashtray on the small table beside her was full of butts. Most of them were long, as if she'd taken just a few puffs before putting them out.
"Good morning, Betsy," Ambassador Silvio said, taking the dirty ashtray from the table and handing it to one of the guards at the door with the unspoken order to bring a clean one. "How are you?"
"How would you suppose I am, Mr. Ambassador?" she asked, sarcastically.
"I hoped I was Juan to you, Betsy," Silvio said. "You remember Mr. Castillo from yesterday?"
"Good morning," Castillo said.
She acknowledged his presence with a slight inclination of her head and the faintest of smiles.
Yesterday she looked sick. Today she looks bitter. And more than a little wary. She obviously would prefer that I not be here. What the hell is she hiding?
"Mrs. Masterson," Castillo said, "this is Special Agent Schneider of the Secret Service. If you have no objection, she'll be with you and the children."
"Hello," Mrs. Masterson said, with a smile that looked genuine. She put out her hand.
"I'm very sorry about your husband, Mrs. Masterson," Special Agent Schneider said.
"Thank you. Would you be offended- What do I call you?"
"Betty would be fine, ma'am."
"Would you be offended, Betty, if I said you're not what comes to mind when you hear 'Secret Service'?"
"Not at all."
Betsy Masterson turned to Silvio.
"I heard a doctor tell a nurse-I guess they think I don't speak Spanish-something about a ceremony at the Catedral Metropolitana. What's that all about?"
"Actually, it's the reason I'm here, Betsy," Silvio replied. "What the Argentine government wants to do is to place Jack's casket in the cathedral-to have him lie in state, in other words, with an honor guard-let the public pay their respects tonight and tomorrow morning, and then, in connection with a memorial mass to be celebrated by the papal nuncio, to award Jack the Grand Cross of the Great Liberator. Either the President or the foreign minister-probably the President-will do that. It's quite an honor."
"Jack didn't like either one of them," she said, then immediately added, "I shouldn't have said that."
"You can say anything you want to say," Silvio said.
"Am I expected to participate in this?"
"All you would have to do is be there, and that's entirely up to you, Betsy. Mr. Castillo and I are agreed that it's your decision. The entire diplomatic corps will be there."
"In other words, it would be what Jack would call a command performance?" she asked, but it was a statement, not a question.
"Jack had a good many friends in the diplomatic corps," Silvio said.
"When Jack thought it was in the interests of the United States, he could make the devil himself think they were close friends," she said.
"That's true," Silvio said, with a smile.
"Jack would want me to participate in something like this, so okay."
"To repeat myself, Betsy, that's entirely up to you."
"Not really," she said. "My father would not understand my not participating. It's always been duty first with him, too. He used to say-and I don't think he was joking-that a diplomat should be like a Jesuit priest, who gives up his personal life and comfort to serve something far more important. And we both know Jack went along with that notion. Which brings me to my family. Have they been told what's happened?"
"I spoke with Ambassador Lorimer shortly after I saw you yesterday," Silvio said. "I didn't get into your abduction, just… what happened to Jack."
"What exactly did you tell him?"
"That Jack had been assassinated by parties unknown," Silvio said. "I'm aware of Ambassador Lorimer's physical condition-"
"That was the right thing to do. Thank you."
"He wanted to telephone, but I told him-I guess this is a diplomatic obfuscation; I really believed it was in a good cause-that you had been sedated, and it probably would be best to wait until you felt yourself again, at which time you would call him."
"Again, Juan, that was the right thing to do. And thank you again. Well, I feel myself again. When do I get out of here?"
"An hour after you say the word, Mrs. Masterson," Castillo said. "It will take us about that long to arrange your transportation."
She looked at him, and not with gratitude.
I don't think I've done anything to annoy her-except maybe being an intruder into the diplomatic community-so that leaves her being afraid of me.
What the hell is that all about?
And how come her brother, the UN diplomat-Jean-Paul Lorimer-wasn't in the conversation? She didn't ask if he'd been notified, and he wasn't mentioned in that diplomatic holy orders speech she gave.
"What's the word?" she asked, almost belligerently. "I want to get out of here and be with my children."
"You just said it, Mrs. Lorimer. I'll tell Mr. Santini to get things rolling."
"Good."
"Mrs. Masterson," Castillo went on, "Colonel Torine, the pilot of the C-17-the Globemaster III that the President sent down here-is outside. I thought perhaps he could tell you about what's planned to get you and the children out of here and back to the States. And that you could tell him what you require."