"But is there some reason you have to go there immediately after this?" Masterson inquired, gesturing toward the activities in the hangar. "Would my daughter-in-law and the children and of course the Lorimers be safe, in your judgment, if you weren't personally there for an hour or so?"
"Yes, sir, I'm sure they would be. In addition to the state police you already have, Mr. D'Allessando and his men-"
"You're thinking of the Belle Visage," Betsy Masterson said.
"And what do you think of me thinking of the Belle Visage?" Masterson asked.
"That'd do it, Dad," she said. "No one would disturb you there."
"Then it's settled. What we'll do as the cortege heads for the plantation, Mr. Castillo, is go to the Belle Visage. We can have our little talk in private and then go out to the plantation. You can ride with me. How does that sound?"
"Sir, I don't know what the Belle Visage is."
"It's a gambling hell on the coast. There's a place there where we will not be disturbed."
"Whatever you say, sir. But there is one other problem. I have to establish contact with my cousin."
"Your cousin? May I inquire what that's all about?"
"Excuse me," Torine said, "but I just heard the band play 'Hail to the Chief.'"
"Charley, I can handle things until you get to the… plantation," Vic D'Allessando said, as they saw Lieutenant Colonel McElroy walking up to them. "Colonel, you want to come with me or go with Charley?"
"Charley?" Torine asked, seeking guidance.
"I'll see you at the plantation," Castillo said.
"You stay here, my dear," Winslow Masterson said. "I'll go get the children and your parents." He started for the stairs, then stopped and turned. "If you are seen with me, Mr. Castillo, there might be interest that at the moment neither of us wants. Can you get to the Belle Visage by yourself?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, then, I'll see you there," Winslow Masterson said, and started again for the stairs.
Castillo looked at D'Allessando. "You have wheels, Vic?"
"Not to spare, Charley."
"You have the Secret Service guy on your radio?"
D'Allessando nodded.
"Tell him that I need a Yukon here, right now, for I don't know how long."
"You can do that?"
"You can do that and we'll see what happens."
D'Allessando tilted his head slightly.
"You on, Ogilvie?" he said.
Mrs. Masterson looked at him with great curiosity.
"He's got a radio under there," Castillo explained.
"Mr. Castillo wants a Yukon at the Globemaster right now," D'Allessando said. There was a pause. "All he told me was to tell you he wants a Yukon here, now."
D'Allessando straightened up and announced, "On the way, Charley."
"Now tell them to find Fernando Lopez-he's my cousin, he's in the VIP section, and they know it-and bring him here."
D'Allessando bent his head again and repeated the order, and then said, "They'll do it."
Betsy Masterson's eyes met Castillo's.
"My father-in-law is just like Jack, isn't he?"
"Yes, ma'am, I was thinking the same thing."
"I guess it's the genes," she said. [FIVE] Estancia Shangri-La Tacuarembo Province Republica Oriental del Uruguay 2355 25 July 2005 Jean-Paul Bertrand watched the ceremonies taking place at Keesler Air Force Base on CNN.
They are really making a show of it, he thought, with somewhat grudging admiration. And then he thought, That's precisely what it is, a show. Jack gets himself shot, and they're acting as if he were the secretary of state, and all he was was chief of mission in a third-rate embassy.
The President arranged the show for his own agenda.
Jean-Paul got to watch not only Betsy and the kids this time but his father and mother as well. There was a camera long shot of the family walking behind the casket as it was slowly marched off the airplane.
Daddy looks fine, old but fine; not as one would expect of someone who nearly died of a heart attack. Mom must have her hands full with him. Jack's father looks just like Jack. And so does the older boy. What the hell is his name? Do they call him "Junior" or "the Third"?
The cameras were trained, too, on the reviewing stand as the family took their places beside the President. The President not only kissed Betsy but put his arms around her in a compassionate hug.
If that's not for the purpose of putting the ignorant masses who voted for him in a receptive state of mind for what he's going to say, then what is it for?
The secretary of state also embraced Betsy and kissed her, then did the same to Ambassador and Mrs. Lorimer and then the kids.
Daddy at least had the dignity to look a little offended. God, how I loathe that arrogant little bitch! She's nearly as bad as the President!
"My fellow Americans," the President began, and Jean-Paul Bertrand almost switched the television off then, but curiosity stayed his hand.
"I come here tonight bearing two messages.
"One is from you.
"The American people offer their profound condolences to the families of J. Winslow Masterson and Sergeant Roger Markham, USMC, who gave their lives in the service of the United States.
"The second message is from me," the President went on. "It is to those who committed the cowardly murders of these two good men.
"I say to you that this outrage will not go unpunished. I have ordered…"
Jean-Paul Bertrand switched off the television.
It would have been nice to see more of the family, but if the price to do that is looking at that man while he mouths such nonsense, it is simply too high.
XIII
[ONE] Penthouse C The Belle Vista Casino amp; Resort U.S. Highway 90 ("The Magic Mile") Biloxi, Mississippi 2230 25 July 2005 When the dark blue, nearly black, GMC Yukon XL pulled up in the brilliantly lit drive of the hotel, the driver's door was opened by a doorman in what looked like the uniform of an admiral in the Imperial Russian Navy.
"Welcome to the Belle Vista Casino and Resort," he announced. "How may I be of service?"
"You can tell me where I can park this thing," the driver said.
"We have valet parking, sir."
"No," the driver said, and showed the doorman his Secret Service credentials. "I keep control of the vehicle. And I need it close, in case it's required in a hurry."
"Oh," the doorman said. "Is one of you gentlemen Mr. Costello?"
"My name is Castillo," Charley said, from the backseat.
"And you are Mr. Masterson's guest, sir?"
"Uh-huh."
"Welcome to the Belle Vista Casino and Resort, Mr. Castillo," the doorman said and opened the rear door. "Mr. Threadgill, the manager on duty, will be here momentarily."
Castillo and Fernando Lopez got out of the Yukon.
Fernando Lopez was an enormous man-six-foot-three, two hundred thirty pounds-with a full head of dark black hair and a swarthy complexion. He was wearing a dark blue suit, a crisp blue shirt with a white collar, a red-striped tie, and black ostrich-hide Western boots.
"If you want to get a cup of coffee or something," Castillo said to the driver, "I think this will probably take about an hour."
The Secret Service agent nodded but didn't say anything.
A tall, thin, elegantly dressed man in his late forties walked up to them.
"Mr. Castillo?" he asked and, when Charley nodded, put out his hand. "Welcome to the Belle Vista Casino and Resort, Mr. Castillo. My name is Edward Threadgill, and I am the manager on duty. If you'll follow me, please?"
He led them through the lobby. In a lounge to one side, three enormous television screens showed Air Force One taxiing toward a runway.
He stopped before an elevator, somewhat dramatically flashed a plastic card, and then demonstrated how the card operated the elevator door. He then presented the card to Castillo.
"He'll need one of those, too," Castillo said.
"Certainly," Mr. Threadgill announced, produced anotherplastic card, and handed it to Fernando. "There you are, sir. And you are, sir?"
"My name is Lopez," Fernando said.