"Senegal," O'Brien furnished.
"From Senegal to their UN Mission in New York. With diplomatic immunity. What happened was… out of school?"
Castillo nodded.
"Our dogs-not K-9, but the drug sniffers, those little spaniels or whatever-sniffed the cocaine in freight handling. We couldn't get a warrant to open the boxes, of course, but I happened to be down there looking for explosives and one of the boxes happened to get knocked over. Not much damage, but put enough of a crack in the box for me to be able to stick one of those meat-basting hypodermic needles… You know what I mean? They have great big needles?"
Castillo nodded again.
"… into the box and come out with a white powder that tested to be really high-grade coke. So we called in the DEA. Who called in the FBI and customs and the State Department. It got to be a real Chinese fire drill. The State Department didn't believe the white power had just dribbled out of the box; they as much as accused us of violating diplomatic immunity. They were afraid the Senegalese ambassador would be pissed and give an anti-American speech to the general assembly.
"What finally happened was that the shipment was passed through customs. Then the FBI brought in the New York City cops, told them what we knew, and the New York cops put some heavy surveillance on the Senegalese mission, and they finally caught one of their diplomats… he was number two, right, Frank?"
"Number three. Deputy chief of mission," O'Brien corrected him.
"… in the midst of a five-kilo sale to a guy in the Plaza Hotel. All they could do was charge the buyer with conspiracy to traffic. They couldn't even hold the Senegalese. He had diplomatic immunity. The State Department wouldn't even ask for the UN to send him home. They said they couldn't because they 'had knowledge of the legally highly questionable manner in which the alleged facts triggering the investigation had been conducted.'
"This really pissed off the New York cops, so wherever, wherever the Senegalese diplomat went for the next couple of months he had at least two cops sitting on him. And then one day, he had enough, went out to Kennedy, and got on an airplane and went home."
"Jesus Christ!" Fernando exploded.
"So when you find this guy you're looking for, Charley, maybe you better keep the drug angle in mind," Kramer said.
"I will," Castillo said.
"How do you rate the threat against Sergeant… sorry, Special Agent Schneider?" Kramer asked.
"I don't think these bastards were after her; they were either after me or anybody-like a Secret Service agent- to make their point to Mrs. Masterson. So I don't think there's much of a threat here. Having said-"
"You sonofabitch!" Lieutenant Schneider interrupted. "You really don't-"
"Out!" Chief Kramer exploded. "Out of here, Schneider! Right goddamn now!"
"Let him stay until I finish," Castillo said evenly.
Kramer raised an eyebrow, stared at Schneider, then sighed and nodded.
"Having said that," Castillo went on, "I'm going to keep Secret Service protection on her until I get the bastards that shot her. The agents are pretty good at protecting people."
"So are we," Chief Kramer said. "And as far as you're concerned, Schneider, when you come to visit your sister and you see detectives from Dignitary Protection sitting on her beside the Secret Service, instead of Highway, you think long and hard about why I decided to do that. Now get out of here. Wait by the elevator. I'm not through with you."
"How about keeping him in here while I go say goodbye to her?" Castillo asked. "I really have to get out of here right now."
Kramer nodded. "Sit there, Lieutenant Schneider," he ordered, pointing to a vinyl-upholstered couch. "And if you get off that couch before I tell you you can, I'll have you up on charges."
Kramer waited until Lieutenant Schneider angrily threw himself onto the couch and then put out his hand to Castillo.
"Let me know what I can do to help."
"Thanks, Fritz," Castillo said, and walked out of the waiting room.
Special Agent Jack Britton was standing by Betty's door.
"I only heard you were coming here forty-five minutes ago, Charley. I called Miller and-"
"I'm glad you're here, Jack," Castillo said. "I'm headed for Paris and what I'd like you-"
"Miller told me," Britton interrupted. "Everything. Thanks for keeping me on this."
"I need you, Jack."
"I'm on an American Airlines flight from Miami to Buenos Aires at eleven something tonight."
"Go to the Four Seasons, and then get in touch with Tony Santini."
"I'll do it."
Castillo pushed open the door to Betty's room. Her mother and father were standing on either side of the bed. Her father gave him another icy look, and when he did, her mother looked over her shoulder and saw Castillo.
"Charley's here, honey," her mother said. "Dad and I will be right outside."
"Thank you, Mrs. Schneider," Castillo said softly. He offered his hand. "We haven't been formally introduced, and I'm very sorry it had to be under such conditions."
Betty's mother took his hand in both of hers, made a soft smile, then turned for the door.
Her father shook his head, walked wordlessly to the door, and held it open for his wife, then followed her through it.
Castillo went to the bed and took Betty's hand.
With great difficulty, Betty asked, "The Mastersons? Okay?"
"They've got twenty-four Delta shooters and half of the Mississippi state police sitting on them."
"Delta?"
"Special Forces guys."
She was surprised to hear that and asked with her eyes for an explanation.
"Long story, baby. Not important. But the Mastersons are safe. The key to this is her brother. Right after we landed in Mississippi, she told me the bad guys really want her brother. She doesn't know where he is. So I'm on my way to Paris to find him. He should know who these bastards are."
"Can you do that?"
"Find him, you mean? I'm going to try hard."
"Just go to Paris?"
Jesus Christ, I have to go through the classified business, even with her!
"Baby, this is Top Secret-Presidential, which means you can't tell anybody, even your family."
Especially your goddamn brother.
She nodded, but her eyes asked for an explanation.
"The President, in what they call a finding, set up a covert unit to find the people who did this. He gave it to me, together with all the authority I need to do whatever has to be done."
Her eyebrows showed that she was impressed.
"I'll make sure they keep you up to speed on what's happening. But you have to keep it to yourself."
"Will they tell me?"
"Special Agent Schneider, you are now assigned to the Office of Organizational Analysis, which is the cover for this," Castillo said. "I'm the chief. You'll be told."
"I wish I could go with you."
Jesus, she's not thinking of us holding hands as we take the elevator to the top of the Eiffel Tower. Or sitting in the Deux Magots on the Left Bank. She wants to go as a cop.
"Me, too."
"Be careful, Charley."
"Wiener schnitzel, baby. I have to go."
He bent over, kissed her very gently on the lips, and looked into her eyes for a long moment.
Then she shrugged, squeezed his hand, and motioned with her head toward the door.
As he and Fernando got on the elevator, he heard the Latin Secret Service agent talk to her lapel microphone.
"Don Juan coming down." [FIVE] Hotel de Crillon 10 Place de la Concorde Paris, France 0525 27 July 2005 Paris was just starting to wake up when they landed. There had been little traffic on the way in from Le Bourget, and the Place de la Concorde had been nearly empty of vehicles and pedestrians.
"I think the best thing to do is grab some sack time," Castillo announced as they registered. "What about leaving a call for half past ten?"
"Good idea," Torine said.
Castillo knew the problem was going to be jet lag. Their body clocks thought it was midnight, not half past five in the morning.