W. Griffin: The shooters

"By the time the helicopter would have reached Shangri-La-this was the interior minister's 'suggestion'-I would have ensured that the estancia had been visited by appropriate police officials under my command to make sure there were no security problems."

He paused.

Castillo thought, He's actually out of breath!

"You sound as if there's some reason you can't do that," Castillo said.

"Can't do what?"

"Take the Lorimers to the estancia in the President's helicopter."

"How are you going to take them there in the dark?" Ordonez said, gesturing.

"Speaking hypothetically, of course, I think that would pose no problem. What you do is fly there, and when people on the estancia, who are expecting you, hear you overhead, they turn on the headlights of their cars, which have been positioned to light the field near the house. And then you land."

"How are you going to find Shangri-La?"

"The Aerospatiale doesn't have it. I asked."

"I do," Castillo said. "Lester, show the chief inspector the laptop."

"You would trust this to get you there?" Ordonez asked several minutes later, when Bradley had finished his demonstration. "Is it safe?"

"Absolutely and absolutely," Castillo said, "and what small risk it might involve is far less, I submit, than the alternatives, which are either to drive the Lorimers and everybody else all the way up there, or-even worse-to put them in a hotel overnight, which carries with it the risk that the secretary of state, not having heard from me that the Lorimers are safely at the estancia, might telephone Ambassador McGrory and enlist him in her cause, whereupon he can be counted upon to start making a lot of noise we don't need."

"I was worried about that," Ordonez said. "If perhaps she hasn't already called the ambassador. If she had, I think we'd know."

"I think so. Let's keep him out of this, if possible."

Ordonez nodded, then said, "We'd have to make two trips, right? We can't get everybody in the Aerospatiale."

"Is the pilot of the Aerospatiale any good?"

"Of course they're good. They're the presidential pilots."

"Okay. Then I go in the Huey and they follow me in their Aerospatiale."

"You mean with my pilots, of course."

"It would be better if I went as copilot."

"Can you fly a Huey?"

"No, but I'm a quick learner." When that got the dubious look that Castillo anticipated, he added, his tone bordering on annoyance, "Yeah, I can fly one, Jose."

Fifteen minutes later, as Castillo was talking to the Uruguayan pilots beside the Aerospatiale, he heard Miller's voice on the Aerospatiale's radio.

"Carrasco approach control, Gulfstream Three Seven Nine."

Castillo walked toward the runway to watch the Gulfstream land. Bradley walked up to him.

"I'm sure that's our airplane, sir," Bradley said, pointing.

Castillo looked at Bradley, then at the Gulfstream touching down.

"Our airplane," huh, Lester?

Another reason I can't send you back to the Marine Corps.

You not only consider yourself a member of this ragtag outfit of ours, but you have earned the right to think just that.

Three minutes later, the Gulfstream rolled to a stop on the tarmac in front of the civil aviation terminal and next to the helicopters.

Miller was the first to come down the stair door. When he saw Castillo, he tried-and failed-to make it appear he was able to reach the tarmac without difficulty.

Castillo walked to meet Miller.

"Who told you that you could fly that down here?" Castillo greeted him.

"I got tired of riding a desk, Charley," Miller replied, unrepentant.

"And if the Air Force couldn't operate the rudder pedals-for any number of reasons that come quickly to mind-then what?"

"If I had had to push on the pedals, I would have pushed on the pedals, and you know it."

Next off the airplane was a burly man whose loose raincoat only partially concealed the Uzi he held against his leg.

Christ, if Ordonez sees the Uzi, will he make waves?

The burly man recognized Castillo-who did not recognize him-and saluted. Sort of. He touched two fingers of his left hand to his left temple. Castillo returned the salute with the same subtle gesture. Then the burly man, satisfied there was no threat on the tarmac, turned to the stair door. When Ambassador Lorimer started down the stairs, the burly man started to help him.

Lorimer curtly waved him away.

"Ah," Lorimer said. "Colonel Castillo. How nice of you to meet me. Entirely unnecessary, of course."

"How was the flight, Mr. Ambassador?"

"It made me feel like a rock-and-roll star," Lorimer said. "Where's your dog?" He looked around and finally located Max. Edgar Delchamps had him at the end of a tightly held leash.

"Ah, there you are, Max!" the ambassador said, put his fingers to his lips, and whistled shrilly.

Max towed Delchamps to the ambassador without apparent effort. The ambassador squatted and scratched Max's ears.

"Mr. Ambassador, there's a couple of small problems," Castillo said. "Would you and Mrs. Lorimer feel up to a helicopter flight of about an hour and a half, perhaps a little less?"

"To the estancia, you mean?"

"Yes, sir. Sir, the President of Uruguay welcomes you-this is Mr. Jose Ordonez of the Interior Department…"

"On behalf of the President of the republic, Mr. Ambassador, welcome to Uruguay. The President hopes you will be willing to use his helicopter for the final leg of your journey."

"That's very kind of him," Lorimer said. "May I ask a personal question?"

"Yes, sir, of course."

"Do all officials of your interior department go about with a Glock on their hips?"

Castillo laughed. Ordonez glowered at him.

"Try not to let my wife see it, please," Lorimer said. "And-partially because I think Colonel Castillo thinks this is necessary-I accept the kind offer of the President. There will be time when we get to the estancia for you to explain the nature of the 'small problems' Colonel Castillo has mentioned."

"Right this way, Mr. Ambassador," Ordonez said, "if you please."

"Before we do that, I'm sure my wife will wish to powder her nose, as the expression goes, and I will need a little sustenance."

"You're hungry, Mr. Ambassador?" Ordonez asked.

"Thirsty, actually," Lorimer said. "I've been told, Senor Ordonez, that Uruguay's male population consumes more scotch whiskey per capita than any other such population. Is that true?"

"I believe it is, Mr. Ambassador," Ordonez said.

"Then it wouldn't be too much trouble for you, would it, to come up with a little taste"-he held his thumb and index fingers about as widely separated as the joints would allow-"of, say, some of Macallan's finest? While my wife is powdering her nose, of course."

"I think that can be arranged, Mr. Ambassador," Ordonez said, smiling appreciatively.

"You know, Senor Ordonez, that according to Saint Timothy, our Lord said, 'Take a little wine for thy stomach's sake and thine other infirmities.'"

"I've heard that, Mr. Ambassador," Ordonez said.

"If they had had Macallan in those days-even the eighteen-year-old, never mind the thirty-I'm sure He would have said, 'Take a little Macallan.' Wouldn't you agree?"

"I think you're right, Mr. Ambassador," Ordonez said, nodding and smiling even more broadly.

Lorimer turned to Castillo.

"And while Senor Ordonez is arranging a little out-of-the-sight-of-mine-wife sustenance for me, Colonel, why don't you get on that marvelous radio of yours and inform my daughter that her mother and I have not only survived this perilous journey but are now in your capable protective hands?"

"Yes, sir."

[THREE]

Estancia Shangri-La

Tacuarembo Province

Republica Oriental del Uruguay 2115 12 September 2005 After a quick-but, Castillo noticed, quite thorough-inspection of the big house of Estancia Shangri-La, Ambassador Lorimer said that he thought it would be a good idea if everyone "had a little taste-perhaps a Sazerac-to wet down our new home."