W Griffin - Hunters

"Really?" McGrory replied and looked at Assistant Legal Attache Artigas.

"Ordonez called me just before lunch-"

McGrory raised his hand to stop him, and asked, "Ordonez is?"

"Chief inspector of the Interior Division of the Policia Federal, Mr. Ambassador."

McGrory nodded and waved his fingers as a signal for Artigas to go on.

"And asked that I meet him for lunch. I did so, and almost immediately he told me there had been a multiple murder-"

"Multiple murder?" McGrory interrupted. "How many did he mean by multiple?"

"Seven, Mr. Ambassador."

"Seven?"

"Yes, sir. Seven."

"And this massacre occurred here in Montevideo?"

"No, sir. On an estancia near Tacuarembo."

"And where, refresh me, is 'Tacuarembo'?"

"It's about three hundred sixty kilometers north of Montevideo, Mr. Ambassador."

"Never heard of it," the ambassador said. "Go on, Artigas."

"Yes, sir. Chief Inspector Ordonez asked me if I would be willing to go there with him-"

"I don't think that's a very good idea, Artigas," the ambassador said. "Do you, Monahan? We don't want the embassy splattered with the water from Uruguay's dirty laundry, do we?"

"Sir, I accepted Ordonez's invitation. I went there," Artigas said.

"And who did you check with before you did so? I can't believe Monahan would give you the go-ahead to do something like that. You didn't, Monahan, did you?"

"I didn't check with anyone, sir. I wasn't aware that I was required to."

"There is a difference, Artigas, between a requirement and the exercise of prudent conduct," the ambassador said. "Perhaps you should keep that in mind."

"Yes, sir."

"Go on."

"We flew to Tacuarembo in what I believe was the president's helicopter," Artigas said. "Which suggested to me that someone very senior in the Uruguayan government was really interested to see that Inspector Ordonez got there in a hurry, that there was interest at high levels in whatever had transpired at Tacuarembo."

"Several things, Artigas," the ambassador said. "First, I thought you said Chief Inspector Whatever…"

"It is Chief Inspector Ordonez, sir."

"Second, what makes you think you went flying in the president's helicopter?"

"It was a nearly new Aerospatiale Dauphin, sir. The police have old Hueys."

"In which you have flown?"

"Yes, sir. Many times."

"I wasn't aware of that," the ambassador said. "Were you, Monahan?"

"Yes, sir, I was. We try very hard to work closely with the Uruguayan authorities and-"

"Working closely with the Uruguayan authorities, of course, is a good idea. But riding in their helicopters? I shudder when I think of how well they are maintained. Or not maintained. I'll have to give that some thought. And until I have had the chance to do just that, I don't think there should be any more helicopter joyrides. Pass that word, won't you, Monahan?"

"Yes, sir."

"You flew to Tacuarembo, is that what you're saying, Artigas?"

"Yes, sir."

"And why did Chief Inspector Ordonez want you to do that, do you think?"

"He wanted to show me a photograph of one of the dead men, Mr. Ambassador."

"And why would he do that?"

"Probably because the photograph was of one of the dead men standing in a wedding party with J. Winslow Masterson."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Probably because the photograph was of one of the dead men standing in a wedding party with J. Winslow Masterson."

Now I have your attention, Artigas thought, you pompous little asshole!

"That's difficult to believe," Ambassador McGrory said after a moment. "You're sure it was our Mr. Masterson?"

"Yes, sir, it was Jack the Stack, all right."

"The late Mr. Masterson's athletic accomplishments are long past. You don't think it is disrespectful of you to refer to him that way?"

"No disrespect was intended, sir. I was a great admirer of Mr. Masterson."

"Still, Artigas…" McGrory said, disapprovingly. He went on: "Do we know the name of the man in the photograph with Mr. Masterson?"

"Chief Inspector Ordonez identified him to me as Senor Jean-Paul Bertrand, the owner of the estancia, sir."

"And he was dead, you said?"

"Shot twice, sir. In the head."

"By whom?"

"I have no idea, sir."

"And you think your good friend Chief Inspector Ordonez, if he had suspects in the case, would confide them to you?"

"Yes, sir, I think he would."

"But he has not done so, has he?"

"What the chief inspector has done, sir, is to request our assistance."

"What kind of assistance?"

"There were seven dead men in all, sir. Senor Bertrand and six others."

"Who were they? Who killed them?"

"We have no idea, sir. There was no identification of any sort on their bodies. What the chief inspector has asked me to do, Mr. Ambassador, is to send their fingerprints to Washington to see if the FBI has them on file."

Ambassador McGrory thought that over for a moment.

"I can see no problem with doing that," he said, finally. "But what makes you-or Chief Inspector Ordonez-think their fingerprints would be in the FBI's files? These are not Americans, presumably."

"We don't know that, sir."

"Is there any reason to think they might be?"

"No, sir. I don't think there is. On the other hand, there is no reason to presume they are not."

Ambassador McGrory considered that a moment.

"Do we know anything about the murdered man? The murdered man in the photograph?"

"His name was Bertrand, sir. Jean-Paul Bertrand."

"You already told me that," McGrory said. "My question was: Do we know anything about the murdered man?"

"He was Lebanese, sir, resident in Uruguay. Chief Inspector Ordonez told me that. He was an antiquities dealer."

"And for the third time, do we-as opposed to your friend the chief inspector-know anything about the murdered antiques dealer?"

Monahan said, "Special Agent Yung is maintaining a file on him, sir."

"And what does the file say?"

"I don't know, sir. The file is not in the file cabinet."

"Well, where is it?"

"I don't know, sir," Monahan said. "Possibly Yung took it home with him."

"He took an official file home with him?"

"I don't know that, sir. It is possible."

"Well, get him on the phone and tell him to bring the file to my office immediately."

"I tried to call him, sir. He doesn't answer the telephone at his apartment."

"Well, where is he?"

"I don't know, sir."

"You don't know?" Ambassador McGrory parroted, incredulously.

"He didn't come in today, sir. Possibly he's in Puente del Este."

"He had the day off, in other words?"

"I meant to say he may be working in Puente del Este, sir."

"But you don't know?"

"No, sir. I don't."

"What you're going to do, Monahan, while Artigas is preparing his draft report on this matter, is find Special Agent Yung and have him bring his files here."

"Yes, sir."

"I must say, Monahan, that until just now I thought you ran a tighter ship than is apparently the case." [FOUR] Office of the Ambassador The Embassy of the United States of America Lauro Muller 1776 Montevideo, Republica Oriental del Uruguay 0805 3 August 2005 Special agents/assistant legal attaches James D. Monahan and Julio Artigas were sitting on the chrome-and-leather couch outside the office of the minister extraordinary and plenipotentiary of the President of the United States to the Republic of Uruguay when the ambassador arrived.

They both looked worried. The Honorable Michael A. McGrory took no pity on them. Without speaking, he waved them some what imperiously into his office. He went to his desk, sat down, and, with another grand gesture, gave them permission to seat themselves in the two chairs facing his desk.

"Well," McGrory said, "what more do we know about the massacre in Tacuarembo than we did when last we met? Have you heard, for example, Artigas, from your good friend, Chief Inspector Ordonez?"