W Griffin - Hunters

"Yes, ma'am?"

"He told me that someone from our embassy in Montevideo had called the ambassador-as next of kin-and told him what had happened."

"I didn't even think about that," Castillo said.

"There's a procedure in cases like this and it kicked in when Mr. Lorimer was identified," she said. "And they had no way of knowing, of course, that he had a heart condition, or, indeed, that he is a retired ambassador."

"How did he take it?"

"Well. And he and Mr. Masterson both expressed their appreciation for your offer to look after Mr. Lorimer's affairs in Uruguay and France. That was a nice thing for you to do, Charley."

"The truth is, I wanted a legal reason to get into his apartment in Paris and the Uruguay estancia to see what I could find. And maybe keep quiet some questions being asked about Lorimer's bank accounts in Uruguay."

She took that without breaking stride.

"And how did that go?"

"Special Agent Yung had an account in the Liechtensteinische Landesbank in the Caymans-in connection with what he was doing for the FBI down there. Getting it in there went smoothly. The next step is getting it out of that account and into one that was supposed to be opened for me. I'm going to see if I can do that this morning."

"The reason I asked is the same standard procedures that come into play when an American dies abroad that require the notification of the next of kin also require the protection of assets. Even if you got it out of Uruguay, obviously, it was after his death. There will probably be some questions asked."

"Damn!"

"Yeah. Well, maybe we'll have a chance to talk about that tonight."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You're not going to be at the White House?"

"No, ma'am. I know Secretary Hall will be there, but I won't."

"Okay. Well, I will ask some discreet questions about that problem, and if I come up with anything I'll let you know."

"I would very much appreciate that."

"Talk to you later, Charley," the secretary of state said and hung up.

Castillo put the handset back in its cradle.

"Priority one is to get that money out of Yung's account and into mine," he said. "And to do that, I have to have the numbers of my new account and somebody has to tell me how to move money around in an offshore bank."

"Who has the numbers?" Agnes asked.

"Otto Gorner at the Tages Zeitung. More probably Frau Schroder."

"Would they give them to me if I called?"

"Probably not now, but after I call them this time they will. How do I dial an international number?"

"If you know it," Agnes said, "punch it in. After you give it to me." Transferring nearly sixteen million dollars between two accounts in the Liechtensteinische Landesbank in the Cayman Islands proved to be even more difficult and time-consuming than Charley thought it would be.

Since no one wanted to be out of the office when yet another call involving their furnishing of just one more detail came from either Fulda or the Cayman Islands, luncheon was hamburgers from Wendy's. Special Agent Yung, who was apparently willing to make any sacrifice required to get the money out of his account, volunteered to go get them.

Yung's relief when, shortly after two P.M., the Liechtensteinische Landesbank reported that the funds were now in the account of Karl W. von und zu Gossinger-and thus out of his account-was palpable but short lived.

Just about as soon as Castillo had hung up, Miller wondered aloud-Castillo thought he was probably doing it on purpose; he knew Miller didn't like Yung-what the boys at Fort Meade were going to do with their intercepts of the many telephone calls they had made.

Fort Meade, Maryland, near Washington, houses the National Security Agency, the very secretive unit that "intercepts" telephone conversations and other electronic transmission of data or text, such as e-mails.

"You know how that works, don't you, Yung?" Miller asked.

"I have a general idea, of course," Yung said.

"Well, in simple terms, what they do is record practically everything coming out of Washington," Miller began. "Then they run what they've recorded though high-speed filters looking for words or names or phrases in which there is interest. With all the interest in money laundering, as you of all people should know, the Liechtensteinische Landesbank is sure to be one of those phrases. And so is 'millions of dollars.'

"So by now, there's probably at least one NSA analyst sitting over there wondering whether that transfer was simply a legitimate transfer or whether some drug lord or raghead is making financial transactions inimical to the interests of the United States. I don't think the IRS is on their distribution list, but I know Langley and the FBI are."

Castillo restrained a smile as Yung's face reflected the implications for him of what Miller was saying.

And then, suddenly, Castillo realized that what had started as a joke was potentially a serious problem.

"Which means we're going to have to do something and right now," he said, "before somebody starts a file on this."

Miller misread him. He thought Castillo had decided to add to Yung's discomfiture.

"Charley, you know as well as I do that once those NSA people latch on to something, they're like dogs with a meaty bone," Miller said.

"Agnes," Castillo said, "I want Yung on the next plane to Buenos Aires."

"You mean today?" Yung asked.

"I mean in an hour, if that's when the next plane leaves."

"What am I going to do in Buenos Aires?"

"In Montevideo, you are going to make sure that whatever information the embassy has turned up there about recent wire transfers out of the accounts of Senor Jean-Paul Bertrand is not reported to the State Department and that they don't turn up anything more that will be reported."

"Good God, you go to prison for destroying evidence!" Yung said.

"You're not going to destroy evidence," Castillo said. "You're going to collect that evidence and get it to Mr. Forbison, who will establish and maintain a classified file on that money from step one."

He leaned forward in the high-backed judge's chair and pulled the red telephone to him.

"Which of these buttons is Natalie Cohen's?" he asked, looking at Mr. Forbison.

"Five," she said.

He pushed the fifth button.

"Castillo, Madam Secretary," he said. "Can you give me a moment?"

Castillo explained the situation, then listened to her thoughts.

"Thank you very much, Madam Secretary. I think this will handle the problem. I'll keep you advised," Castillo said.

He put the handset back in the cradle and looked at Special Agent Yung.

"You should have picked up on that, Yung," Castillo said. "But, in case you didn't, the secretary of state will message the ambassador in Montevideo that she is dispatching an FBI agent with special knowledge of the situation-you-down there to investigate the financial affairs of Mr. Lorimer/Bertrand, that they are to turn over to you whatever they have developed so far, and that you will make your report directly to her."

"Okay," Yung said.

"You will make two reports," Castillo said.

"Two?"

Castillo nodded.

"One will be a complete report of everything you know, what the other FBI guys know, and the details of the wire transfers of the money from his account to yours. You will take that one, by hand, to the embassy in Buenos Aires, and give it to Alex Darby, who will be expecting it and who will send it to Mr. Forbison in a diplomatic pouch. That will take a day longer, but we won't get involved with encryption."

"I don't understand that, Charley," Mr. Forbison said. "Why not encrypt it?"

"Whenever you encrypt anything, two more people, the encrypt or and the decrypt or, are in on the secret."

"I never thought about that," she said. "You don't trust cryptographers?"