W Griffin - Hunters

"Right," Ordonez said. "There were marks in the mud which almost certainly came from a helicopter's skids. Strongly suggesting that the helicopter came some distance to the estancia and that the fuel was placed there before the helicopter arrived."

"Where would a helicopter come from?" Howell asked. "Brazil?"

"Brazil or Argentina," Ordonez said. "For that matter, from Montevideo. But I'm leaning toward Argentina."

"Why?" McGrory asked.

"Because that's where the fuel drums came from," Ordonez said. "Of course, that doesn't mean the helicopter came from Argentina, just that the fuel did. The helicopter could just as easily have come from Brazil, as you suggest."

"You haven't been able to identify any of the bodies?" McGrory asked.

"The only thing we have learned about the bodies is that a good deal of effort went into making them hard to identify. None of them had any identification whatever on them or on their clothing. They rented a Mercedes Traffik van at the airport in Carrasco-"

"Don't you need a credit card and a driver's license to rent a car?" Howell asked. "And a passport?"

That earned him another dirty look from McGrory.

And when this is over, I will get a lecture reminding me that underlings are not expected to speak unless told to by the ambassador.

Sorry, Mr. Ambassador, sir, but I didn't think you were going to show any interest in that, and it damned well might be useful in finding out who the Ninjas were and where they came from.

"Both," Ordonez said. "The van was rented to a Senor Alejandro J. Gastor, of Madrid, who presented his Spanish passport, his Spanish driver's license, and a prepaid MasterCard debit card issued by the Banco Galicia of Madrid. The Spanish ambassador has learned that no passport or driver's license has ever been issued to anyone named Alejandro J. Gastor and that the address on the driver's license is that of a McDonald's fast-food restaurant."

"Interesting," Howell said.

He thought: Ordonez is pretty good.

I wonder if anyone spotted my car up there?

Or the Yukon from the embassy in Buenos Aires that took the jet fuel there?

We put Argentinean license plates on it.

Is that another reason Ordonez is "leaning toward Argentina" as the place the chopper came from?

"And so is this," Ordonez said, and handed Howell a small, zipper-top plastic bag. There was a fired cartridge case in it.

"This is one of the cases found at the estancia," Ordonez went on. "There were, in all, one hundred and two cases, forty-six of them 9mm, seventy-five.223, and this one."

"Looks like a.308 Winchester," Howell said, examining the round through the plastic, then handed the bag to McGrory, who examined it carefully.

Howell watched with masked amusement. Senor Pompous doesn't have a clue about what he's looking at.

Ordonez did not respond directly to the.308 comment.

Instead, he said, "The 9mm cases were of Israeli manufacture. And the.223 were all from the U.S. Army. Which means, of course, that there is virtually no chance of learning anything useful from either the 9mm or the.223 cases. Or from the weapons we found on the scene, which were all Madsen submachine guns of Danish manufacture. We found five submachine guns, and there were six men in the dark coveralls. There were also indications that something-most likely a sixth Madsen, but possibly some other type of weapon taken because it was unusual-was removed from under one of the bodies found on the veranda.

"I think it's reasonable to assume this casing came from the rifle which killed the two men we found on the veranda. They were both shot in the head. We found one bullet lodged in the wall-"

"I'm afraid I'm missing something," McGrory interrupted. "Is there something special about this bullet?"

There you go again, McGrory! The bullet is the pointy thing that comes out the hole in the barrel after the "bang."

What you're looking at is the cartridge case.

"Mr. Ambassador, what you're holding is the cartridge case, not the bullet," Ordonez said. "And, yes, there is something special about it."

Now I know I like you, Chief Inspector Ordonez. You're dangerous, but I like you.

"And what is that?" McGrory asked, his tone indicating he did not like to be corrected.

"If you'll look at the headstamp, Mr. Ambassador," Ordonez said.

"Certainly," McGrory said, and looked at Ordonez clearly expecting him to hand him a headstamp, whatever that was.

"It's on the bottom of the cartridge casing in the bag, Mr. Ambassador," Ordonez said.

That's the closed end, Senor Pompous, the one without a hole.

McGrory's lips tightened and his face paled.

With a little bit of luck he's going to show everybody his fabled Irish temper. Does hoping that he does make me really unpatriotic?

"What about it?" McGrory asked, holding the plastic bag with his fingers so he could get a good look at the bottom of the cartridge casing.

"The headstamp reads 'LC 2004 NM,' Mr. Ambassador," Ordonez said. "Can you see that, sir?"

Oh, shit! I didn't see that.

I didn't look close at the case because I knew what it was and where it had come from: the sniper's rifle.

That's an explanation, not an excuse.

Darby said the kid fired only two shots, so why didn't they pick up both cases?

Is that one lousy cartridge case going to blow the whole thing up in our faces?

McGrory nodded.

"If I'm wrong," Ordonez said, "perhaps you can correct me, but I think the meaning of that stamping is that the cartridge was manufactured at the U.S. Army Lake City ammunition plant-I believe that it's in Utah-in 2004. The NM stands for 'National Match,' which means the ammunition is made with a good deal more care and precision than usual because it's intended for marksmanship competition at the National Matches."

McGrory looked at him but didn't say anything.

"That sort of ammunition isn't common, Mr. Ambassador," Ordonez went on. "It isn't, I understand, even distributed throughout the U.S. Army. The only people who are issued it are competitive marksmen. And snipers. And, as I understand it, only Special Forces snipers."

"You seem to know a good deal about this subject, Chief Inspector," McGrory said.

"Only since yesterday," Ordonez said, smiling. "I called our embassy in Washington and t hey called your Pentagon. Whoever they talked to at the Pentagon was very obliging. They said, as I said a moment ago, that the ammunition is not issued to anyone but competitive marksmen. And Special Forces snipers. And has never been sold as military surplus or given to anyone or any foreign government."

"You are not suggesting, are you, Chief Inspector," McGrory asked, coldly, "that there was a U.S. Army Special Forces sniper in any way involved in what happened at that estancia?"

"I'm simply suggesting, sir, that it's very unusual…"

The storm surge of righteous indignation overwhelmed the dikes of diplomacy.

"Because if you are," McGrory interrupted him, his face now flushed and his eyes blazing, "please let me first say that I find any such suggestion-any hint of such a suggestion-personally and officially insulting."

"I'm sure, Mr. Ambassador, that Chief Inspector Ordo-" Deputy Foreign Minister Alvarez began.

"Please let me finish, Senor Alvarez," McGrory said, cutting him off. "The way the diplomatic service of the United States functions is the ambassador is the senior government official in the country to which he is accredited. Nothing is done by any U.S. government officer-and that includes military officers-without the knowledge and permission of the ambassador. I'm surprised that you didn't know that, Senor Alvarez.

"Further, your going directly to the Pentagon via your ambassador in Washington carries with it the implication that I have or had knowledge of this incident which I was not willing to share with you. That's tantamount to accusing me, and thus the government of the United States, of not only conducting an illegal operation but lying about it. I am personally and officially insulted and intend to bring this to the immediate attention of the secretary of state."