W Griffin - Hunters

"And Kennedy is?"

"A former FBI agent who now works for Pevsner," the President said.

"And what was he doing in Argentina?"

"He accompanied a 767 loaded with objets d'art sent by the Saudi royal family from Riyadh for the King Fahd Islamic Cultural Center in Buenos Aires and took back to Riyadh a load of polo ponies and saddles and other polo accoutrements for the royal family," Castillo said.

"The airplane no doubt owned by Pevsner?" Montvale asked.

"Probably, sir. I didn't ask."

"And this Kennedy fellow just turned over a helicopter to you because you asked him? Is that what you're saying, Major Castillo?"

"I would bet that he did so with Mr. Pevsner's permission, sir, but I didn't ask about that, either."

"I must say, Mr. President, that I find this whole situation amazing."

"What is it they say, Charles, about politics making strange bedfellows?"

"I don't understand why this Kennedy fellow was concerned that the FBI agent saw him," Montvale said.

"Kennedy is obviously paranoid," the President said. "He thinks the FBI is still looking for him, despite my specific orders that the search be called off, and that if they find him they will terminate him."

"That's absurd!"

"Oh, I agree. For one thing, terminating him would be illegal," the President said.

"Why would they want to?"

"Well," Castillo said, "Kennedy thinks-he was a senior agent in the Ethical Standards Division of the FBI before he left-it's because he knows where all the FBI's skeletons are buried."

"Charley," the President said, "correct me if I'm wrong, but wouldn't the secrecy provisions of the Finding extend to anything connected with what you were doing down there? I mean, even to who any of your people saw anywhere?"

"I made that point to Mr. Yung, sir."

"Well, that should do it," the President said. "But since the subject came up, Charles, why don't you check with the CIA and the FBI to make sure they haven't forgotten my specific orders? If they have, I'd really like to hear about it."

"I can't believe they would ignore any presidential order, Mr. President."

"Check, Charles, please," the President said.

"Yes, Mr. President."

"Charley, I didn't hear you say whether you found anything useful at this fellow's estancia."

"Sir, we found an address book, a coded address book. Agent Yung said it looks to him like a fairly simple code and that it should be breakable."

"That's underway?"

"No, sir. I came right here from the hotel, sir. And…"

"And what?"

"And frankly, sir, I thought it would be better to see if I still have a job, before going over to Fort Meade to-"

The President cut him off with a raised hand. "All you found at the estancia was this address book?"

"No, sir. We found written confirmation of what Agent Yung believed was the money Mr. Lorimer had in Uruguayan banks."

"A good deal of money? More than he could reasonably have socked away for a rainy day?"

"Fifteen-point-seven million dollars, Mr. President."

"What sort of evidence?" Ambassador Montvale asked. "Bankbooks? Certificates of deposit? What?"

The President flashed Montvale a very cold look, then looked at Castillo.

"Sir, what Mr. Lorimer did was in effect loan the banks the money. What we took from the safe…I have them with me."

"You have what with you?" Montvale asked.

"Let me ask the questions, Charles, please," the President said and made a Give me whatever you have gesture to Castillo with both hands.

Castillo some what awkwardly took a handful of colorfully printed documents from his briefcase and handed them to the President.

The President glanced at them, then said, "You're the linguist, Charley. I have no idea what these say."

"Sir, they're certificates signed by officers of the banks involved, essentially stating that a payment on demand loan has been made by Mr. Lorimer to their bank and that the bank will honor-pay-these things, like checks, once Mr. Lorimer has endorsed them. Sort of like bearer bonds, Mr. President, but not exactly."

"And these are unsigned?"

"Yes, sir. Right now they're as good as an unsigned check," Castillo said.

"And we have no idea where-specifically, I mean-Lorimer got all that money, do we?" the secretary of state asked.

"No, ma'am," Castillo said. "I think-hell, I know-it's oil-for-food proceeds, but I can't prove it. What I was hoping was that we could tie it somehow to one of the names in the address book-assuming we can get that decoded-or to one or more of the names I got from another source."

"What other source?" Ambassador Montvale asked.

"I'd rather not say, Mr. Ambassador," Castillo said.

"I'm the director of National Intelligence," Montvale said, icily.

"And I think Charley knows that," the President said. "If he'd rather not say, I'm sure he has his reasons." He paused. "Which are, Charley?"

"Sir, I promised I would not reveal the identity of that source or share what he gave me without his permission."

"That's absurd!" Montvale snapped.

"I was hoping to get his permission," Castillo said. "Before I fucked up in Uruguay."

"You did say 'screwed up in Uruguay, ' didn't you?" the President asked.

"I beg your pardon," Castillo said. "I'm very sorry, Madam Secretary."

"I've heard the word before, Charley," Natalie Cohen said.

"Is that about it, Charley?" the President asked.

"Yes, sir. Except to say, Mr. President, how deeply I regret the loss of Sergeant Kranz and how deeply I regret having failed in the mission you assigned."

The President did not immediately respond. He looked into Castillo's eyes a moment as he considered that statement, then said, "How do you figure that you have failed, Charley?"

"Well, sir, the bottom line is that I am no closer to finding the people who murdered Mr. Masterson and Sergeant Markham and shot Agent Schneider than I was before I went looking for Mr. Lorimer. Mr. Lorimer is now dead and we'll never know what he might have told us if I hadn't botched his…"

Castillo's voice trailed off as he tried to find the right word.

"Repatriation?" the President offered.

"Yes, sir. And now Sergeant Kranz is dead. I failed you, sir."

"Charles," the President said, "what about the long-term damage resulting from Major Castillo's failure? Just off the top of your head?"

"Mr. President, I don't see it as a failure," Secretary Hall spoke up.

"The director of National Intelligence has the floor, Mr. Secretary. Pray let him continue," the President said, coldly.

"Actually, Mr. President, neither do I," Montvale said. "Actually, when I have a moment to think about it, quite the opposite."

"You heard him," the President pursued. "This man Lorimer is dead. We have no proof that Natalie can take to the UN that he was involved in the oil-for-food scandal or anything else. And Castillo himself admits that he's no closer to finding out who killed Masterson and the sergeant than he ever was. Isn't that failure?"

"Mr. President, if I may," Montvale said, cautiously. "Let me point out what I think the major-and that small, valiant band of men he had with him-has accomplished."

"What would that be?"

"If we accept the premise that Mr. Lorimer was involved in something sor-did, and the proof of that, I submit, is that he sequestered some"-Montvale looked to Castillo for help-"how many million dollars?"

"Fifteen-point-seven, sir," Castillo offered.

"…Some sixteen million U.S. dollars in Uruguay, and that parties unknown tracked him down to Uruguay and murdered him to keep him from talking. After they abducted Mr. Masterson and later murdered her husband."

"So what, Charles?" the President demanded.

"I don't seem to be expressing myself very well, Mr. President," Montvale said. "Let me put it this way: These people, whoever they are, now know we're onto them. They have no idea what the major may have learned before he went to South America. They have no idea how much Lorimer may have told him before they were able to murder him. If they hoped to obtain the contents of Lorimer's safe, they failed. And they don't know what it did or did not contain, so they will presume the worst, and that it is now in our possession. Or, possibly worse, in the possession of parties unknown. They sent their assassins in to murder Lorimer and what we-what the major and his band-gave them in return were six dead assassins and an empty safe. And now that we know we're onto them, God only knows how soon it will be before someone comes to us."