W. Griffin - The Hostage

"If you say so," Special Agent Yung said. He turned to Castillo. "When do you want to see Ambassador McGrory?"

"I don't need to see him," Castillo said.

"He wants to see you."

"I don't need to see him, at least not today."

"He wants to see you."

"So you said."

"You are aware, aren't you, Mr. Castillo, that the ambassador is the man in charge of all U.S. government activities in the country to which he is accredited?"

"So I've heard," Castillo said. "We'll talk about this when we have some privacy."

Yung didn't reply. Yung had a spacious, top-floor apartment in a three-story building on the Rambla, the waterfront highway between Carrasco and Montevideo, to the south.

Yung waved them, not very graciously, into chairs in the living room.

"All right, Mr. Castillo, what can I do for you? I'm sure you'll understand that I am obliged to report to Ambassador McGrory what may be discussed."

"Special Agent Yung," Castillo said icily, "I am now going to show you my credentials identifying me as a supervisory agent of the United States Secret Service."

He got out of his chair and held his credentials in front of Yung, who examined them and then nodded.

"Are you satisfied that I am Supervisory Special Agent Carlos G. Castillo of the United States Secret Service, Special Agent Yung?"

"I'm satisfied," Yung said.

"These gentlemen, Special Agents Anthony J. Santini and John M. Britton of the Secret Service, will now show you their credentials. When you are satisfied they are who I am telling you they are, please say so."

Santini and then Britton got out of their chairs, walked to Yung, showed him their credentials, waited until he nodded, and then went back to their chairs.

"Are you satisfied, Special Agent Yung, that we are all who I am telling you we are?"

"I'm satisfied. Are you going to tell me what-"

"Gentlemen," Castillo interrupted him. "I want you to make note that at zero-eight-one-zero hours, local time, 29 July 2005, in his residence in Carrasco, Uruguay, we identified ourselves to Special Agent Yung as members of the U.S. Secret Service by showing him our credentials, and he acknowledged their validity."

Santini and Britton nodded.

"Special Agent Yung, what I am about to tell you is classified as Top Secret-Presidential. The unauthorized disclosure of any of this information to any person not authorized by the President, or myself, to have access to this material, and that specifically includes Ambassador McGrory, is a felony under the United States Code. Do you understand all that I have said?"

"You're telling me I can't report this to Ambassador McGrory? Frankly, Castillo, I don't believe you have that authority."

"In the vernacular, Special Agent Yung, I don't give a flying fuck what you believe or don't believe. The question was whether or not you understood what I said to you."

"I understood it."

"Good. I now inform you that I am the chief of the Office of Organizational Analysis-"

"The what?"

"… which is a covert and clandestine organization set up in a Presidential Finding within the Department of Homeland Security and is charged with locating the assassins of J. Winslow Masterson and Sergeant Roger Markham, USMC, and rendering them harmless. Do you understand that?"

"That sounds as if you plan to… kill them."

"The question was, do you understand what I have just said?"

"There's nothing wrong with my hearing."

"To carry out this mission, it is necessary for us to find one Jean-Paul Lorimer, an American citizen employed by the UN, who I have reason to believe is somewhere in this area."

"I told you before, I never heard of him."

"Aware of my mission, the secretary of state, for whom you work, has relayed through either or both Ambassadors McGrory and Silvio her orders to you to place yourself and whatever information you may have at my disposal. You have received those orders, have you not?"

"Ambassador McGrory told me that you were going to come to me, and that I was to cooperate with you as much as possible," Yung said. "And that if you came to me directly, instead of through the embassy, I was to tell you he wanted to see you. Immediately."

"With the implication that you didn't have to cooperate with me unless he knew what this is about? And until he gave his permission?"

"For Christ's sake, Castillo, he's the ambassador."

"Tony, see if you can get Ambassador Silvio on your cellular," Castillo ordered.

"I work for Ambassador McGrory, not Silvio," Yung said.

"No, you don't. You work for the State Department's bureau of intelligence and research. Doing something so secret that the secretary of state didn't know about it until the day before yesterday," Castillo said.

Castillo could see a flicker of surprise on Yung's face.

"Did you tell McGrory what you're really doing down here?"

Yung didn't reply.

"Okay, that explains a lot. You didn't tell McGrory what you're really doing, so he thinks you're just one more legal attache working for him. Right?"

"I've got the ambassador, Charley," Santini said.

"That was quick," Castillo said as he reached for the telephone.

"The miracle of modern communications," Santini said.

"Good morning, Mr. Ambassador. I'm on a cellular, so we're going to have to be careful what we're saying. I'm in Montevideo-actually, Carrasco-with Special Agent Yung. What I hope you'll be willing to do is relay the message from our friend Natalie to Yung. When the other fellow did that, it got a little garbled, and he's annoyed that I'm walking on his grass without his permission."

Ambassador Silvio replied briefly.

"Thank you, sir. I hope to see you shortly," Castillo said, and handed Yung the telephone.

"Special Agent Yung, Mr. Ambassador," Yung said.

He had the cellular to his ear for thirty seconds, and then he said, "Yes, sir, that's perfectly clear. That's not exactly the way I received the message here."

Ambassador Silvio said something else.

"Yes, sir," Yung said. "I understand, sir. Thank you very much, sir. Do you want to speak with Mr. Castillo again, sir?"

The ambassador apparently did not wish to again speak with Castillo. Yung ended the call and handed the cellular to Santini.

Yung smiled wryly at Castillo.

"After the ambassador relayed Secretary Cohen's message," he added, "he said, 'For purposes of clarification, Mr. Castillo has permission from the highest possible authority not only to walk on anybody's grass he wants but to sow it with salt if that's what he chooses to do.'"

Castillo chuckled and smiled and said, "Okay. You satisfied?"

Yung nodded.

"So what are you actually doing here? I know it's not looking for money launderers."

"You don't know?"

"No, I don't. But you're going to tell me, right?"

Yung nodded. "Actually, it has something to do with money laundering. But not to develop a case against money launderers."

"I don't think I follow you."

"How much do you know about the UN oil-for-food business?"

"A hell of a lot more now than I did a week ago," Castillo said. "What about it?"

"An astonishing number of people all over Europe and the Middle East-for that matter, all over the world- made a lot of money from that operation. Primarily Frenchmen-some very highly placed Frenchmen-and Germans. And Russians. It's an incredible amount of money, and like the Nazis in World War Two, they decided that South America, primarily the Southern Cone, is the place to hide it.

"The director of the bureau of intelligence and research started to build dossiers on these people even before the Second Desert War. Using his own people, I mean. And it got out. There's a lot of one-worlders, UN lovers, in the State Department. They think that leaking things is their patriotic duty. So he, quote, called off, end quote, the investigation. And then he went to the director of the FBI-they were both FBI agents as young men-and explained the situation and asked for help. And here I am."