W. Griffin - The Hostage

"I met him once, years ago," Silvio said. "He has some sort of liaison, coordination-of-agencies job in Paris. I was thinking of perhaps trying to get in touch with him, so that he could break this news to his father, who has some sort of heart problem."

"Sir-Alex, do you know his name?"

"Lorimer," Alex said. "Jean-Pierre, Jean-Paul, something like that. French. The ambassador's-Betsy's father's-first name is Philippe."

"They're French?"

"Maybe way back, way way back, like Jack's family," Darby said. "Jack used to delight in telling people who hated the South that there were three Mastersons-'free men of color'-who were Confederate officers, two in the navy and one in the army. If he was really pulling their chain, he'd say the family had made its money in the slave trade."

Silvio chuckled.

"Was there money, Alex?" Castillo asked. "Before he was run over by the beer truck?"

"Not that kind of money, but yeah. Both families are more than-what's the word?-'comfortable.' Sugar, I think, and cotton. Growing it and dealing in it."

"Mr. Ambassador," Charley said, "I was going to suggest that you get in touch with the State Department and see if we can get a location, maybe even a telephone number, on the brother. In case we can't get that information from Mrs. Masterson."

"I'll get right on it," Silvio said, "and if you'd like, I'll go to the German Hospital with you and introduce you and Tony to Mrs. Masterson."

"Thank you, sir. That will be very helpful." [SIX] The German Hospital Avenida Pueyrredon Buenos Aires, Argentina 1305 23 July 2005 El Coronel Alfredo Munz of SIDE walked up to them as they entered the lobby of the hospital.

"Your Excellency, gentlemen," he said in Spanish. "What a fortunate happenstance. I was about to call Senor Castillo and ask if he could spare me a moment of his time."

"Fortunate happenstance," my ass. Munz wasn't surprised at all to see us. He was waiting for us, which means he knew we were coming here.

How did he do that?

He's got somebody inside the embassy, more than likely, to keep an eye on things generally and the ambassador in particular. Somebody who heard the ambassador call for his car to bring us here, or someone listening to that allegedly encrypted radio in his car, or Darby's, or maybe hearing the Marine guard calling Lowery to update him on the ambassador's location.

Why am I surprised? Both Darby and Santini told me SIDE's good, and with this business going on, they've got their act in high gear.

But what does he want with me?

"Mi coronel, I am at your disposal," Castillo said, and then, to the ambassador, "Sir, why don't you go up to Mrs. Masterson's room? I know where it is and I can catch up with you." Munz led Castillo to a corner of the lobby.

"You have at once greatly disappointed several important people in the Ministry of Information, Herr Gossinger," Munz said in German, "and added a little excitement to what I'm sure you and I would both regard as their rather boring and mundane lives."

Oh, shit. He found out I entered the country as Gossinger.

And I never went to the Ministry of Information to register as a journalist.

Castillo smiled at him.

"How is that, Herr Oberst?" he replied in German.

Munz handed him a sheet of paper. It was a copy of the immigration form Castillo had filled out on the airplane and handed to the immigration officer at the airport. It also had his photograph, obviously taken by a good and unobtrusive camera as he stood at the immigration booth.

"They so wanted to explain to a prominent German journalist how concerned the Argentine government is with this sad situation, and then, when you failed to show up at the Ministry of Information, as you promised to do, they thought that perhaps this German fellow had something to do with the villains we're looking for."

"Actually, my name is Gossinger," Charley began.

"I know. I took the trouble to find out. The German embassy told me you are not only a distinguished foreign correspondent for the Tages Zeitung, but the great-great-grandson of the founder. What a wonderful cover! A second persona that is real."

"I feel like a kid caught with my hand in the cookie jar. What happens now?"

"I've assured them that not only have I informed you of our efforts to get to the bottom of this situation, but also that I told you it would be unnecessary to register with the Ministry of Information. There is no longer a problem."

"Thank you."

"And I have this for you, too."

He handed him a small, plastic-covered card. It read "Corps Diplomatique" and had his photograph and Gossinger's name on it.

"A diplomatic carnet, in case one of our ever-alert police would ask why you're carrying a pistol."

"A pistol?"

"Actually, it was my intention to loan you one, but I see under your suit coat that you're already carrying one in the small of your back."

"The ambassador lent it to me."

"Karl-you don't mind if I call you 'Karl,' do you?"

"Herr Oberst, you may call me anything you wish."

"There are some very dangerous people here in Argentina, I'm afraid, and I'm not talking about our cottage kidnapping industry. I haven't been able to come up with any connection between Herr Masterson and them-from what I have, he's, in that charming North American phrase, 'Mr. Clean'-but that doesn't mean there isn't one. And these people have proven that murder is just part of their game. I would be very sorry if they decided to eliminate you."

"You don't think this is a kidnapping, do you?"

"Do you?"

"Well, they abducted her, so that's a kidnapping. But it smells."

"Yes, it does. You have no ideas whatever?"

"None."

"If you did, would you tell me?"

Castillo met his eyes.

"Yes, I would. Between us, what did you think when Mrs. Masterson was being… I guess the word is 'interrogated' by Darby and Lowery?"

"I would not describe her responses as fully forthcoming."

"What do you think she's hiding?"

"There may be more to it than this, but the first thing that came to my mind was that they threatened her- probably her children-if she revealed anything she had learned about them."

"Why didn't they kill her?"

"They want something from her. Maybe Masterson didn't bring the ransom with him. And they are threatening to kill the children if she doesn't get it to them. I just don't know."

"Tony Santini is an experienced Secret Service agent-"

"I know. Did he really injure himself falling off the President's limousine?"

Castillo thought a moment before replying, "The Vice President's limousine."

"How embarrassing for him!"

"Anyway," Charley said, ignoring the subject, "the ambassador's going to introduce him as the Secret Service man assigned to protect her and the children, and he's going to use that to see what he can get out of her."

"And is he going to tell her of your appointment as the generalissimo in charge?"

"You heard about that, too, did you, Alfredo?"

"Like yourself, Karl, I'm sure, I like to keep my ear to the grindstone."

"Nose to the grindstone, ear to the ground," Castillo smilingly corrected him.

"Thank you," Munz said.

"There's a planeload of FBI agents on their way down here to assist in the investigation. And two Secret Service agents to assist me. One is a really bright female with a good deal of experience in intelligence. I'm going to put her on the protection detail, hoping she'll be able to get to Mrs. Masterson. The other one is a very good, street-smart cop who worked under deep cover in really bad situations for years. I'm going to have him look at what the FBI comes up with, and I would be grateful if you would let him see what you've come up with."

"Certainly, but there's not much."

"There's also an Air Force transport on its way to transport Masterson's body and his family home."