W. Griffin - The Hostage

"Are you going with them?"

Jesus, I never thought about that!

"Maybe. But if I do, I have the feeling that I'll be coming back."

Munz nodded, then put out his hand.

"I'm glad we had this chance to chat, Karl."

"Thank you for everything, Alfredo." [SEVEN] Mrs. Elizabeth Masterson was not in the intensive care room where she had first been placed, but Castillo had no trouble in finding the room to which she had been moved. There were four uniformed Policia Federal, under the command of a sergeant, and two men in civilian clothing-one of them Paul Sieno, the CIA agent- hovering around a door near the end of the corridor.

Sieno nodded at Castillo, who then knocked on the door. A moment later, Ambassador Silvio opened it a crack, and then all the way.

"Come in, Mr. Castillo," he said, and as Castillo went through the door, the ambassador went on, "Betsy, here's Mr. Castillo."

Mrs. Masterson was sitting up in a hospital bed. She was in a nightgown that had to be hers from home, and Castillo saw there were two other women in the room, almost certainly Darby's wife and the ambassador's. They were sitting in chairs along the wall, and Darby and Santini were leaning on the wall next to them.

Castillo walked up to the bed.

"The President has asked me to tell you how terribly sorry he is, Mrs. Masterson."

That little lie came quickly to my lips, didn't it?

Well, if the President had thought about it, he would have.

"That's very kind of him," Mrs. Masterson said. She did not offer her hand and her smile was visibly an effort.

"And if I may, I would like to offer my own condolences."

When there was no response to this except the frozen smile, Castillo went on, "My orders, ma'am, are first to absolutely guarantee your safety, and that of your children, and then to get you to the United States just as quickly and as safely as possible."

The smile remained fixed, and she said nothing.

"Has Ambassador Silvio told you that Mr. Santini has many years' experience on the Secret Service Presidential Protection Detail?"

"Yes, he has."

"And the Argentine authorities have provided us with some of their very best men to help Mr. Santini."

"So the ambassador has told me."

"We hope to have word very soon about the arrival of the aircraft the President has sent down here. One of them is a transport, which will carry you and your family to the United States just as soon as you feel up to it, and the other is bringing both a team of FBI experts to assist in the investigation, and two Secret Service agents for your protection detail. One of them is a female agent."

Mrs. Masterson nodded.

"I'm very much aware, Mrs. Masterson, that this is a difficult time for you…"

Mrs. Masterson snorted.

"… but I hope you'll understand that certain plans have to be made."

"Such as?"

"Where in the United States would you like to go?"

"Keesler," she said. "Keesler Air Force Base in Biloxi is closest to Jack's parents' home. In Pass Christian."

"Pass Chris-tee-ann"? That's the French pronunciation. And while I'm on that subject… what about her brother, who's supposed to be in France?

"Is there someone there, in Pass Christian, who we can contact? Your father?"

"My father lives in Metairie-New Orleans. And he has a heart condition. My father-in-law lives in Pass Christian. I really think he'd be the man to break this to my father. I was just talking about that, frankly, with Mrs. Silvio when you came in, Mr. Castillo. She's going to call Jack's father, or the ambassador is, just as soon as they can get to a phone. I hope they can get through to him before he sees it on CNN or Fox. And then I'll call him, of course, when they let me out of here."

"Have they told you when that's going to be?"

"They want to keep me overnight for observation," she said, then turned to the ambassador. "Juan, can't you do something about that? I want to be with the children."

"I understand," Silvio said. "But they really want to look for signs of whatever that drug might have done to you. If you'd like, we can bring the kids here to see you."

"No. I don't want them to see me like this. They're better off with Julia."

Julia, presumably, is Darby's wife.

"They're in school now?" Castillo asked.

"Their father has just been murdered," she snapped. "Of course they're not in school."

"Forgive me," Castillo said.

Then the other woman is Lowery's wife; Darby's wife- Julia, the old friend of the family-is with the kids.

"Is there anyone else, ma'am, that we should contact?"

"No. I'll notify everyone just as soon as I'm out of here."

That "no" came really quick. Wouldn't she want to tell her brother, even if he didn't get along with her husband?

"Mrs. Masterson, I won't intrude on your grief anymore. If there's anything you need, all you'll have to do is tell Mr. Santini."

"Thank you."

Castillo nodded at the people in the room and walked out.

He had taken half a dozen steps to the elevator when Ambassador Silvio caught up with him. Santini was on the ambassador's heels.

"I'm forced to agree with you, Mr. Cas-Charley," Silvio said. "She's concealing something."

"I got nowhere with her, either," Santini said.

"Mr. Ambassador, she didn't even mention her brother," Castillo said. "Would you be willing to try to get him on the telephone?"

"I thought that was odd, too," Silvio agreed. "I'll put a call in to him just as soon as I get back to the embassy. Where will you be?"

"At the embassy, sir. I want to get the ETAs of the airplanes."

"Then I'll see you there." [EIGHT] The United States Embassy Avenida Colombia 4300 Palermo, Buenos Aires, Argentina 1450 23 July 2005 It was a frustrating forty-five minutes on the telephone.

Even getting the number of the United Nations European directorate of interagency coordination was frustrating. The Buenos Aires international operator had trouble first connecting to and then communicating with the Paris information operator.

Silvio gave up on that and called the American embassy in Paris. The political attache had somewhat reluctantly-and only after Silvio had proven to him who he was-provided a listing for the directorate, but said he had neither an address nor a number for a Jean-Paul Lorimer.

A somewhat nasal-voiced French woman at the directorate told Silvio-whose French was fluent-that M'sieu Lorimer was out of the office, that she had no number at which he could be reached, and that any further inquiries should be directed to the director of information. She was unmoved by Silvio's announcement that he was the United States ambassador to Argentina, and was trying to contact Lorimer because there had been a death in the family.

The only address and telephone number the State Department in Washington and the United States Mission to the United Nations in New York City had for Lorimer was his office.

"Let me see what the Secret Service can do, sir," Castillo said, finally, and started to punch in Isaacson's number in Washington on his cell phone.

"You don't want to get a secure line?"

"What's classified?" Castillo said, and immediately added, "I didn't mean to sound flip, sir. Sorry."

"I didn't think you were being flip," Silvio said. "It was a dumb question."

"Isaacson."

"Charley, Joel."

"I see we're being telepathic again," Isaacson replied. "I was just about to call you about the FBI plane-on which, I'm sure you'll be thrilled to hear, Casanova, is the beauteous Agent Schneider-and the C-17."

"You didn't say something allegedly witty to her, did you, Joel?"

"No, but I was sorely tempted. She really is a delight to the eyes, and I felt duty-bound to warn her about you."

"Tell me about the airplanes."