W. Griffin - The Hostage

"We met."

"Since you're talking about me, I wish you'd do it in English, Charley," Britton said.

"Sorry," Charley said, now in English. "It seems that Special Agent Solez is not only a fellow Texican, but his family and mine have been friends for generations."

"My dad is chief engineer for Castillo Properties," Solez said with pride. "Everything but the petroleum side."

Britton looked at him and nodded.

"Okay," Castillo went on, "from the time Special Agent Schneider gets out of the operating room until I can get her the hell out of here, I want one or the other, preferably both, sitting on her."

"You got it," Britton said. Solez nodded.

"There will be SIDE people with you, of course," Munz said.

Both Britton and Solez nodded.

Castillo turned to the Marine corporal and looked closely at him for the first time. He was no more than five feet four or five and weighed no more than one-forty. He looked to be about seventeen years old.

I thought Marines on embassy duty had to be five-eleven and one-eighty or better. Where did this little guy come from?

Oh, yeah. Rule of War Thirteen B: "Every military organization with an authorized strength of two or more men will have a designated paper pusher."

This little guy is the Marine guard detachment clerk, pressed into duty as a driver.

"You're the driver, right, Corporal?"

The corporal came to attention.

"No, sir. The driver is with the car, sir. The gunny instructed me to tell you, sir, that an armored car was not immediately available, and to suggest you take appropriate precautions until one can be found for you."

"Okay."

"My name is Corporal Lester Bradley, sir. I am your bodyguard, sir."

For a moment there was silence, and then Jack Britton was suddenly overwhelmed with a coughing fit. Colonel Munz, his face turned red, and DEA Special Agent Solez became suddenly fascinated with the X-rays on display.

Major C. G. Castillo-after covering his mouth with his hand so it would not be obvious he was biting his lip as hard as he could; one chuckle, the hint of a giggle, from him, or anyone else, would trigger something close to hysterics in everybody-finally decided he could trust his voice.

"Well, I'm glad to have you, Corporal," he said. "I know how reliable the Marines are."

"Semper fi, sir," Corporal Lester Bradley said sincerely.

Colonel Munz turned from his examination of the X-rays, and probably not trusting himself to speak, signaled with a nod of his head toward the door that he wanted a private word with Castillo.

"Excuse me a minute, guys. I'll be right back," Castillo said, and followed Munz into the corridor.

Munz put his hand on Castillo's arm.

"Now that you're under the protection of the U.S. Corps of Marines, Karl, would you mind if I left you?"

"Don't underestimate the Marines, Alfredo. They're nice people to have in your corner."

"Are they all like that boy?"

"They are not often troubled with self-doubt," Charley said.

"And neither should you be, Karl," Munz said seriously. "I've been practicing our trade for a while, and I have met very few people with your natural talent for it."

"I take that as a great compliment, Alfredo."

"It was meant as one. Listen to me, Karl. Don't let what happened in there bother you…"

He means my almost taking a dive.

"… There would be something wrong with a man who, looking at a bullet in the skull of the woman he loves-a bullet which, but for God's mercy, would have taken her life-was not affected as you were."

Castillo met his eyes but said nothing.

Munz squeezed his arm.

"And pay attention to what your bodyguard said about your not having an armored car," Munz said with a smile. "I presume you'll be going to your embassy?"

Why not? Dr. Santa Claus said Betty'll be in there two hours. And I'm going to have to talk to Washington on a secure line.

Castillo nodded. "I took that to heart."

"There will be a SIDE car with you," Munz said, and then offered Castillo his hand. "Goodbye, Karl."

Goodbye? What does he mean by that?

"Thanks for everything, Alfredo."

"I will pray for your lady, Karl," Munz said, touched Castillo's shoulder, then walked quickly down the corridor to the elevator.

Charley went back in the office, told Britton and Solez he was going to the embassy and to call him if there was any word at all, and then-under the careful watch of Corporal Bradley, his bodyguard-went to the basement and got in the unarmored embassy car.

On the way, his cellular went off, and he answered it with his heart in his throat. It was Ambassador Silvio, who told him that Mrs. Masterson wished to go ahead with the ceremony at the Catedral Metropolitana.

"I'm on the way to the embassy, sir. To get on the horn to Washington. Would you like me to wait until you get there?"

"Please, Charley. I'll be there in thirty minutes." [THREE] The United States Embassy Avenida Colombia 4300 Buenos Aires, Argentina 2040 24 July 2005 "White House."

"This is C. G. Castillo. I need to speak on a secure-"

"We've been waiting for your call, sir. Hold one, please." "Secretary Hall's office. Mrs. Kensington speaking."

"We have Mr. Castillo for Secretary Hall, Mrs. Kensington. This line is secure."

Mrs. Kensington pushed her intercom button, said, "Pick up, boss. It's Charley on a secure line," then dialed another number on the secure phone.

Charley listened as she said, "We have Secretary Hall and Mr. Castillo on a secure line for a conference call with Director Montvale."

Oh shit!

Charles W. Montvale, former deputy secretary of state, former secretary of the treasury, and former ambassador to the European Union, was the recently appointed United States director of national intelligence. The press had immediately dubbed him the "intel czar."

"Charles Montvale."

Oh, shit, again! He sounds like he's got his teeth clenched.

"Are you okay, Charley?" Secretary Hall asked as he came on the line.

"I'm well, thank you, Matt. And yourself?" Director Montvale said, a touch of condescending amusement in his voice.

"Castillo, are you on?" Hall asked. There was a touch of impatience in his voice.

"Yes, sir."

"Are you all right, Charley?"

"Yes, sir. I'm fine."

"And the girl?"

"She's in surgery now at the German Hospital. She took three hits-"

"Am I correct in assuming the third party to this call is Major Castillo?" Director Montvale interrupted. He still sounded amused.

"Yes, sir," Castillo said.

"I am Charles Montvale, Major. Do you know who I am?" Now his voice was serious.

"Yes, sir."

"The President has asked me to take your call, Major. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"This call is being recorded. You may proceed."

"Hold off, Charley," Matt Hall said icily. "Mr. Montvale, let's get some things clear between us before anyone says another word."

"Is there a problem?"

"Several, I'm afraid. For one thing, I don't like being informed that my call is being recorded. You said nothing about that when you told my executive assistant you wanted to listen to this call."

"Actually, it was my executive assistant who spoke with your executive assistant," Montvale said. "And recording my calls-especially calls of this nature-is standard procedure."

"It's not my standard procedure. I would like your assurance that the recording device has been turned off, that what has been recorded so far will be erased, and that there is no one privy to this call but the three of us."

"I intend to have the tape of this conversation available should the President ask for it when I report this telecom to him."

"Do I understand I don't have your assurance the recorder is being turned off?"