W. Griffin - The Hostage

"Mr. President," Ambassador Montvale asked, "may I ask what my relationship to the major will be?"

"I'm glad you asked, Charles," the President said. "Let's make sure everyone understands this. It also applies to Natalie and Tom, of course, and to the other secretariesand the attorney general. You, and they, will provide to him whatever he feels is necessary to carry out the mission I have given to him. But he answers only to me. Everyone clear on that?"

"There are some potential problems that immediately come-"

"Charles, you can discuss those with Major Castillo," the President interrupted. "You did hear me say, didn't you, that this is not open for debate?"

"Yes, I did, Mr. President."

"Okay, this is Ground Zero," the President said. "What I would like now is for Major Castillo to tell us where he believes we are, and where he's going from here." He looked at Castillo. "Okay, Charley, go ahead."

Castillo realized that he was sitting erectly on the edge of the armchair seat, like any other junior determined not to miss a word of what would be said by the President or any of the others so vastly senior to a major.

As a Pavlovian reflex he started to stand up as a mark of respect and subordination to those seniors.

Wait a minute!

If I do that, it will signal that a lowly major is delivering a report to his seniors that they can consider with their greater wisdom and accept or reject.

I don't think the President wants me to do that.

Instead of standing up he slumped back in the chair and crossed his interlocked hands on his chest, as if gathering his thoughts, which happened to be true.

He saw that General Naylor and Colonel Torine were looking at him incredulously.

Well, let's see if I can get away with this.

"Mr. President," he began, sitting up, "when Mrs. Masterson was being interviewed at the German Hospital by Mr. Darby, who is the CIA station chief in Argentina and was a close friend of the Mastersons, she professed to know absolutely nothing about her abductors. I thought she was lying-"

"You decided, Major, that she was lying?" Montvale interrupted incredulously.

"Yes, Ambassador Montvale, I did," Charley said, meeting his eyes. "And later, both Mr. Darby and Ambassador Silvio agreed with that judgment."

"Lying about what, Charley?" the President asked.

"More of an omission, sir, than a mistruth. She said she could recall no details whatever of her abduction. I didn't believe that."

"The woman," Montvale said, "was obviously under the most severe-"

The President held up his hand to silence Montvale.

Castillo looked at the President, then continued: "Just before we took off from Ezeiza-the Buenos Aires airport-I gave Mrs. Masterson the medal, the Grand Cross of the Great Liberator, which had been pinned to the colors on Mr. Masterson's casket by the President of Argentina. She expressed to me her regret for Sergeant Markham's death and the wounds suffered by Special Agent Schneider. I'm afraid I was less than gracious to her. I had just come from the hospital, where Special Agent Schneider was lying in pain with her jaw wired shut, and sixty seconds before, I had walked past Sergeant Markham's casket.

"What I said to her, in effect, was that if she had been truthful, I thought Markham would still be alive and Schneider would not have been wounded."

"You called her a liar to her face, Charley?" Natalie Cohen asked in sad disbelief.

"Yes, ma'am. I'm afraid I did."

"And what was her reaction?" the President asked, softly.

"Not much at the time, sir, but just now, just before we came here, she came to me again, and said that now that she was in the United States, she could talk. She told me that her abductors wanted her to tell them where her brother is-"

"Her brother?" the President asked.

"Jean-Paul Lorimer, sir. He works for the United Nations in Paris. Mrs. Masterson said her abductors threatened to kill her children if she didn't tell them, and to kill the children and her family if she revealed any of this. And they murdered Mr. Masterson to prove they meant what they were saying."

"Sonofabitch!" the President of the United States said.

"Mr. President," Natalie Cohen said, "we've been trying to find Mr. Lorimer for several days without success. All we know is that he's not in his apartment and hasn't been in his office."

"Mrs. Masterson said she had no idea where her brother is," Castillo said.

"And why do you think, Major," Montvale asked, "that Mrs. Masterson chose to confide in you, rather than in, say, Ambassador Silvio or her friend the CIA station chief?"

"Probably because we had just landed in the United States," Castillo said.

"If I may, Mr. President?" Colonel Torine asked.

The President waved his permission.

"I was privy to the conversation between Major Castillo and Mrs. Masterson just now," Torine said. "And the reason she gave for her going to Major Castillo was because she believed what Mr. Darby had told her about Major Castillo."

"And that was?" Montvale asked.

"Apparently, sir," Torine replied, "Mr. Darby told Mrs. Masterson that he believes that Major Castillo is- this is just about verbatim from Mrs. Masterson-'one really tough sonofabitch, and just the guy you need in your corner when you're really in trouble.'"

The President cocked his head and smiled. "Well, for once I find myself in complete agreement with the opinion of a CIA station chief. That pretty much answer your question, Charles?"

"Yes, it does, Mr. President."

Castillo saw that General Naylor was quietly coughing behind his hand. From long experience, Castillo knew he did this when he wanted to conceal a smile.

When Castillo glanced at Secretary Hall, Hall winked at him and didn't bother to try to conceal his smile.

Up yours, Ambassador Montvale, you pompous sonofabitch! Charley thought, then caught himself.

There you go again, stupid!

If there's anybody you should try to get along with, it's Charles Montvale, the director of national intelligence.

You haven't been in his presence ten minutes and he's already decided-probably with justification-that C. G. Castillo is one arrogant little sonofabitch who needs to be cut down to size as quickly as possible.

The worst thing you can do to a guy like Montvale is humiliate him in the presence of his peers and the President of the United States. He's not going to forget or forgive that.

"Why do you think these people want the brother, Charley?" the President asked. "And who do you think they are?"

"I have no idea, Mr. President," Castillo confessed. "But I think talking to him-presuming I can find him- is the next thing I should do."

"And the UN says they don't know where he is, Natalie?" the President asked.

"We wanted to contact him when Mrs. Masterson was abducted, so that he could deal with the family, as their father, Ambassador Lorimer, has serious heart problems. Nothing. And all our embassy in Paris has been able to come up with is that his car is in his garage, his clothing is in his apartment, and it looks like he's just taken a trip or something. Apparently, he's pretty much his own boss, going wherever he wants, whenever he wants."

"These people have killed to show how much they want this fellow," the President said. "So his life is in danger. Are you going to tell the UN that? Would that get them off the dime?"

"Sir, I presume that the UN, in New York and Paris, knows of the Masterson murder."

"But not what Mrs. Masterson told Charley, right?"

"No, sir. I'll get on the horn right now to our UN ambassador and have him pass that on if you think I should."

"I wish you wouldn't," Castillo blurted.

"Why not?" Natalie Cohen asked curiously, not offended.

"I have a gut feeling it's the wrong thing to do."