W. Griffin: The Hostage

"Yes, it is. Who is this, please?"

"My name is Silvio. I'm the ambassador in Buenos Aires."

"How may I be of service, Mr. Ambassador?" Reynolds inquired. His voice sounded considerably more interested than it had been when he answered the telephone.

"I want you to prepare a memorandum of this call for the secretary of state. If she is available, get it to her now. I want her to have it, in any event, first thing in the morning. Is that going to pose any problems for you?"

"None at all, Mr. Ambassador."

"We have strong reason to believe that Mrs. Elizabeth Masterson, the wife of my chief of mission, J. Winslow Masterson, was kidnapped at approximately eight P.M., Buenos Aires time. Beyond that, little is known."

"My recorder is on, Mr. Ambassador," Reynolds interrupted. "I should have told you. Would you like me to turn it off and erase what it has?"

"No. A recording should help you prepare the memorandum."

"Yes, sir, it will. Thank you, sir."

"The federal police are aware of the situation," Silvio went on. "So it must be presumed that the minister of the interior and the foreign minister have been told. However, when-just now-I attempted to telephone the foreign minister to inform him officially, he was not available. His office told me they will have him call me as soon as he is available, but that I should not expect this to happen until tomorrow morning.

"I interpret this to mean that he does not feel he should discuss the situation with me until he learns more about it and/or discusses it with the President.

"All of my staff concerned with intelligence and legal matters are aware of the situation. Their consensus, with which I am in agreement, is that there is not presently enough intelligence to form a reasonable opinion as to motive. In other words, we do not know enough at this time to think that this is, or is not, a terrorist act, or that it is, or is not, an ordinary kidnapping, or may have some political implications.

"Mr. Kenneth Lowery, my security chief, has been directed to compile a report of what we know to this point, and that will be sent to Washington by satburst almost certainly within the hour.

"I will furnish the department either by telephone or by satburst with whatever information is developed as soon as it comes to me.

"I have spoken with Ambassador McGrory in Montevideo. He is presently determining if any of the FBI agents attached to his embassy have experience with kidnappings, etcetera, and if any of them do, he will immediately send them here."

He paused, then said, "I think that covers everything. Unless you can think of anything, Mr. Reynolds?"

"No, sir, Mr. Ambassador. I think you have everything in there. I'll get this to the secretary as soon as possible."

"In that connection, Mr. Reynolds, while I have no objection to an appropriate dissemination of what I'm reporting, I want your memorandum of this call to go directly to the secretary. You understand what I'm saying?"

"Yes, sir. Directly to the secretary. Not through channels."

"Thank you, Mr. Reynolds."

Ambassador Silvio hung up the secure telephone and picked up the one connected to the embassy switchboard. He punched one of the buttons.

"Silvio here. Will you have a car for me at the residence immediately, please? And inform Mr. Lowery that I will be going to Mr. Masterson's home?" [SEVEN] The Breakfast Room The Presidential Apartment The White House 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, NW Washington, D.C. 0815 21 July 2005 "Let me have that business about the diplomat's wife again, please," the President of the United States said to the deputy director of Central Intelligence, who had just finished delivering the Daily Intelligence Summary.

The DDCI read again the paragraph of the DIS reporting the kidnapping of Mrs. Masterson. It was essentially a condensation of the memorandum prepared by the Southern Cone desk officer for the secretary of state.

When he had finished, the President asked, "That's all we have?"

"We have just a little more, Mr. President, not in the DIS."

The President gestured, somewhat impatiently, with the fingers of his left hand, that he wanted to hear it.

"When I was at Langley earlier, Mr. President, our station chief in B.A. called. Five-thirty our time, six-thirty in B.A. I talked to him myself. He said that the Argentine cops were really active-the phrase he used was they 'had rounded up all the usual suspects'-and that there had been no word from the kidnappers, and that two FBI agents from the Montevideo embassy had been on the first flight."

"What's that about?"

"Apparently there are no FBI agents in the B.A. embassy, Mr. President. There's half a dozen in Montevideo."

"What the hell is this all about, Ted?" the President asked.

"I just don't know, Mr. President. But I'm sure there will be more details very soon."

"My curiosity is in high gear," the President said.

"Mine, too, Mr. President. It sounds wacko, frankly. If you'd like, I can call you whenever I hear something else."

"Do that, Ted, please."

"Yes, sir. Will that be all, Mr. President?"

"Unless you'd like another cup of coffee."

"I'll pass, thank you just the same, Mr. President."

"Thanks, Ted," the President said.

The President watched as the DDCI left the room, and then-almost visibly making a decision as he did so-topped off his coffee cup.

"What the hell, why not?" he asked aloud, and picked up the telephone.

"Will you get me the secretary of state, please?" "Good morning, Mr. President," Dr. Natalie Cohen answered her phone.

"Natalie, you want to give me your take on that diplomat's wife who got kidnapped in Argentina?"

"That made the DIS, did it?"

"Uh-huh. What's going on?"

"I talked to the ambassador late last night, Mr. President. He-I guess I should say 'they'-don't know very much. He said kidnapping down there is a cottage industry, and he hopes that's all it is. I told him to call me with any developments, but so far he hasn't."

"At the risk of sounding insensitive, I could understand some lunatic trying to assassinate the ambassador, or this woman's husband, but…"

"The ambassador said just about the same thing, Mr. President. He can't understand it, either."

"Ted Sawyer said the CIA guy down there called this morning and said the embassy in Uruguay had sent a couple of FBI agents from the embassy there. How come we don't have FBI agents in Buenos Aires? That embassy is bigger than the one in Uruguay, right?"

"The money laundering takes place in Uruguay; that's where they need the FBI."

"He also said the Argentines had really mobilized their police."

"The ambassador told me that, too. It's embarrassing for them, Mr. President."

"I had an unpleasant thought just before I called you. We don't pay ransom, do we?"

"No, sir, we don't. That's a Presidential Order. Goes back to Nixon, I think."

"So the best we can hope for-presuming that this is just a kidnapping, and not a political slash terrorist act- is that once these people realize they've kidnapped a diplomat's wife and the heat is really going to be on, that they'll let her go?"

"That's one possibility, Mr. President, that they'll let her go."

He took her meaning.

"Jesus Christ, Natalie, you think they'd…"

"I'm afraid that's also a possibility, Mr. President," she said.

"What odds are you giving?"

"Fifty-fifty. That's for their turning her loose unharmed. I would give seventy-thirty that the cops will catch them."

"I told Sawyer I want to be in the loop. Will you keep me advised?"

"Yes, sir. Of course."

"Among other things we don't need is terrorists deciding that kidnapping our diplomats' wives is a good- and probably easy-thing to be doing."