I wonder what he told you?

The car was now pa.s.sing the French emba.s.sy, its horn blowing steadily in short beeps. The driver ran the red light and nearly got clipped by a Fiat delivery truck going up Avenida 9 Julio. The Alfa Romeo made a squealing left turn onto 9 Julio, and then raced down the autopista in the extreme right lane, reserved for emergency vehicles.

"What's happened?" Castillo asked. "Where are we going?"

"The c.o.c.ksuckers shot Masterson," the driver said.

What did he say? They shot her? Oh, Jesus H. Christ!

But that sounded as if he meant him.

"Mrs. Masterson, you mean?"

"No. Masterson."

What the h.e.l.l?

"I thought Darby had somebody sitting on him."

"Yeah, he did. Me. I f.u.c.ked up big time."

They came to a row of tollbooths. Without slowing, still blowing the horn, the driver went through the right lane, despite the furious arm-waving of a policeman who saw him coming. The policeman jumped out of the way at the last minute and reached for his pistol.

"SIDE! SIDE! SIDE!" Colonel Munz shouted out his open window.

Christ, I hope that cop believes him!

There was no shot.

At least none that I can hear.

They came to a T in the road. Running another red light, the driver turned left, dodging between two enormous over-the-road tractor-trailers and then rapidly accelerating.

Castillo saw they were now on Avenida Presidente Castillo.

This is not a very elegant street to be named after a Castillo, El Presidente, or even one from San Antonio.

It was apparently the main route to the docks, and the roadway showed the effects of heavy-most probably grossly overloaded-trucks. The Alfa bottomed out every thirty seconds or so.

It was too noisy in the car to ask questions, and it would not have been wise to distract the driver's attention from the traffic.

Avenida Presidente Castillo took a bend to the left, then came to a stop sign, which the driver ignored, which almost saw them hit head-on by an enormous Scania tractor pulling a trailer with two containers on it.

Then another left, and another, and Castillo saw they were now on Avenida Tomas Edison. This was even rougher looking than Avenida Presidente Castillo. It was a two-lane road where the macadam had been mostly worn away from the cobblestones it had at one time covered. On their left were deserted warehouses, and on their right a decrepit port area, lined with rusting, derelict, and half-sunk riverboats.

And then there was a sea of flashing red-and-blue lights.

Four Policia Federal stood in the middle of the street, all of them with their hands up to stop them. Castillo saw a half dozen other cops taking barriers from the back of a truck.

The driver slammed on the brakes, slowing but not stopping.

Colonel Munz was now halfway out the rear window, waving his credentials and shouting, "SIDE! SIDE! SIDE!"

The policemen got out of the way; two of them saluted.

Fifty meters farther down the street an enormous- and enormously confident-Policia Federal sergeant held up his hand in casual arrogance to stop them.

The arrogance disappeared immediately when he recognized Munz.

"In there, mi coronel, mi coronel," he said, pointing to the sh.e.l.l of a deserted warehouse, the entire front of which was open, another thirty meters distant.

There were three police cars: one Policia Federal; a second from the Naval Prefecture, which has police power in the port; and a third from the Gendarmeria National. There were several unmarked cars, with flashing blue lights on their dashboards, and two ambulances, one from the German Hospital, the second from the Naval Prefecture.

Fifty yards past them, a huge tractor-trailer with a single,enormous container on it was stopped in the middle of the road, its stop and parking lights flashing.

When the driver slammed the brakes on and the Alfa Romeo screeched to a stop before the deserted warehouse, Castillo could see a taxicab parked nose-in against the rear wall of the building. There was a knot of seven or eight men, most of them in uniforms carrying the symbols of senior police officers, between the taxi and the front of the building.

Munz erupted from the backseat of the Alfa and marched purposefully toward them. Castillo and the driver got out and followed. The knot of police all turned to face him. Several of the senior police officers saluted.

"I sent word that nothing was to be touched until I got here," Munz announced. "I presume nothing has?"

"Mi coronel," a man in a navy uniform with the sleeve stripes of a commander said, "one of my men was first on the scene. Aside from reaching into the victim's pockets looking for identification, he touched nothing else." a man in a navy uniform with the sleeve stripes of a commander said, "one of my men was first on the scene. Aside from reaching into the victim's pockets looking for identification, he touched nothing else."

"Looking into his pockets to see if he had any money is more like it," the driver of the Alfa Romeo said softly, behind his hand, to Castillo.

One of the senior police officers said something to Munz that Castillo couldn't hear.

Colonel Munz's eyebrows went up in surprise.

"Where is he?" Munz demanded.

The Navy officer indicated a man in a khaki uniform standing uncomfortably near the street.

"Get him over here," Munz ordered. He pointed to a spot on the ground.

The command to have the Naval Prefecture policemancome over worked its way down the hierarchy of police officers, and finally one of them walked quickly toward the policeman.

Munz walked toward the taxi. Castillo started after him, and then the driver, and that started the police officers moving. Munz sensed this. He turned and held out his hand to stop them, then pointed at Castillo and the driver, signaling them they should-or were permitted to-go with him.

The right rear door of the taxi was open.

Munz stuck his head inside, looked around for a moment, and then pulled it out. He signaled that it was permitted for the driver and Castillo to have a look.

Castillo was closest and went first.

There was the smell of blood and the buzzing of flies.

J. Winslow Masterson was leaning against the far door, half sitting up. His eyes and mouth were open. There was one entrance wound in his temple, and to judge from the now dried blood on his neck, another entrance wound under the hair behind his ear.

The taxi driver was slumped over the wheel. The silver gray hair at the back of his skull was heavily matted with blood, and the back of his jacket was black with dried blood.

Castillo pulled his head out of the cab, met the Alfa driver's eyes, and said, "Sonofab.i.t.c.h!"

He heard another squeal of tires near the opening of the building, and when he looked saw Alex Darby open the door of an emba.s.sy BMW and get out.

Several policemen tried to stop him.

"Pa.s.s him!" Colonel Munz shouted in a voice that would have done credit to a drill sergeant. Then he started walking toward him.

Castillo heard Darby ask, "It's him?"

"I'm afraid it is," Munz said.

"And he's dead?"

Munz nodded. "Shot twice in the head."

"Where's Mrs. Masterson?" Darby asked.

Christ, I didn't even think of her!

Munz gestured toward the German Hospital ambulance.

Darby started toward the ambulance. Munz caught up with him.

"Alex, I think she's drugged," Munz said.

"Dammit! Who authorized that?" Darby demanded furiously.

"According to the first policeman on the scene, she was drugged when he got here."

"Presumably, there's a doctor with her?" Darby said.

"I think there's three doctors," Munz said. "I called the German Hospital myself."

Darby went to the ambulance, a large Mercedes van, pulled the door open, and climbed inside.

Castillo became aware the driver was now standing beside him.

"Darby's in the ambulance with Mrs. Masterson," Castillo said. "I heard Munz tell him she's drugged, was drugged when the Navy cop got here."

"s.h.i.t!" the driver said. "I make it two shots to the heads."

"I saw only one entrance wound in the cabdriver's head," Castillo said.

"I think there's two," the driver said, not argumentatively.

Darby came out of the ambulance and walked with Munz toward the taxi.

"Alex," the driver said, "I'm sorry."

"We're all sorry, Paul," Darby said.

Darby walked to the taxicab, looked inside for a long moment, and then walked back to where Munz, the driver, and Castillo were standing.

"Alex," Munz said, "I think she should be taken to the hospital. They can't determine what they gave her here."

"They told me," Darby said. "But I think the amba.s.sador would want to see her here. He's on the way."

"Of course," Munz said.

Darby looked at the driver.

"Paul?"

"It looks to me like an a.s.sa.s.sination," the driver said.

"You agree with that, Charley?" Darby asked.

"Could be. I don't know."

Another emba.s.sy BMW pulled up, and then a second. A tall, lithe, well-tailored man got out of the backseat, and another man got out of the front pa.s.senger seat.

That has to be the amba.s.sador, Castillo decided. Castillo decided. And the other guy his bodyguard. And the other guy his bodyguard.

"Well, here comes the amba.s.sador," the driver confirmed.

Ken Lowery, the emba.s.sy security officer, and three other men got out of the second BMW. One of the men was a burly Scandinavian type with a nearly shaven head.

Castillo decided he was one of the emba.s.sy's Marine guards.

Amba.s.sador Silvio and Lowery walked past the outer line of Argentine police. No one tried to stop them.

They must recognize them.

All the others stopped at the line of policemen.

Silvio walked up to them.

"Good morning," he said. "Bring me up to speed."

"Jack is in the taxi, Mr. Amba.s.sador," Darby said. "He has been shot twice in the head."

Silvio looked at Castillo but didn't say anything to him. "Excellency," Munz said, "permit me to be the first to express my most profound regrets."

"Thank you, Colonel," Silvio said in Spanish. "Does anyone know what's happened?"

Before anyone could form a reply, Silvio went on, "Mrs. Masterson?"