"Colonel," Castillo said, "remember when the Philadelphia cops turned up the intel that the guy who owned our 727 had sold another one to Costa Rica?"

"Oh, yeah."

"There they are," Charley said.

"No," Britton said. "There she she is. Betty put that together. I had nothing to do with it." is. Betty put that together. I had nothing to do with it."

"Betty Schneider and Jack Britton, now of the Secret Service," Castillo went on. "This is Colonel Jake Torine, who flew the 727 home from Costa Rica."

They shook hands.

"No, I haven't had breakfast, and yes, thank you, I could eat a bite," Torine said.

"I don't know how warm it still is," Castillo said, liftinga stainless-steel dome and revealing a pile of still-steaming scrambled eggs.

"Warm enough," Torine said and sat down.

He started spooning eggs onto a plate.

"So what's going on, Charley?" Torine asked.

Castillo handed him the Buenos Aires Herald. Buenos Aires Herald.

"This is what's been given out," he said. "Most of it's pretty accurate. I'll fill you in on what's not."

Torine took the newspaper and started to read.

Shaking his head as he swallowed his last bite of breakfast, Torine handed the Herald Herald back to Castillo. back to Castillo.

"There's an editorial, too," Castillo said. "Headlined THE NATION IS SHAMED."

"Should they be?" Torine asked.

"Embarra.s.sed, sure," Castillo said. "A diplomat's wife is kidnapped and then the diplomat gets blown away. That's not supposed to happen in a civilized nation. This isn't the Congo. But 'shamed' is a little strong. And G.o.d knows, they got their act in high gear the minute this happened to find out who did it.

"What we think happened is that Mrs. Masterson's kidnappers got in touch with him, set up a meeting, and he sneaked out of his house and went to meet them. And got himself blown away."

"Weren't they watching the house?" Torine asked, incredulously.

"They had cops and SIDE agents-you know what SIDE is?"

Torine nodded.

"So, not only cops and SIDE agents all over the place, but sitting in a car in front of his house at two in the morning when Masterson sneaked out was a CIA spook named Paul Sieno and Colonel Alfredo Munz, the head of SIDE."

"You think Masterson went to pay the ransom and something went wrong?"

"I just don't know. All I know is that Alex Darby, the station chief, Sieno-good guy, I knew him in Afghanistan; his cover is commercial attache and Alex says he's his best man-and Munz did the best they know how to make sure something like this didn't happen. And it did. I should throw in that Masterson was Darby's best friend."

"Jesus, what the h.e.l.l is this all about?"

"I wish to h.e.l.l I knew," Castillo said. "And one more thing, Colonel: These b.a.s.t.a.r.ds have something on Mrs. Masterson-maybe a threat to kill the kids, maybe something else-that's got her terrified."

"That's understandable, isn't it?"

"Surrounded by the emba.s.sy's security people, plus the CIA, the Secret Service, and SIDE, you'd think she'd feel protected enough to at least come up with a description of who grabbed her," Castillo said. "If we are to believe her, and I don't, she doesn't remember anything. That's one of the reasons I had them send Betty down here"-one of them, anyway-"to see if she can get close to her and come up with something."

Special Agent Schneider's mind apparently ran on a parallel path with one of them, anyway. one of them, anyway. Castillo felt the ball of her foot on his calf again, and when he looked at her, there was a hint of a smile on her lips and a naughty look in her eyes. Castillo felt the ball of her foot on his calf again, and when he looked at her, there was a hint of a smile on her lips and a naughty look in her eyes.

"The one question in my mind, ever since I heard about this, was whether it is terrorist-connected," Torine said.

"If it had just been a.s.sa.s.sinating Masterson, maybe. But if terrorists did it, they would have been boasting about it an hour after it happened. And I don't think they would have pa.s.sed up the opportunity to kill Mrs. Masterson when they had the chance."

Torine nodded his understanding.

"So what happens now?" he asked.

"We get her and the children out of Argentina just as soon as we can get her on your airplane. Have you got approach charts for Keesler Air Force Base?"

"Of course. Why Keesler?"

"Mrs. Masterson wants him buried in Mississippi. That's where he's from. The Mississippi Gulf Coast."

"General Naylor told me the President wants Mr. Masterson buried in Arlington."

"It's her call, isn't it?"

"Obviously. When do you think she'll be ready to leave?"

"I think-think, don't know-that they're going to release her from the hospital this morning. If I had my way, she'd go directly from the hospital to the airport. But I doubt that's going to happen. Maybe late tonight, which would put us into Keesler in the morning. But probably sometime tomorrow." don't know-that they're going to release her from the hospital this morning. If I had my way, she'd go directly from the hospital to the airport. But I doubt that's going to happen. Maybe late tonight, which would put us into Keesler in the morning. But probably sometime tomorrow."

"The defense attache told me the Argentines want to put the casket in the Catedral Metropolitana, so they can pay their respects," Torine said. "What's that?"

"I hadn't heard that," Castillo replied. "And I have no idea."

"It's like their national cathedral," Sergeant Roger Markham furnished. "Not far from the Casa Rosada, which is like their White House. Except it's pink. The Casa Rosada, I mean. The cathedral looks like what the Parthenon must have looked like before it fell down. Marble, I think."

"The Marines to the rescue," Castillo said. "Keep going, Roger."

"Well, it's their big-time church. San Martin-that general they call 'the Great Liberator'? He was a pal of Thomas Jefferson. Avenida Libertador is really named after him, like if we named Washington Square 'Father of Our Country Square.'"

"Fascinating," Colonel Torine said, managing to keep a straight face.

"They guard his tomb inside like we do the Unknown Soldier, twenty-four/seven. If they want to put Mr. Masterson's body in there, it's really an honor."

"You're right, Roger. And I can see why they'd want to do it, but I don't know how that's going to go down with Mrs. Masterson, not to mention my orders to get her and the kids out of here as quickly as possible."

He looked at Torine.

"What we're going to do now is go to the hospital and introduce Betty and Jack to her. I told you, she's frightened. It might be useful if you went along, if you'd be willing. Tell her the travel plans, you know, whatever might make her feel better."

"You don't have to ask, Charley," Colonel Torine said. "About that or anything else. General Naylor didn't like it much, I don't think, but he made it very clear that you're running this exercise."

"I hear a cell phone ringing," Betty announced.

Castillo patted his clothing as he remembered his was in the bedroom, then quickly got up and went to get it. That took some time, as it was in the pocket of the pants he had been wearing when Betty had come looking for her lost handkerchief, and had been kicked out of sight when Jack Britton had rung the door chimes.

As had, Castillo learned when he reached under the bed for them, Betty's bra.s.siere and underpants.

That means when she walked out of here, she wasn't wearing anything under her blue jeans and sweater!

A series of mental images flooded his mind.

G.o.ddammit, what's the matter with you? Answer the G.o.dd.a.m.n cellular!

By the time he'd gotten the telephone from his pocket, it was too late.

The phone, however, had captured the caller's number. He pushed the MISSED CALL key, then the DIAL key.

"Sylvia Grunblatt."

The emba.s.sy public information officer. What the h.e.l.l does she want?

"C. G. Castillo, Ms. Grunblatt. Were you trying to reach me?"

"Where are you?"

Not that it's any of your business, but- "I'm in the Four Seasons."

"According to them, they don't have anybody named Castillo registered. You want to tell me what that's all about?"

"How'd you get my cellular number?"

"Amba.s.sador Silvio gave it to me."

"How can I help you, Ms. Grunblatt?"

"The shoe's on the other foot. The press is onto you. Somebody around here has a big mouth."

"You want to explain that?"

"The New York Times New York Times guy wants to know about the President's agent, starting with his name, and so do CNN and AP and guy wants to know about the President's agent, starting with his name, and so do CNN and AP and La Nacion, La Nacion, ad infinitum. What do I tell them?" ad infinitum. What do I tell them?"

"You have no idea what they're talking about."

"They're not going to believe that, and they're not going to like it."

"Amba.s.sador Silvio told me you're a first-cla.s.s press officer. You'll think of something."

"I can hear them now," she said. " 'Are you trying to tell me, Sylvia, that my source was lying to me?' "

"To which you respond, 'I cannot vouch for your unnamed sources. I can only tell you what I have been told.'"

"To which they will respond, 'Oh, bovine excreta, Sylvia,' or words to that effect."

"Sylvia, I'm sorry, but your splendid relations with the press are going to have to be sacrificed for operational requirements."

"I was afraid of that," she said. "The amba.s.sador said I was to handle this any way you wanted."

"The one thing I don't need is my name, picture, or the words 'Presidential Agent' in the newspapers or on the tube."

"Okay, you got it. But be warned, they'll be looking for you. Since there are-with one exception-no other developments in the story, you-the President's agent- are the story."

"What's the one exception?"

"Presuming the amba.s.sador can get Mrs. Masterson to go along-he hasn't asked her yet-the Argentines want to pin the Grand Cross of the Great Liberator on Jack's casket, which at the time will be lying in state in the Catedral Metropolitana. If she goes along-and she might not; if I were her I think I'd tell the Argentines to go p.i.s.s up a rope-that will be a spectacle. The press- especially TV-likes spectacles, and that may get some of the heat off you."

"I was about to go to the German Hospital," Castillo said.

"You got somebody from SIDE with you who can get you in the back door? Otherwise be prepared for celebrity."

"How will they know what I look like?"

"The leak about the President's agent was intentional. I think it follows they would have also leaked a description."

"You have any idea who the leaker is?"

"If I had to bet, I'd bet it was one of the law enforcement types . . ."

Yeah, Castillo thought, Castillo thought, and I'll bet the b.a.s.t.a.r.d's name is Yung. and I'll bet the b.a.s.t.a.r.d's name is Yung.

". . . but nothing more specific than that. If I can get the name, you want it?"

"Indeed I do."

"I was hoping you would."

"Why?"

"Because I ran out of imagination after I thought castration would be a suitable punishment for the sonofab.i.t.c.h, and I'm sure you can think of something more exquisitely painful."

"Indeed I can."

"Stay in touch, please, Mr. X."

"Thanks, Sylvia."

Castillo put the cellular in his trousers pocket, whereupon it immediately rang again.