"One more thing, sir. I would-"

"Let me interrupt," Silvio said. "Forgive me. How do you want to handle telling Washington? Would you like to do that yourself? I'll have to call the State Department, obviously. Would you like to meet me at the emba.s.sy after I speak with Mrs. Masterson?"

"I'm going to call Washington as soon as I can, reporting what happened . . ."

"From the emba.s.sy?"

"On this phone."

"Not on a secure line?"

"If they want me on a secure line, I'll tell them I'll go to the emba.s.sy as soon as I can. Which will be after I learn Betty Schneider's condition."

"I understand how you feel," Silvio said. "But I really think they're going to want you on a secure line as soon as possible."

"And as soon as possible, I'll get on a secure line," Castillo said simply.

There was a perceptible hesitation before Silvio went on: "You said there was one more thing?"

"Two, now that I think about it. I would be personallygrateful if you could send one or more Marines right now to the Sante Fe Circle to be with, and stay with, Sergeant Markham's body. If it's gone when they get there, tell them to go to the German Hospital. The Marines take pride in never leaving anybody behind, and Roger was one h.e.l.l of a Marine."

"I'll take care of that right away," Silvio said.

"And get a casket and a flag to the German Hospital. Roger will be on the Globemaster when it goes wheels-up tomorrow."

"I'll see that that's done."

"Thank you, sir."

"Let me know about Miss Schneider's condition as soon as you learn anything, will you, please?"

"Yes, sir. I will."

"We'll be talking, Charley."

"Yes, sir."

Castillo pressed the END key and then punched in a long series of numbers from memory.

"Department of Homeland Security. How may I direct your call?"

"Five, please."

"Secretary Hall's office. Mrs. Kensington."

"This is Charley, Mrs. K."

"Well, how are you?"

"Lousy. Is the boss there?"

"You just missed him, Charley."

"Good, I really didn't want to talk to him."

"Excuse me?"

"What about d.i.c.k Miller?"

"He's here. What's going on, Charley?"

"Get him on, please. Listen in. If you can, record it, so that you can play it back for the boss."

"Give me thirty seconds," Mrs. Kensington said.

Twenty-one seconds later Mrs. Kensington announced, "This telecon at five-ten P.M. Washington time July twenty-four, 2005, between C. G. Castillo, H. R. Miller, and Mary-Ellen Kensington, all of the Office of the Secretary of Homeland Security, is being recorded with the permission and knowledge of all parties thereto."

Major H. Richard Miller, Jr., came on the line. "What's going on, Charley?"

"You remember telling me not to do anything stupid with Betty Schneider?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Well, I exceeded your expectations. I'm in a SIDE car on the outskirts of Buenos Aires, on my way to the German Hospital, to which Betty was medevaced suffering from multiple gunshot wounds to the head and body."

"Jesus H. Christ!" Major Miller said.

"Oh, my G.o.d!" Mrs. Kensington exclaimed.

"What the h.e.l.l happened?" Miller asked.

"To spare Special Agent Schneider any possible embarra.s.sment that might ensue from the hotshot in overall charge of this operation picking her up at work himself- people might get the idea she was emotionally involved with her boss, and we couldn't have that-her boss had himself dropped off at a bar, and sent his car and driver to pick up said Special Agent Schneider.

"As Sergeant Roger Markham, USMC, was navigating the Sante Fe traffic circle in San Isidro en route to the bar, where the hotshot in overall charge of this operation was sipping wine, the car was bushwhacked by parties unknown. The b.a.s.t.a.r.ds managed to get a Madsen through Roger's window, and d.a.m.ned near emptied the magazine.

"Roger took several hits in the head, which just about exploded it, and the projectiles from the Madsen ricocheted off the bulletproof gla.s.s inside the car. At least three of them wound up in Betty."

"Jesus H. Christ!" Miller said.

"You already said that, d.i.c.k," Castillo said. "Now, while Mrs. K. is reporting this to the boss-tell him, please, Mrs. K., that Amba.s.sador Silvio is going to get on a secure line to report this just as soon as he tells Mrs. Masterson about this, and sees what she wants to do about the medal ceremony tomorrow, and that I will do the same as soon as I can, which means after I find out about Betty."

"Of course," Mrs. Kensington said. "Oh, Charley, I'm so sorry-"

"You, d.i.c.k," Castillo interrupted her, "get on the horn to the police commissioner in Philadelphia. What's his name?"

"Kellogg," Miller furnished.

"Better yet, what was the name of the counterterrorismguy, the one that had been in the Tenth Special Forces Group? Fritz something?"

"Chief Inspector F. W. 'Fritz' Kramer," Miller furnished, softly.

"That's the guy. Call him. Give him a heads-up. Tell him you don't know much more than she has been hurt- don't tell him she was shot, just hurt-and that we're going to send her to Philadelphia just as soon as possible. Ask him to make the call whether to tell her family or not. Tell him as soon as you know more, you'll pa.s.s it on."

"Got it."

"And then get with Joel Isaacson and ask him what to do about Roger Markham. . . ."

"He's the Marine driver who bought the farm?" Miller interrupted.

"Yeah. The amba.s.sador's going to call the State Department, but I don't know what they'll do about notifying the Marine Corps, or the next of kin, and I don't want that f.u.c.ked up . . . sorry, Mrs. K."

"I'll handle that, Charley," Mrs. Mary-Ellen Kensington said. "What about you? Are you all right? Safe?"

"I'm sitting next to the guy who runs SIDE. In Argentina, it don't get no safer than that."

"You will call when you know something about Betty?" Mrs. Kensington asked.

"I will. Now I have to break off. We're nearly at the hospital."

"Watch your back, buddy," Major H. Richard Miller said.

Castillo pushed the END key, slipped the telephone in his pocket, and looked at Munz.

"May I suggest, Karl, that before we enter the hospital, it might be a good idea to take the round out of the chamber of your pistol?"

"Jesus Christ, I forgot about that! How did you know?"

"I saw the pistol at Sante Fe Circle," Munz said.

When I looked in the window of the BMW.

Castillo took the Beretta from the small of his back, removed the magazine, ejected the round from its chamber, put the round in the magazine, and then put the magazine back in the pistol.

[TWO].

The German Hospital Avenida Pueyrredon Buenos Aires, Argentina 1920 24 July 2005 Castillo got to the intensive care unit of the hospital just as Special Agent Schneider was being wheeled on a gurney out of one of the gla.s.s-walled treatment units. There were so many hospital personnel around the gurney that Castillo had trouble getting a good look.

One of the medical people was pushing what looked like a clothes tree on wheels. There were three plastic bags hanging from it, with clear plastic tubing leading from them to under the blue sheets. One of the bags contained human blood.

Charley could only guess what the other two bags held.

Betty was wrapped in pale blue sheets. They were fresh and crisp but bloodstained near the groin and in the side. Her head was swaddled in white bandage, also bloodstained. Her eyes were open, but there was no reaction when, as the gurney was rolled out of intensive care toward a bank of elevators, he pushed one of the nurses aside to look down at her.

"I don't see any reaction," Charley said.

"I don't speak English," a man in surgical greens answered in broken English.

Charley repeated the question in Spanish.

"She has been sedated," the man answered.

They reached the elevator bank. A b.u.t.ton was pushed and eventually a door whooshed open.

"We are taking the patient to the operation theater," the man in surgical greens said. "You are forbidden."

Charley was about to say, "f.u.c.k you and your forbidden!" when he felt Munz's hand firmly on his shoulder.

"The chief of surgical staff will explain what's going to happen to her, Karl," Munz said gently. "You just can't go into the operation theater with her."

The chief of surgical staff looked like Santa Claus with a shave. His more than ample belly strained the b.u.t.tons of his white nylon jacket. His name tag read JOSE P. ROMMINE, M.D.

There was an X-ray viewing device on one wall of his office, holding so many large X-ray films that in places three and four were pinned by the same stainless-steel clip.

"I regret my English is not good," Dr. Rommine said, as he shook Castillo's hand.

"Herr Castillo speaks German," Munz said in German.

"That would be easier," Rommine replied in German. "I took my university in Germany. First at Philipps, in Marburg an der Lahn, then at Heidelberg."

"I know the schools," Castillo said.

German doctors-and I'm sure she had the best- couldn't keep my mother alive. I hope you can do better for Betty, Herr Doktor Santa Claus.

Please, G.o.d, let him do better!

"We're interested in your diagnosis, Herr Doktor," Munz said.

"Of course," the doctor said, turning to the X-rays and picking up a pointer. "As you can see from this, the wound to the leg, while it has of course done some muscle damage-and there will be more as the projectile is removed-could have been much worse."

Yeah, sure, those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds could have used a 20mm and blown it off.

Jesus, if they wanted to whack me, and they obviously have access to weapons, why didn't they use a hand grenade? Once they got Roger to lower the window, all they would have had to do was drop it inside the car. Heroic stories to the contrary, when a grenade lands close, very few people have ever been able to toss it back.

Castillo had an unpleasant image of Roger Markham desperately searching for a grenade on the floorboard, and then finding it just before it went off. Grenade shards would have gone through the upholstery and thin sheet metal of the seats without trouble. And of course probably bounced off that wonderful bullet-resistant gla.s.s.

Dr. Rommine's learned lecture concerning Betty's leg wound, ill.u.s.trated with half a dozen X-rays, took at least three minutes.

So did Part II, the wound in the groin area, which was also serious but not as serious as it could have been. The X-rays revealed no damage to the reproductive organs, except for the sympathetic trauma- Whatever the h.e.l.l that means.

-and the surgery to remove that projectile would of course clear up the questions unanswered by the X-rays.

"I think the wound to the face is going to cause the greatest difficulty," Dr. Rommine said, turning to the X-rays of the patient's cranium with emphasis on the mandible area.

"As you can see, the projectile is rather deeply embedded in the bone here." He used the pointer, and then turned to first one, and then a second, and then a third X-ray, covering the mandible area from all angles. "There is a fracture and some to-be-expected splintering. Removing the projectile will be somewhat difficult. We don't do much oral surgery here, and I attempted to locate a good man I know, but he's skiing in Bariloche and he won't be available for several days."

I hope the b.a.s.t.a.r.d breaks both his legs.

Castillo asked, "Are you saying you're going to leave the bullet in her jaw until you can get this guy back from Bariloche?"