Yeah, you are, and I don't like to think of anyone else sleeping in the bed where Betty and I were.

"Not for long," Castillo said. "When I told the desk I needed more rooms, they told me this suite is expandable. So I took a three-room expansion. But I forgot about Sergeant Kensington."

"I can bunk with Kensington, Major," Kranz said. "Not a problem."

"Dibs on that bed," Fernando said, pointing through the door at the huge bed in the master bedroom from which Britton had just risen.

"Like h.e.l.l; that's mine. I'm now the chief, and you're just a lousy airplane pilot, in any interpretation of that term you may wish to apply."

Fernando, shaking his head and smiling, gave him the finger.

Castillo walked to the telephone and picked up the handset and punched the FRONT DESK key on the base.

"I'm going to need one more room," he said. "And send up several large pots of coffee." He hung up and turned to Britton. "Did Tony Santini get you a cellular phone?"

Britton nodded. "Me and Kensington."

"With his number and Darby's on them?"

Britton nodded again.

"May I have it, please?" Castillo asked.

Britton went into the master bedroom.

"You're going to get Santini out of bed at this unholy hour?" Torine asked.

"Santini and Ricardo Solez and Alex Darby, and then as soon as one of them tells me how to get him on the phone, Special Agent Yung in Montevideo."

"I am awed by this very early morning display of energy," Torine said.

"Jake," Castillo said, very seriously, "if Jean-Paul Lorimer is here, and I have a gut feeling he is, I want to find him before anyone else does."

"Point taken," Torine replied. "I wasn't thinking. Sorry, Charley."

Britton, now wearing trousers but no shirt and still barefoot, came back into the room and handed Castillo a cellular telephone.

"Santini's on two," he announced. "And Darby on three."

"And Ricardo Solez?"

"After you left, he went back to drugs," Britton said. "I don't have a number for him."

"I've got his home number," Fernando said.

"Yeah, that's right, Don Fernando, you would have it," Castillo said, not very pleasantly. "Well, get on the phone, call him, tell him to call in to the emba.s.sy that he'll be late, and to come over here. And because you'll be on an unsecure cell, figure out some way without using my name to tell him not to tell anyone I'm back."

"Is that a secret?" Fernando asked.

"For the time being," Castillo said, and punched autodial b.u.t.ton two on Britton's cellular. Then he said, "s.h.i.t!" and pushed the END b.u.t.ton. He went to the minibar in one of the cabinets, took the ice trays from it, and in their place put the foil-wrapped Wiener schnitzel. Then he pushed the cellular's autodial b.u.t.ton two again.

Tony Santini arrived first.

"Looks like old home week," he said when he saw everybody. "Welcome back to Gaucholand. I guess you got something in Europe?"

"I'll have to remember to tell Tom McGuire to b.u.t.ton his lip," Castillo said.

"Tom and I go back a long way, Charley. But while we're on the subject of what Tom told me, where do I go to enlist?"

"Excuse me?"

"I hadn't planned to make this pitch with anybody listening, but what the h.e.l.l. I'll eventually go home, but they'll never a.s.sign me to the presidential protection detail again. Falling off a limo b.u.mper is just about as bad as goosing the first lady. People aren't supposed to snicker when the motorcade rolls by. From what Tom told me about what you're going to be doing, that'll be at least as interesting. How about it?"

Do I have the authority to just say, "Yes, sure"?

I do until someone-and that means the President- tells me I don't.

"Welcome aboard, Tony," Castillo said. "That's presuming someone important doesn't say 'Not only no, but h.e.l.l no you can't have Santini.'"

"We'll worry about that when it happens. From what Tom told me, I don't think it will. So what's up?"

"You have a look at the package from Fort Bragg?"

Santini nodded. "Very impressive weaponry," he said. "And black jumpsuits. And those face masks! This may be an indelicate question, but who are we going to whack?"

"The answer to that is Top Secret-Presidential, Tony," Castillo said, seriously.

"Okay," Santini said, his voice now serious. "Understood."

"My orders are to locate and render harmless the people who murdered Masterson and Markham."

"It's about time we started playing by their rules," Santini said after a moment.

"The President apparently has made that decision," Castillo said.

"Now all we have to do is find them, huh? How do we do that?"

"You remember Mrs. Masterson's brother, the UN guy we couldn't find to tell him about Masterson?"

Santini nodded.

"It seems he was the head bagman for the oil-for-food payoffs," Castillo said. "He went missing-probably from Vienna-immediately after he found one of his a.s.sistants dead of a slit throat in Vienna. Nasty. Before they killed him, they pulled several of his teeth with a pair of pliers.

"The CIA guy in Paris and my source in Vienna think Lorimer is probably in the Seine or the Danube. I don't."

"Why not?"

"Wait until you hear this. When we landed in Mississippi, Mrs. Masterson told me the reason she was abducted was because they thought she would know where her brother was. They killed Masterson to show her how serious they were about wanting to know; the Masterson kids would be next. And I think they whacked Sergeant Markham and almost whacked Schneider to show her they could get to whoever they wanted to."

"I had a gut feeling at the time they were after you," Santini said. "It was your car."

"That thought has run through my mind," Castillo said.

"She didn't know where he was? Or she figured her kids were more important? Which?"

"She didn't know," Castillo said.

A knock at the door announced the arrival of Alex Darby.

"Why do I feel I'm late for the party?" Darby asked, and then looked at Fernando and Kranz.

"Fernando Lopez, Seymour Kranz, Alex Darby," Castillo said.

"And these gentlemen are?" Darby asked.

"Mr. Lopez is an airplane pilot under contract to the Office of Organizational a.n.a.lysis," Castillo said.

"To the what?"

"The Office of Organizational a.n.a.lysis. You don't know what that is?"

"Never heard of it," Darby confessed.

"I'm surprised. It's in the Department of Homeland Security."

"I told you, Charley, I never heard of it," Darby said.

Using my miraculous powers to judge a man's thoughts by looking into his eyes, I deduce that Darby really doesn't know.

"There's been a Presidential Finding, Alex," Castillo said. "A clandestine and covert organization charged with finding and rendering harmless those responsible for Masterson's and Markham's murders has been set up within the Department of Homeland Security."

"And who was put in charge of this It's About G.o.dd.a.m.nTime for Payback organization? And why didn't I hear about it?"

Torine pointed at Castillo and said, "Say h.e.l.lo to the chief, Alex."

"The answer asks more questions than it answers," Darby said, "starting with why didn't I hear about it?"

"I just told you about it," Castillo said.

"And who's Kranz?"

"He's our communicator."

"There's a rumor floating around that there's already a special communicator down here," Darby said.

"Now there's two. They call that redundancy."

"I'm getting the feeling you know who these b.a.s.t.a.r.ds are," Darby said. "And I would really like to help you render them harmless."

"We don't know who they are," Castillo said. "But there's a guy I think is here who can probably tell us."

"Who?"

"Jean-Paul Lorimer."

"I thought they couldn't find him in Paris. What's he got to do with this? He's here?"

"I think so. Somewhere here in the Southern Cone. What he has to do with it is that he was the bagman for Oil for Food. Not only did he skim a large sum-sixteen million, according to one source-from the bribe money, but he knows who got how much, when, and what for. That's what the whole thing was about. The people who want his mouth permanently closed-and their money back-really want to find him."

"That sounds pretty far-fetched, Charley. Lorimer-I told you I met him-is a typical UN bureaucrat. I can't imagine him being involved in something like that. Where'd you get it?"

"I got the fact that people are looking for him from Mrs. Masterson. They kidnapped her because they thought she would know where he is. I think they believed her when she said she didn't. But they think he'll contact her. They told her that they'll kill her children if she does find out where he is and doesn't tell them. Masterson was blown away to make the point that they will kill to get what they want."

"You got that from Betsy Masterson?"

Castillo nodded.

"Why didn't she tell me?"

"She didn't tell me until we landed in the States. Her primary concern was protecting the children, and G.o.d knows she had reason not to feel secure in Argentina. I guess when she saw the Globemaster surrounded by Delta Force shooters she felt secure enough to tell me."

"Does she know why these people are looking for Lorimer?"

"If you mean, did she know he was the oil-for-food bagman, I don't think so. If she knew, she would have told her husband, and I don't think there's any question that Masterson would have blown the whistle on him."

"And he would have," Darby said. "So how are you going to find Lorimer?"

"I don't know. But the first thing I have to do is talk to Yung."

"The FBI guy in Montevideo? What's he got to do with this?"

"I don't know. But I do know he's not looking for money laundering, as he says he is . . ."

"How do you know that?" Darby challenged.

". . . and that he's working for the State Department, not the FBI."

"I don't understand that."

"Neither do I, but I got that from Natalie Cohen. Who has told Amba.s.sador Silvio and Amba.s.sador Whatsisname in Montevideo . . ."

"McGrory," Darby furnished.

". . . to tell him to, quote, put himself and whatever intelligence he has developed, end quote, at my disposal."

"She didn't tell you what he's doing?"

"She's in Singapore-or was-and believe it or not the secure voice links in both her airplane and the emba.s.sy were f.u.c.ked up."