Montvale swallowed, then sipped at his glass of red wine. “Why don’t you sit down, Colonel.”
“Thank you very much.”
Castillo took his seat, looked around for a waiter, and motioned for him to come over.
“I’m starved. I had breakfast very early,” he said in English to Montvale, and then switched to Spanish to address the waiter: “Would you bring me a Roquefort empanada, please, and then a bife de chorizo punto, papas fritas, and a tomato and onion salad?”
He picked up the bottle of wine on the table, read the label, made a face, returned the bottle to the table, and added, “And a bottle of Saint Felicien Cabernet Sauvignon, please.”
“Something wrong with that wine, Colonel?” Montvale said, an edge of sarcasm rising in his tone.
“Well, according to the label, it’s Malbec.”
“Yes. And?”
“And, Mr. Montvale, I thought you knew. ‘Malbec’ is French for ‘bad taste.’ I don’t know about you, sir, but that’s enough to warn me off.”
Ambassador Silvio chuckled.
The man in the Sears, Roebuck suit stared icily at Castillo.
Castillo reached across the table and offered him his hand.
“My name is Castillo, sir. Any friend of Mr. Montvale—”
“Lieutenant Colonel Castillo,” Montvale interrupted, “this is Colonel Remley.”
“How do you do, sir?” Castillo said politely.
“Of Special Operations Command,” Montvale added.
“Oh, really? Well, if we can find the time, sir, maybe we can play ‘Do You Know?’ I know some people there.”
Colonel Remley neither smiled nor replied.
“Speaking of time, Castillo,” Montvale said. “I’d like to get back to Washington as soon as possible. How long is it going to take for you to get your ‘guests’ to the airport?”
“I have no idea who you’re talking about.”
Montvale, looking over the top of his wineglass, stared down Castillo. “You know goddamn well who I’m talking about.”
The waiter arrived with Castillo’s wine. Castillo took his time going through the ritual of approving the bottle, finally taking a long sip, swirling it in his mouth, then shrugging to the waiter as if signifying that it’d have to do.
After the waiter poured the large glass half full and left, Castillo picked up the glass, looked at Montvale, and said, “Even if I did know about whatever it is you suggest that I do, a public restaurant wouldn’t be the place to talk about it, would it?”
Montvale glowered.
“Or in front of these gentlemen?” Castillo pursued.
“Then let’s go to the embassy!” Montvale said angrily under his breath.
“After I’ve had my lunch, that would probably be a good idea.”
“Castillo,” Colonel Remley snapped, “you know who the ambassador is. How dare you speak to him in that manner?”
“Colonel, no disrespect to either ambassador was intended, sir. It’s just that I suspect Mr. Montvale was alluding to something that is highly classified, and I know that neither you nor Ambassador Silvio is authorized access to that material.”
“Ambassador Montvale briefed me fully on this situation on the way down here, Colonel!”
“With respect, sir, I doubt that.”
“You arrogant little sonofabitch!” Remley said sharply, almost knocking over his water glass. “Just who the hell do you think you are?”
“Sir,” Castillo replied evenly, “the reason I doubt that Ambassador Montvale would make you or anyone else privy to what I think he’s referring to is that only two people have been authorized to decide who has the Need to Know. And as I haven’t done so and I have not been informed by the other person so authorized that you have been briefed, I’m reasonably certain that you have not been made privy and thus do not have the Need to Know, sir.”
“Goddamn you, Charley!” Montvale said.
Castillo raised his eyebrows in mock shock. “If everybody is going to swear at me, I’m just going to have to be rude and change tables. I’m very sensitive, and I don’t want to have indigestion when I’m eating my lunch.”
“One of my options, Castillo,” Montvale said, ignoring him, “is to ask Colonel Remley to place you under arrest, then have those gentlemen escort you to my airplane.”
He nodded toward the two neatly dressed men.
Castillo looked at them, then at Ambassador Silvio, who now looked more than a little uncomfortable, then back at Montvale. “What are they, Secret Service?”
“Yes, they are,” Montvale said.
“And I’ll bet they’re armed, right?”
“Yes, they are.”
“Do you see those three men at the table in the other room looking this way, Mr. Ambassador?”
Montvale looked. “What about them?”
“Two of them are officers—commissioned officers—of the Gendarmería Nacional. If either of your Secret Service agents even looks like he’s going to do anything to me, the gendarmes will come over, ask them for their identification, and then pat them down. If they are armed—the Secret Service has no authority in Argentina—they will be arrested, their weapons confiscated, and then Ambassador Silvio will be forced to see what he can do about getting them out of the slam. With a little quiet encouragement from your table guest here, they might even detain you and the colonel for questioning.”
“I’ll see you before a general court-martial, Colonel!” Colonel Remley exploded.
Castillo met Remley’s eyes.
“With respect, sir, on what charge?” he said calmly. “I have always been taught that an officer is required to obey his last lawful order unless that order is changed by an officer senior to the officer who issued the initial order. You are not, sir, senior to the officer whose orders I am obeying. And both Ambassador Silvio and Mr. Montvale know that.”
“Gentlemen,” Ambassador Silvio said with some awkwardness, “this is getting out of hand.”
“Mr. Ambassador, with respect, I suggest that I’m trying to keep it from really getting out of hand. And with that in mind, vis-à-vis my going to the embassy to have a private chat with Mr. Montvale, I’m going to have to ask for your word that I will be allowed to leave the embassy whenever I choose to do so.”
Castillo saw the waiter approaching with what he guessed was his meal, and he remained quiet as the waiter placed it before him, then picked up the bottle of Saint Felicien and refilled Castillo’s large glass before leaving.
“You really should try some of this, Mr. Montvale,” Castillo said, raising the glass in his direction. “It’s very nice and can get that ‘bad taste’ out of your mouth.”
Montvale just stared back.
“And if I don’t give you my word that you will be free to leave the embassy?” Ambassador Silvio asked.
“Then I will have my lunch and leave.”
“Colonel Castillo,” Colonel Remley said, his tone hard-edged, “I am about to give you a direct order—”
Montvale held up his hand, interrupting him.
“Drink your wine, Castillo,” Montvale said. “And have your lunch. Then we will go to the embassy.”
Castillo looked at Montvale, then back at Silvio. “And have I your word, Mr. Ambassador, that I’ll be allowed to leave?”
“You have my word,” Ambassador Silvio said.
[THREE]
Ambassador Silvio’s armored BMW was waiting at the curb when everyone in their party walked out of Río Alba fifteen minutes later.
“I suggest that it would be easier to walk,” Silvio said.
“Fine with me,” Castillo said. “If Mr. Montvale feels up to it.”
Montvale glared at him, nodded at Colonel Remley to follow, and set off down the sidewalk.