Gorner started to speak, then stopped-Goddamn it, I have to say this-then said what was on his mind: "Karl, what we do here is publish newspapers, newspapers started by your great-great-grandfather. I can't stand idly by while you turn it into a branch of the CIA."
"The simple answer to that, Otto," Castillo said, "is you're right. It's a newspaper. But let's not forget, either, that I own Gossinger Beteiligungsgesellschaft, G.m.b.H." He let that sink in a moment, then went on: "A more complicated answer is that I've thought about Grosspappa. And the Tages Zeitung newspapers. I'm not turning them into a CIA asset. For one thing, I don't work for the CIA. And from all I remember about him, all I've heard about him, he was a very moral man. I think he would be as annoyed-as disgusted-with the greedy bastards behind this oil-for-food scandal as Eric Kocian is. And I think if he was still alive and Ignatz Glutz came to him with CIA tattooed on his forehead and said he was trying to do something about those greedy, murderous bastards, Grosspappa would have helped. Within certain boundaries, of course. Anyway, that's the way I'm going to play it. Carlos Castillo is going to ask certain things of the Tages Zeitung and if Karl von und zu Gossinger thinks his grandfather would have given Castillo what he's asking for, the Tages Zeitung is going to give it to him."
"It says in the Bible, Karlchen, that a man cannot serve two masters," Gorner said.
"It also says in the Bible that Jonah was swallowed whole by a whale and lived through it," Castillo said. "Aren't you the man who told me to be careful about what you read? Not to believe something just because it's in print?"
"'Within certain boundaries' covers a lot of ground, Karl," Gorner said, softly. "Who defines those boundaries?"
"I do. But it should also go without saying that if I step over the line, you are free to tell me how I am over that line."
Gorner stared at him intently for a long moment.
"The older I get, the more I believe in genetics," he said, finally. "So I'm going to go with my gut feeling that there's a hell of a lot more of Oberst Hermann Wilhelm von und zu Gossinger running through your veins than there is Texas cowboy, Colonel Carlos Castillo."
Castillo didn't reply.
"Tell me about Ambassador Montvale and his message," Gorner said.
"I have no idea what's in Montvale's message, but if it was really important he would have gotten it to me."
"I don't understand," Frau Schroder said.
"If I go to Berlin to get the message, I'm a cute little dachshund answering its master's whistle. Which is what he wants."
"Oh," she said, and then a moment later said, "But what if there is something important in the message?"
"If something important happened, Dick Miller would know what it was and he would have gotten through to me. But just to be sure, as soon as we get the money straightened out, I'm going to give Dick a call."
"Is that why you're here?" Gorner asked. "About that money in the Liechtensteinische Landesbank?"
"Mostly."
"What else?"
"I want all your notes, all your reporters' notes, on oil for food," Castillo said. "They will go no further than me. I really don't work for the CIA, Otto. Or anybody but the President."
Gorner didn't reply.
"Am I crossing the line, Otto?" Castillo asked, softly.
"Not with that," Gorner said, simply. "I think the Old Man would have given your Mr. Ignatz Glutz his reporter's notes. I'll reserve judgment about the money until I hear whatever you think you can tell me about it."
"I'll tell you everything about it," Castillo said. "We found out that Lorimer had it in three banks in Uruguay. It seems logical to assume that he stole it-the American phrase is 'skimmed it'-from his payoff money. We also found out that it was not on deposit but rather in the form of on-demand notes issued by the bank, something like bearer bonds. We got the notes, and took the money. It's going to be spent finding who killed Mr. Masterson and Sergeant Markham and for other noble purposes, including finding out who sent the men to murder Lorimer."
"You certainly found out about that quickly," Gorner said.
"I was there, Otto. I was just about to tell Lorimer that he was about to be returned to the bosom of his family when somebody stuck a submachine gun through the window. They killed Lorimer and wounded a man with me. Other bad guys killed one of my sergeants by garroting him."
"Karlchen!" Frau Schroder exclaimed.
"Who were they?" Gorner asked.
"I don't know. I intend to find out. The only thing I know for sure was they were not Uruguayan bandits. Spetsnaz, possibly. Maybe Mossad. Maybe even French, from Le Premiere Regiment de Parachutistes d'Infanterie de Marine, known as Rip-em. There's even been a suggestion that they might be from Die Kommando Spezialkrafte. Whoever they were, they were damned good."
"And, I suppose you realize, damned dangerous?" Gorner asked.
"That thought has run through my mind. Let me tell what I'd like to do about the money, then Frau Schroder can explain why that's not possible."
Gorner realized that although it was the last thing he wanted to do, he was smiling.
Castillo said, "I have-that is, Lopez Fruit and Vegetables Mexico has-an account with the Banco Salamander Mexicano in Oaxaca."
"Say that again, slowly," Frau Schroder said as she picked up Gorner's leather-covered legal pad and a pencil. "And you better spell it, too. I don't speak Spanish."
"You don't?" Castillo asked as if deeply shocked. "I thought everybody spoke Spanish."
Gorner realized that he was smiling again at the look on Frau Schroder's face before she realized she was being teased.
Castillo went into his laptop case and took out a sheet of paper and handed it to her.
"Everything's on there," he said, "including account numbers. Fernando tells me we run a lot of money through there."
"That's the Bahias de Huatulco ranch?" Otto asked.
"Used to be cattle, now it's mostly grapefruit, "Castillo confirmed. "Anyway, a wire transfer of ten million dollars wouldn't set off alarm bells, particularly if we spend most of it right away to buy an airplane."
"Excuse me?" Gorner asked.
Castillo went back to his briefcase and took out a photocopy of what Gorner recognized after a moment as an aircraft specification sheet.
"A twenty-three-year-old Gulfstream III," Castillo said. "Just the sort of airplane that would be owned-or leased-by a successful Mexican farming operation trying to peddle its wares in Europe and Latin America. And a bargain, Fernando tells me, at seven million five, as it has new engines and all the maintenance is up-to-date. And its new glove-leather interior is sort of the cherry on the cake."
"Why do you need an airplane like that?" Frau Schroder asked.
"We flew Fernando's plane-the Bombardier/Learjet-over here, then to South America, and then from Buenos Aires to the States. Two things wrong with that. It's not designed for long flights-over-the-ocean flights-like that. And, as a corollary, attracts attention when it does. And then when Ambassador Montvale kindly put the CIA's private airlines at my disposal, I knew I had to have an airplane, the pilot of which is not going to make hourly reports of my location to the ambassador."
"You're going to be doing a lot of that, flying across oceans?" Gorner asked.
"I'll be going wherever I have to go and I want to do it quickly, safely, and as invisibly as possible."
"Can you just go out and buy an airplane like that? And who's going to fly it?"
"That's a moot question until Frau Schroder tells me whether I can move the ten million to the account in Mexico."
He looked expectantly at Frau Schroder.
"That can be done with a telephone call," she said. "You can count on the money being available within the hour."
"Well, let's do that and then we'll get on the horn to Dick Miller," Castillo said. "The sooner we get the money into Salamander, the sooner I can-as an officer of Lopez Fruit and Vegetables Mexico-wire-transfer out of it to my account at the Riggs Bank in Washington. I already know how to do that."