"I'm sure there will be something, sir."
"I'll pass the word that you are to be given whatever assistance you need, and if you think anyone needs a little jogging, I'm as close as your telephone."
"Thank you, sir."
"Specifically, what I'm going to do is ask Mr. Howell to ask Mr. Monahan to assign Mr. Artigas to assist you in whatever needs to be done so long as you're here."
"Mr. Artigas?"
"He can fill you in on what happened at Estancia Shangri-La," McGrory explained. "He's been up there. Chief Inspector Jose Ordonez of the Interior Police Division of the Uruguayan Policia Nacional flew him up there in a helicopter the day after it happened."
Yung thought: I've been sandbagged. The last thing I need is Julio Artigas looking over my shoulder and taking notes so that he can report to McGrory.
"I appreciate the thought, sir, but I'm not sure that will be necessary."
"Nonsense," McGrory said. "I'm sure he'll be very helpful to you."
"Yes, sir."
McGrory stood up again.
"If you can find time while you're here, why don't we have lunch?"
Yung understood the meeting was concluded.
"I'd like that very much, sir," Yung said and stood up.
McGrory offered his hand again. Yung shook it, then offered his hand to Howell.
"Why don't we go see Mr. Monahan right now, Yung?" Howell asked.
"Good idea," McGrory said.
"Thank you," Yung said.
As he walked out of the ambassador's office, Yung had several thoughts, one after the other:
Unbelievable! Surreal!
Wait till Castillo hears that nonsense about Lorimer being a drug dealer!
Thank God that pompous moron-no wonder they call him Senor Pompous!-wasn't told what we were up to! He would have ordered all of us out of the country and told the Uruguayans why.
But he's not as stupid as he appears. He's going to have Artigas watch me and Howell watch both of us. I have to keep that in mind.
Just as soon as I can, I'm going to have to go to Buenos Aires and get on a secure line to Castillo. "I'm going to have to stop in here," Yung said to Howell as they approached the door to a men's room.
Howell followed him inside and stood at the adjacent urinal.
"Well," Howell said. "That was interesting, wasn't it?"
"Does he actually believe that drug dealer business or is he being clever?"
"He believes it. He also believes he's smelling rotten eggs."
"Artigas is smart and he doesn't like me," Yung said.
"And he and Chief Inspector Ordonez are pals."
"So what do I do?"
"Make sure Artigas doesn't learn anything Ordonez would like to know."
"And how do I do that?"
"Be very careful, Yung. Very careful." [THREE] Office of the Legal Attache The Embassy of the United States of America Lauro Miller 1776 Montevideo, Republica Oriental del Uruguay 1035 6 August 2005 Generally speaking, there is little love lost between the Federal Bureau of Investigation and the Central Intelligence Agency, and in the United States embassy in Montevideo there was little lost between James D. Monahan, the senior FBI agent, and Robert Howell, the cultural attache rumored to be the CIA station chief.
Monahan privately thought of Howell as a typical CIA asshole who couldn't find his ass with both hands and Howell privately thought of Monahan as someone far better suited to be walking a beat in Chicago eating a stolen apple while preserving law and order with his billy club than holding his present position.
They were, of course, civil to each other.
"Can we come in a moment, Jim?" Howell asked.
"Absolutely. What's on your mind, Bob?"
"Hello, Monahan," Yung said.
"I heard you'd been recalled to the bureau," Monahan said. "You're back?"
"Temporarily," Yung said. "They sent me back to handle the affairs of Mr. Lorimer. Return of the remains, conservation of assets, etcetera."
"The bureau sent you back to do that?"
"Actually, it was the State Department that sent me."
"Oh, that's right. You work for the State Department, don't you? A little something you never got around to telling me."
"You didn't have the Need to Know," Yung said, more than a little lamely.
"Jim," Howell said, quickly, "the ambassador would like you to have Julio Artigas work with Yung on this."
"Work with Yung on what?"
"Repatriation of Mr. Lorimer's remains, for one thing, safeguarding his assets and having a look at Lorimer's estancia."
"The ambassador wants this?" Monahan asked.
"Yes, he does."
Monahan picked up his telephone and punched in a number.
"Julio, can you come in here a minute?" Legal Attache Julio Artigas was surprised to see Yung in Monahan's office. In thinking about what had happened at Estancia Shangri-La and his gut feeling when he had gone with Ambassador McGrory to Buenos Aires that Howell and Darby, the Buenos Aires CIA station chief, knew all about what had happened there, he had concluded that Yung was also probably involved.
The story that Yung had been suddenly recalled to the States to testify in some court case smelled. Artigas had thought it even possible that Yung had been at the estancia during the firefight and had been wounded and taken out of the country by whoever had been at the estancia and won the gun battle. It seemed logical to presume that at least some of the Americans involved had been wounded or even killed-and there was little question in his mind that Americans were involved. Getting Yung out of the country, even with a fishy, hastily concocted story, made more sense than trying to explain how and where he had been wounded.
Artigas had kept his thoughts to himself. His opinion of James D. Monahan was that his greatest skill was covering his own ass. Monahan liked being the senior FBI agent in the embassy, which allowed him to order the other agents around. But whenever he should have stood up and defended the other agents from one of McGrory's stupid orders, he was quick to argue that he wasn't the SAC and that sort of thing wasn't his business.
Artigas knew that if he had said anything of his suspicions to Monahan, there was no question that Monahan would have run with it right to McGrory-or, more likely, to Theodore J. Detweiller, Jr., the chief of mission.
"I think I should tell you, Ted, what a wild idea Artigas came to me with." "What can I do for you, Jim?"
"It's what you can do for Yung, "Monahan replied. "Or, more accurately, for the State Department."
"You're back, huh, Yung?" Artigas asked.
"Yung was sent back," Howell answered for him, "by the secretary of state to handle the return of Lorimer's remains and to protect his assets."
"And to compile a report for the secretary about what happened at Lorimer's estancia," Yung added.
Artigas looked at Yung. Or maybe, since you know goddamned well what happened, to see how much we know? Or the Uruguayans know?
"You're a little late to protect his assets," Artigas said. "Parties unknown emptied his bank accounts. Of sixteen million dollars."
He thought, As you almost certainly know.
"I've heard something about that," Yung replied, "and I'd like a full report on that. What we know for sure. Ambassador McGrory told me there is some reason to think he was into drugs. But first things first. Where is the body?"
"In the cooler, in the British Hospital on Avenida Italia. It was taken there for an autopsy. Chief Inspector Ordonez of the federal police has promised me a copy of the autopsy report sometime today."
"I'd like a copy of that, too, of course. And is there going to be any kind of a problem getting into the estancia?"
"Ordonez has the estancia pretty well sealed off. He'd be the man to ask about that."
"Well," Howell suggested, "why don't we go to my office, see if we can get him on the phone? And get out of Jim's hair."
"Just to be sure I know what's going on here, this has the blessing of the ambassador, right?" Artigas asked.
"Yes, it does," Howell said. He nodded toward the door. "Shall we go?"