Standing at the snack bar, Artigas had caught Senora Munz's eye and nodded toward the port leading to the ladies' restrooms. She had joined him there a moment later.
"When people start going to their cars, take the girls and go down the stairs to the car deck. Senor Yung will be waiting for you there, to take you to our car. It's a dark blue BMW with diplomatic license plates."
Senora Munz had nodded her understanding, then gone into the ladies' room. Artigas saw Yung get out of his chair and walk to the stairwell. Then Artigas returned to his seat. As Yung had discreetly followed the Munz family as they walked onto the ferry, Artigas had driven the embassy BMW onto the ferry's car deck. But then Artigas had forgotten to tell Yung where he had parked it. Luckily, Yung had had only a little trouble finding it halfway back on the starboard side.
To explain his early presence on the car deck, once he had found the BMW and unlocked it, Yung popped the hood and looked intently at the engine, as if expecting some sign of some impending mechanical difficulty.
Only when he had been standing there for ninety seconds did it occur to him that it was possible-if unlikely-someone had been watching them all along, and, as soon as Artigas had left the car deck, that someone had hooked up a primer and a couple pounds of plastic explosive to the BMW's ignition.
Unlikely but not impossible.
The bastards are capable of anything-including using C-4.
The first few drivers who came down to the car deck to claim their vehicles looked wonderingly at the nicely dressed Chinese man flat on his back, studying the undercarriage of the BMW that had Corps Diplomatique license plates.
Yung finished in time to be standing at the foot of the stairway when the Munz family came down.
He had ushered them into the car and was in the front seat by the time Artigas walked up.
By then, the ferry was nudging into the pier.
Cars began driving off the ferry a minute or two later. Immigration formalities had been accomplished in Buenos Aires. At one counter in the terminal there, Argentine officials had run passports and National Identity Cards through a computer reader, then handed them to Uruguayan immigration officers sitting at the next counter. The passports and National Identity Cards were then run through a Uruguayan computer reader, then handed back to the travelers, who, even though physically in Buenos Aires, were now legally inside the borders of the Republica Oriental del Uruguay.
Uruguayan customs officials, however, were waiting for the cars streaming off the ferry.
Artigas rolled down the window and extended his diplomat's carnet, a plastic card not unlike a driver's license.
The customs officer looked at it a moment, peered into the car, and said, "Welcome back to Uruguay, Senor Artigas."
"Thank you," Artigas said.
"Diplomaticos Norteamericanos," the customs officer called to uniformed officers a few feet away. They saluted as the BMW rolled past.
"Welcome to Uruguay, senora y senoritas," Yung said.
"Gracias," Senora Munz said, emotionally.
Artigas turned right on leaving the port gate and headed for Carrasco on the Rambla.
Yung took out his cellular and punched Castillo's autodial number.
After the first ring, Yung heard, "?Hola?"
"The pilgrims just stepped off Plymouth Rock," Yung announced.
"What?" a voice asked, in English.
"Who is this?" Yung demanded.
"Yung?" the voice said.
"Yes."
"Torine. What's up?"
"Where's the boss?"
"Crashed. He fell asleep right after dinner. Everything go all right or do I have to wake him?"
"As smooth as glass. We're on our way to the airport to pick up Artigas's car, then to the Belmont House. We'll take turns sitting on the nest."
"How's the battery in your cellular?"
"I'll make sure it's charged"-he corrected himself-"they're charged."
"We'll be in touch," Torine said and broke the connection. Artigas stopped the BMW outside the parking lot at the Carrasco airfield and got out. Yung stepped out of the passenger's door, walked around the BMW, and slid in behind the steering wheel.
When Artigas, now at the wheel of his Chrysler PT Cruiser, came out of the parking lot two minutes later, he waited until Yung had backed the BMW away from the parking lot, then followed him at a discreet distance into Carrasco. [FIVE] The Belmont House Hotel Avenida Rivera 7512 Carrasco, Montevideo, Uruguay 0225 9 August 2005 Yung's apartment on Avenida Bernardo Barran in Carrasco was two blocks away from the small, five-star luxury hotel and their route took them past it.
That naturally triggered in Yung's mind the memory of the sound of the cop's riot shotgun going off and of the double-aught buckshot pellets that riddled Yung's Chevy Blazer.
When I go to the States with Lorimer's casket, what happens to the Blazer?
I won't be coming back here, certainly not permanently. Which means I'll have to get rid of the Blazer.
How the hell can I sell it with a dozen holes in it?
How am I going to get it fixed from long distance?
Jesus, what's the matter with me? I'm supposed to be concentrating on the Munzes, not worrying about my damned Blazer!
At the Belmont House Hotel, after Yung drove the BMW into the circular drive in front of the hotel, Artigas pulled to the curb and shut off his headlights.
A doorman and a bellman immediately appeared at the BMW. Senora Munz and her daughters, all appearing very sleepy, got of the car and walked into the hotel.
Yung checked to see where Artigas was.
If the cops see him parked there, they'll be curious, but with the CD plates on the car they can't ask him what he's doing.
What they'll probably decide is that he's waiting for a pal who is inside the hotel and not yet ready to leave the arms of love.
Yung walked into the hotel as Senora Munz was registering. The desk clerk obviously knew her.
That's convenient. Their appearance this late after midnight will not raise questions.
"If there's nothing else I can do for you, ladies, I'll leave you and see you in the morning. You know how to reach me."
"Thank you very much," Senora Munz said. "You are very gracious."
Yung smiled at the girls again, then walked out of the hotel. He got in the BMW and drove to his apartment.
I don't have the clicker to open the goddamned garage door. I'll have to leave the car on the street.
He pulled to the curb and started to get out of the car, but changed his mind as he took the keys from the ignition. Instead, he took out his cellular.
Jake Torine answered on the second ring.
"They're in the nest. And Julio is sitting outside," Yung announced.
"Don't forget to make sure your phones work," Torine replied. "We don't want to have to send out a search party for you tomorrow…I mean, later today."
"I told you I'd do it," Yung said, some what snappishly, and broke the connection.
He immediately realized, Dammit! He's right. That's an important little detail, and the truth is, I didn't think about a dead cellular battery.
There're two chargers in the apartment, one that fits into a cigarette lighter. I'll get it and walk down the street and give it to Artigas. Then I'll charge mine.
He opened the door of the BMW some what awkwardly with his left hand, got out, then started to lock the car.
"Buenos noches, Senor Yung," a voice said behind him. "I guess it's really buenos dias, isn't it?"
Yung felt a chill.
Jesus, the hair on my neck actually curled. I thought that was just a figure of speech.
"You scared hell out of me, Ordonez!" Yung said.
"Sorry," Chief Inspector Jose Ordonez said. His smile revealed he was more amused than regretful.
Yung glared at him.
"You're not going to ask me what I'm doing walking the streets of Carrasco at this hour?" Ordonez said.
"I really don't give a damn," Yung said.
"We have to talk, Senor Yung."
"Some other time, perhaps. I've had a busy day and want to go to bed."