"You think it's a good idea, Alfredo?" Kocian said.
"I think it's a very good idea," Munz said.
"All I am is a simple journalist plying his trade," Kocian said.
"We know that, but the Argentine government doesn't," Castillo said. "We'll get Otto to exaggerate when he calls the German ambassador here."
Kocian glared at him.
"Okay, so that's what we'll do," Castillo said. "I'll get on the horn right now." When they walked to the quincho, Corporal Lester Bradley came to attention as they approached him.
"Lester, try not to do that," Castillo said. "You're in civilian clothing."
"Yes, sir," Bradley said and lost perhaps ten percent of his rigid posture.
Sergeant Kensington was inside the quincho, on a twin of Kocian's recliner, reading the Herald. There was a Car-4 leaning against the recliner. Kensington lowered the newspaper but did not get up.
"How soon can you get the radio up, Bob?" Castillo asked.
"We're up and all green, sir," Kensington said. "I just talked to Major Miller."
"Where's the antenna?"
"On the roof, sir. It says DirecTV on it."
"Oh, you are a clever fellow, Robert."
"My mother always told me that, sir."
"Here's what I want to do, Bob. You tell me if I can do it and, if so, how."
"Yes, sir?"
"I want a secure line wherever possible. I have to make calls to Ambassador Montvale, to a civilian number in Germany, to a civilian number in San Antonio, and another one to a local number here in Argentina-either cellular or a regular phone-and I really don't want that party to know where it's coming from."
"Yes, sir. The ambassador's no problem at all. We get Miller at the Nebraska Complex on the horn. That'll be encrypted with our-AFC's-logarithms. Miller can decrypt and patch you into the White House switchboard and you'll have a secure line…"
"Instantaneous?"
"Yes, sir," Kensington said, then reached to the floor beside him and extended a telephone handset to Castillo. "Just like a telephone."
"And the others? How do I do that?"
"A couple of problems there," Kensington said. "You'll be secure as far as the White House switchboard for Germany and San Antonio, but not beyond, and, as far as here goes, the White House can get you secure as far as the embassy here, but I don't know if they can patch you into the local phone company."
"No problem," Susanna said. "But unless we block it, if the person you're calling has caller ID, they'll know where it's coming from, and, if they're any good at all, they could trace it to the embassy. Override the block, I mean."
"That's no problem," Castillo said. "Let him think I'm calling from the embassy. I mean, we'll put the caller ID block in, but there's no real harm if they get around it."
Kensington finally rose from the recliner. He walked to what looked like a kitchen cabinet, opened the door, squatted to examine the AFC radio, then turned and said, "All green, sir. You want the Nebraska Complex now?"
"Please. Put it on speakerphone."
"You're up."
"And how else may I be of assistance to you, Sergeant Kensington?" Major H. Richard Miller's voice-having been encrypted in Washington, D.C., then sent twenty-seven thousand miles into space to a satellite, then bounced back another twenty-seven thousand miles to earth and decrypted in the dining room of a quincho thirty-odd miles outside Buenos Aires-inquired cheerfully and with such clarity that amazement was on everybody's face except that of Sergeant Kensington.
"You can first get your bum leg off my desk," Castillo said, "and then we'll talk."
"Oh, good morning, Colonel. I've been wondering when we were going to hear from you. Ambassador Montvale is, in his words, 'quite anxious to chat' with you."
"Oddly enough, that's why I called. Patch me into the White House switchboard and eavesdrop, please."
"You got it, Charley." Twenty seconds later, a pleasant voice announced, "White House. This line is secure, Colonel Castillo. Sir, Ambassador Montvale has been trying to reach you."
"Will you get him for me, please?"
"Hold one, please."
"Ambassador Montvale's secure line," the now very familiar voice of Truman Ellsworth announced.
The sonofabitch really won't answer his own phone.
"Lieutenant Colonel Castillo for the ambassador, please," Castillo said.
"Hello, Charley!" Ambassador Montvale said cheerily a moment later. "And how are you, wherever you are?"
"I'm in Buenos Aires, sir. In three or four hours, I'm leaving for the States."
"Nice not having to worry about airline schedules, isn't it?" Montvale said, and, without waiting for an answer, went on: "So I'll see you in what-twelve hours or so?"
"It'll probably be a little longer than that, sir. I'm going first to Texas and then to Pennsylvania…"
"That's one of the things I'm quite anxious to chat with you about, Charley: briefcases in Pennsylvania. The man you said was going to report to me has never shown up. No matter the hour, call me when you get to Washington. And bring him with you."
"If that's possible, sir, I will. But I will see him before I come to Washington."
"May I inquire why you're going to Texas?"
"What I consider to be a bona fide threat has been made against the family of one of my primary sources. I'm bringing them to the States for their protection."
"Why do you consider it to be a bona fide threat? Source and family? Or just family? And where are you taking them?"
"Among other reasons, an attempt was made-there is good reason to believe by the same parties who were at the estancia-to kidnap Special Agent Yung. He was wounded in the process."
"What's the good reason?"
"Absolutely no identification on the body we have, and he had a hypodermic full of a tranquilizer with him. Same modus operandi as the attempted kidnapping-both attempts-of my source in Budapest. And, of course, the kidnapping of Mr. Masterson."
Montvale grunted.
"You still have no idea who these people are, Charley?"
"I've got a couple of theories. I'll tell you about them when I see you."
"How's Yung? He's going to be all right?"
At long last, he asks about Yung.
"He has a gouge from a double-aught buckshot pellet in his hand. He was lucky."
"Now they're using shotguns?"
"Yung took a hit when the Uruguayan police took down the bad guy."
"And what do the Uruguayan police think about all this?"
"That's something else I want to talk to you about," Castillo replied, and thought: Although right now I have no idea what I'll say.
"We do have a lot to talk about, don't we?"
"Sir, I apologize, but I've forgotten your other questions?"
Montvale took a moment to remember what they were.
"Oh, yes. Are you bringing your source and family? Or just the family?"
"Just the family, sir. His wife and two daughters."
"And where are you taking them in Texas?"
"To the Double-Bar-C. It's a ranch my family has in Midland. It's isolated."
"And floating over a sea of sweet crude oil in the Midland Basin, right?"
Jesus Christ, he knows about that, too?
"That proved very useful only yesterday," Montvale said. "I'll tell you all about it when I see you."
Castillo didn't respond. What the hell is he talking about?
Montvale went on, "Presumably, you've thought about security on the ranch?"
"Yes, sir. I've arranged for the Secret Service to be there by the time we get there."
"I didn't hear about that," Montvale said, making it an accusation. "I wonder why?"
Castillo again didn't reply.
"Is there anything I can do to help you, Charley? Anything you need?"
"How difficult would it be to have Edgar Delchamps brought home from Paris until we get this sorted out? He's the CIA station chief…"
"I know who he is," Montvale interrupted. "If you think it's necessary, I'll have him here as soon as he can get on a plane."
"I think it's important, sir."
"Then he'll be on the next plane. He'll probably be here before you get here. Is there anything he should be told?"