"Hey, Jack, what's up?"
"A good deal. The Russians have been heard from. Sergei Murov-the rezident-invited Frank Lammelle over to their dacha to go fishing."
"In the middle of the winter?"
"And when he got there, told them what they want. They will give us all the Congo-X they have. With an implied promise they won't find any more. In exchange, they want the two defectors. And Charley Castillo."
"They say why?"
"Frank had the impression this came right from Putin. Frank said Murov told him, or implied, that not only has Putin's ego been bruised, but some of the people Castillo and his merry band have been whacking around the world were friends-maybe even relatives-of his."
"And you believe this?"
"Frank does. More importantly, President Clendennen does."
"Which means what?"
"That as soon as we find those two Russians Castillo snatched from our station chief in Vienna, we put them on the next Aeroflot to Moscow."
"Did Frank tell Murov we don't have the two Russians?"
"He did. Murov didn't believe him. Anyway, that's moot. My orders are to find the Russians so that we can turn them over."
"Clendennen's going to stand still for that blackmail?"
"I'll say it again, Charles: My orders are to find the Russians so that we can turn them over."
"And Castillo? He's going to turn him over, too?"
"I didn't hear that, because you didn't ask it. But a moment ago, I should have said that my orders are to find the Russians and Lieutenant Colonel Castillo, Retired."
"And do what with Castillo when we find him?"
"The President did not share his thoughts on that with me, Mr. Ambassador."
"Jesus Christ!"
"Yeah. So how you doing? Have you found Castillo?"
"No, but I learned that Alex Darby's in Ushuaia-that's at the southern tip of South America-with some young floozy."
"Darby's doing what?"
"I'm afraid the source is reliable."
"Have you talked to him?"
"I found that out about five minutes ago."
"That might be a good place to stash those Russians."
"That thought occurred to me about ten seconds ago."
"There will be six officers-the most I could scare up on short notice meeting the criteria of reliable and available-on whatever American Airlines flight there is today from Dallas to Buenos Aires, one most likely landing in Argentina in the wee hours of tomorrow morning."
"What the hell is that all about?"
"The President ordered me to send however many men it took to locate and detain the Russians. Shortly, they're on their way there."
"If they should find them, and that's a big if, what are they going to do, kidnap them? The Argentines won't stand for that. No country would."
"This line is terrible. I don't think you heard me when I said, 'The President ordered me to send however many men it took to locate and detain the Russians.'"
"Jesus Christ!"
"Have you found Roscoe J. Danton? More important, have you learned (a) why he's looking for Castillo, and (b) whether he's found him?"
"I'm going to see him tomorrow. After I see the ambassador. I don't know what I'm going to tell him about these people you're sending down here."
"You'll think of something. That's why they pay you the big bucks, Charles."
"Fuck you," Montvale said, and then said, "Break it down." Truman Ellsworth, Mizz Sylvia Grunblatt, I. Ronald Spears, one of his Secret Service agents, and a middle-aged man he did not recognize were waiting for him in the hall outside the communications cubicle.
"Ambassador Montvale," the man said, "I'm Robert Lowe."
When Montvale didn't immediately reply, Lowe added: "From Mexico City."
And you were ordered down here, what? A week ago?
You should have been here the next day.
Where the hell have you been? In one of those hotels on the white sandy beaches of Cancun or Cozumel, saying a tearful goodbye to your twenty-year-old tootsie?
"I'm really glad to see you, Lowe," Montvale said. "We have a situation here that requires someone of your experience, and I might add, of your reputation."
"I'm here to serve, sir."
"I just got off the horn with the DCI," Montvale said. "He tells me there will be six very good officers of the Clandestine Service on the next American Airlines flight from Dallas to help deal with the problem."
"Which is?"
"I can't get into that here." He turned to Sylvia Grunblatt. "Nothing personal, Mizz Grunblatt, but I'm afraid you don't have the need-to-know."
"Mr. Montvale, in Ambassador Silvio's absence, I am acting for him." She lost her diplomatic cool at that moment, and added: "That makes me, as I'm sure you know, the senior officer of the United States in Argentina."
Jesus, now the goddamned press agent is going to give me trouble?
"What you say may well be true, Mizz Grunblatt, but I have only your word for it. On the other hand, I have been-and Mr. Ellsworth has been-sent down here by the President of the United States personally, and until the President tells me otherwise, I'm not going to breach security. Do we understand one another?"
"I think we'll let Ambassador Silvio decide who's right," Grunblatt said.
"I'm looking forward to that," Montvale said. "What I need from you now, Mizz Grunblatt, is a vehicle to pick up these agency people in the morning."
"Can't help you," she said. "For one thing, I told you there are no free vehicles; the ambassador needed everything in the garage. And, now that I think about it, inasmuch as I presume these six spooks are traveling as tourists, rather than government employees-much less accredited diplomatic personnel-I couldn't order the use of government vehicles if I wanted to."
"I'll look forward to seeing you in the morning when I call on the ambassador, Miss Grunblatt," Montvale said. "Where are you staying, Mr. Lowe?"
Sylvia Grunblatt answered for him: "I'm going to put him in the apartment recently vacated by the Darbys."
"You can move in there tomorrow," Montvale said. "We need to talk. I'll put you up in the Alvear Plaza with us. Let's go, gentlemen." The manager on duty at the Alvear was the epitome of courtesy and regret, but there wasn't an available room of any type in the house. He could, however, remove the king-size bed in either Mr. Montvale's suite or Mr. Ellworth's, and replace it with two single beds.
"Put them in Mr. Ellsworth's suite," Montvale ordered, and turned to Ellsworth. "It's only for one night, Truman." An otherwise marvelous dinner in the Alvear Palace's La Bourgogne restaurant was tainted midway by the appearance of the manager on duty. He was profusely sorry to report that the single beds he had planned to put in Mr. Ellsworth's accommodation had already been put into service. He had found another king-size bed, but regrettably, there was not room for it in Mr. Ellsworth's room.
"Would Mr. Montvale possibly consider having it placed in his room?"
"It's only for one night, Charles," Truman Ellsworth said, dripping with compassion. After dinner, I. Ronald Spears was dismissed with orders to find decent accommodations for the men who would arrive in the morning. He was ordered to meet their plane, install them in wherever he had found for them to stay, and then bring them to the Alvear.
Montvale, Ellsworth, and Lowe then went to the Lobby Bar for an after-dinner drink. It was crowded with people of good cheer, but not one of the patrons of either sex would ever see sixty-or maybe sixty-five-again.
They then all went to Montvale's suite, where, after the hotel staff had very carefully-and thus very slowly-installed the extra king-size bed, Montvale explained the situation to the new CIA station chief, Buenos Aires. "So what I would suggest you do, Bob, is send two of the guys coming in to Ushuaia, taking Spears with them. Maybe he can learn something from good officers."
"I still have trouble accepting that Alex Darby is catting around down there with a hooker…"
"Maybe she's not a hooker, Bob. It could be a midlife crisis and he's in love. It could also be-unlikely but possible-that he's sitting on these two Russians for Castillo down there. It sounds like something Colonel Castillo would think up. Anyway, I want two good men down there-with I. Ronald Spears-as soon as they can get there. And I want that town really searched. Got it?"