"And I have told you what that mission is."
"And I have told you I have no idea where Colonel Castillo or the Russian defectors might be. But I'll tell you what I can do: Now that everyone's back from the affair in Mar del Plata, and the embassy's vehicles are back in the motor pool, I'll be happy to augment the Suburban in which you must have been really crammed with a vehicle more in keeping with your rank and position. With a driver, of course. For as long as you're here."
"Thank you very much," Montvale said. "Mr. Ambassador, would you be surprised to hear that your former commercial counselor, and my former Buenos Aires station chief, Alexander Darby, is in Ushuaia?"
"Yes, I would. I was led to believe that Mr. Darby had returned to the United States."
"I have been led to believe he's in Ushuaia with a young Argentine woman."
"I find that hard to believe, Mr. Montvale. How good is your source?"
Montvale ignored the question.
"It occurred to me, knowing what little I do about Ushuaia," he said, "that the southernmost city in South America, as remote as it is, would be an ideal place to hide the Russians. What do you think?"
"I think that's absurd," Silvio said.
"You are telling me, and I will tell the President that you have told me, that you think the possibility that Mr. Darby and/or Colonel Castillo are hiding the Russian defectors in Ushuaia is absurd?"
"Yes, I do. Or, rather, yes, Mr. Montvale, that is exactly what I'm telling you."
"I think I'm wasting my time here," Montvale said, and stood up. "Good afternoon, Mr. Ambassador."
"Good afternoon, Mr. Montvale," Ambassador Silvio said, standing up. "On your way out, ask the Marine guard for your car. If you need to contact me, you have my number."
"Oh, I have your number, Mr. Ambassador," Montvale said, and, without shaking hands, marched out of the office.
Silvio and Ellsworth nodded at each other, and then Ellsworth followed Montvale.
Ellsworth thought: I would bet two cents against a doughnut that nobody-not this fellow Darby, nor Castillo, nor the Russians-is in Ushuaia.
And I will also bet the same amount that the minute we get into the car, Charles is going to say, "Send the other four Clandestine Service officers down there as quickly as possible. That's where everybody is."
Or words to that effect.
Montvale did. [FIVE] Marriott Plaza Hotel Florida 1005 Buenos Aires, Argentina 1620 8 February 2007 It is said that the bar in the Plaza hasn't changed since General Juan Domingo Peron drank there as a corporal. But this is untrue for several reasons, including the fact that General Peron was never a corporal. It can be more accurately said that the bar has changed very little from the time it opened with the hotel a century ago.
It is a warm and comfortable room, with an L-shaped bar tucked into a corner. There are a half-dozen tables and comfortable leather armchairs.
It is as accurate to say the bar is on the floor below the lobby as it is to say it's on the ground floor. Avenida Florida, level for most of its length, takes a steep dip as it passes the Plaza on its way to Avenida Libertador and the main railroad station.
It is thus possible to turn off Florida and enter the bar almost directly. It is also possible, fifty feet away, to turn off Florida and enter the hotel lobby. If one elects the latter choice, then one must take the stairs or the elevator and go down one floor to get to the bar.
The director of National Intelligence, the Honorable Charles M. Montvale, and his executive assistant, the Honorable Truman Ellsworth, entered the bar by coming down the stairs, shortly after being told in the lobby that Roscoe J. Danton was sitting at the bar alone, second stool from the wall.
This information had come to them from Winston Gump, one of the Clandestine Service officers who had arrived in Buenos Aires that morning. Montvale had drafted Gump to attend him-the phrase he used was "work with"-in the belief that one never knew when one might require the skills of a veteran of the Clandestine Service. For his part, Gump was flattered by having been selected to serve-he thought "serve," not "work with"-the most senior person in the American intelligence community and his executive assistant.
Gump did wonder about Executive Assistant Ellsworth. He didn't look like a male version of a super secretary, nor did he look that way, but Gump knew you couldn't always judge a book by its cover, and there were all those stories going around how J. Edgar Hoover and his assistant could hardly wait to get home to put on dresses.
Anything, Gump had learned in his clandestine service, was possible.
"Well, Truman," Montvale said. "Look who's here!"
Ellsworth took the bar stool closest to the wall; Montvale took the one on the other side.
Roscoe J. Danton raised his voice: "Hey, Pedro, look who's here!"
Oh, shit! He's drunk!
On reflection, that might not be entirely a bad thing.
"Friend of yours, Roscoe?" Truman Ellsworth asked as he looked around the bar until he found a man sitting at one of the tables drinking a Coke while trying hard and almost succeeding in pretending he had not heard Danton calling, or seen Danton pointing at Montvale and Ellsworth.
"Not exactly."
"We'll have what our friend is having," Montvale said. "And give him another."
"And maybe one for your not-exactly-a-friend?" Ellsworth asked.
"I'm sure he'd love one, but he's on duty, and from what I've observed, plainclothes officers of the Gendarmeria Nacional do not drink while on duty."
"You're suggesting that you're being surveilled by the Argentines?" Montvale asked.
"It was more a statement than a suggestion, Mr. Ambassador," Danton said. "Either that guy, or one of his cousins, has been with me from the moment I tried to buy a used car."
"You what?"
"A man named Alexander Darby-of whom you may have heard… No. Of whom I'm sure you have heard; he was in the Clandestine Service of the CIA, like the guy I suspect you sent in here a couple of minutes ago-was retiring from government service…"
"You saw Alex, did you, Roscoe?" Ellsworth asked.
Danton nodded, then went on: "… and had put his car up for sale. Clever journalist that I am, I got from the offer of sale his address, which the embassy press officer, Mizz Sylvia Grunblatt, wouldn't give me, citing federal rules vis-a-vis privacy."
"So you saw him?" Ellsworth asked.
"Why did you want to see Darby, Roscoe?" Montvale asked.
The conversation was interrupted by the bartender, who delivered three trays with the proper glasses and other accessories for the whisky-pouring, and a whisky bottle.
"You may have cause to regret your impulsive generosity, Mr. Montvale," Danton said. He pointed to the whisky bottle. "That is The Macallan eighteen-year-old Highland single malt Scotch whisky. Were I not on the expense account-or for your generosity-I would shudder to think of the cost."
"My privilege, Roscoe," Montvale said.
"While he's going through that absolutely marvelous pouring routine, Roscoe, you were about to tell us why you wanted to see Alex Darby," Ellsworth said.
"So I was," Danton said. "So I went to his apartment. He and his wife were there-"
"And how is Julia?" Ellsworth asked.
"Well, now that you mention it, she seemed a little pissed with her husband. But I digress. He was there with another CIA dinosaur, a guy named Delchamps. And, and, and… an Irishman named Duffy, who had with him three guys. Pedro over there was one of them."
Danton waved at Pedro, who did not respond.
"No sooner did I begin to mention that I wanted to ask Darby about a rumor going around-"
"What kind of a rumor?"
"Why do I think you know what kind of rumor?"
"Because, by your own admission, you are a clever journalist," Montvale said. "But tell me anyway."
"Our late, and not too mourned, President had a Special Operations hotshot working for him. Directly for him. An Army guy, a lieutenant colonel named Castillo. Said Special Operations hotshot… I have this from a source I almost believe… is said to have snatched two defecting Russians, big ones-from your CIA station chief in Vienna, Mr. Ambassador-just as she was about to load them on a CIA airplane and ship them to the States. He and they then disappeared.