"I also have heard a rumor that the Russian defectors told this hotshot that the Russians, the Iranians, and other people had a biological warfare factory in the Congo, and that he told the President, whereupon we went immediately to DefConTwo, and shortly thereafter a chunk of the Congo was hit by everything in the arsenal of democracy except nukes."
"You told Alex… and this Irish fellow, Duffy… all that?" Ellsworth asked.
"I didn't get two words beyond mentioning Costello's… Castillo's… name when suddenly I was being asked for my identification and being patted down by Pedro over there."
Danton smiled and waved at Pedro again.
He went on: "Duffy then told me there was a question with my papers, but since I was a friend of Mr. Darby, instead of being hauled off to Gendarmeria Nacional headquarters until it could be straightened out, they would allow me to spend the night here in the River Plate Marriott. And they would be happy to drive me there."
"Where do you think Alex is now, Roscoe?"
"Well, he's not in his apartment. The next morning, Duffy showed up here and said that I was free to go. He was sure that I understood the situation and was grateful for my understanding. He also said that if I thought I would need a remise-that's sort of a taxi-to get around Buenos Aires, he knew one he could recommend.
"So, I got in the remise and went back to Darby's apartment. He was gone.
"I still had one card to play. You remember the Secret Service guy on the presidential protection detail who fell off the bumper of the limousine?"
"Tony Santini," Montvale said. "Good man."
"Yes, he is. We have shared a drink or two on occasion. Well, when I knew I was coming down here I remembered that when he got fired from the protection detail, they sent him down here to look for funny money. So, I tried to call him. I got some other Secret Service guy on the phone who told me Tony had retired, but that he thought he was still in Argentina in a country club-that's Argentine for really tightly gated community-outside of town. I remembered the address: the Mayerling Country Club in Pilar. I've got a cousin named Pilar, and Mayerling was the Imperial Austrian hunting lodge where Emperor Franz Josef's son shot his sixteen-year-old girlfriend and then committed suicide.
"So, I got in the remise Duffy suggested, and told the driver to take me out to this place. We go instead to the Gendarmeria Nacional headquarters. Out comes Duffy, now in uniform. He's the generalissimo or something of the Gendarmeria Nacional. Duffy says I really don't want to go to Mayerling. Too dangerous. People started out for Mayerling and were never heard from again. I got the message."
"So, you never got to see Tony," Montvale said. "Pity. I'm sure he would have helped you."
"Yeah, probably."
"Roscoe, we may be in a position to help each other," Montvale said. "Can we go off the record?"
"Yeah, sure. But why bother? You tell me something, I report it, and then you say, 'I never said that,' and Ellsworth says, 'That's right. I was there and the ambassador never said anything like that.'"
"Let me rephrase. What if these rumors you heard were true? What if there was a renegade lieutenant colonel named Castillo who did in fact snatch two senior Russian defectors from the CIA station chief in Vienna? What if he's now trying to sell them to the CIA?"
"No shit?"
"What if the President sent an unnamed but very senior intelligence official-"
"Who used to be a diplomat, Mr. Ambassador?"
"-down here with orders to find Colonel Castillo and these two Russians and then load them onto an airplane and fly them to the States?"
"You're going to pay the ransom, or whatever?"
"That's the point. I'm trusting your discretion on this, Roscoe. I know you're a patriotic American. No. The United States of America will not ransom the Russians. But they will be returned to the States and turned over to the CIA."
"Kidnap them back, you mean?"
"The Russians will be returned to the United States and turned over to the CIA. And Colonel Castillo will be returned to the United States and the United States Army for what is euphemistically known as 'disciplinary action.'"
"Jesus!"
"My search for these people has met with more success than yours, Roscoe," Montvale said.
"You know where they are?"
"I'm in a position to offer you confirmation of those rumors you heard. I'm further in a position to give exclusive rights to-what shall I say?-'the repatriation process' and to the Russians, and to Colonel Castillo."
"If I what?"
"How do I put this? If, splendid journalist that you are, you nevertheless failed to notice any unpleasantness that may occur during the repatriation process, any minor violations of Argentine law-or, for that matter, of American law. Do you take my meaning?"
Roscoe J. Danton thought: Fuck you, Montvale.
Once I'm back in the States, I'll write whatever the hell I feel like writing about anything I see.
Roscoe J. Danton said: "Deal. When does this come down?"
"Now. Truman, please call that Air Force colonel and have the plane ready by time we get to the airport."
Truman Ellsworth said, "Yes, sir."
Truman Ellsworth thought: If I thought there was any chance at all of Castillo, the Russians, or even Alex Darby actually being in Ushuaia, I would at this moment be experiencing shortness of breath, excruciating pain in my chest, and numbness of my left arm and waiting for the ambulance to haul me off to whatever hospital the embassy sends visiting VIPs suffering a heart attack.
But since I'm sure that all he's going to find down there-at best-is Alex Darby suffering a midlife crisis in the arms of a girl young enough to be his daughter, I'm going to pretend I believe this idiocy.
For one thing, I simply have to see how Charles tries to talk himself out of this fiasco once it comes tumbling down around him. I would never forgive myself if I didn't. [ONE] The Oval Office The White House 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, N.W. Washington, D.C. 1405 8 February 2007 Secretary of State Natalie Cohen, Director of the Central Intelligence Agency John Powell, Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation Mark Schmidt, and General Allan B. Naylor, the commanding general of the United States Central Command, were all in the reception area of the Oval Office when the President of the United States, having returned from his trip to Chicago, entered.
They all rose to their feet when they saw the President. He acknowledged none of them.
Instead, Joshua Ezekiel Clendennen continued walking into his office, sat in the leather chair behind his desk, and issued two orders: "Get me some coffee. And then let them in."
Three minutes later, Cohen, Powell, Schmidt, and Naylor filed into the Oval Office.
"I'm glad you weren't in Timbuktu, General," Clendennen said.
Thinking that the President was joking, Naylor replied in kind: "That's next Thursday, Mr. President."
"You're not going anywhere, General, until this business is finished," the President snapped.
"Yes, sir," General Naylor said.
"Sit down," the President said, gesturing to all of them.
"General, C. Harry Whelan, Jr., and Andy McClarren were talking about you on Wolf News last night. Are you aware of that?"
"Yes, sir."
"Whelan told McClarren that the chief of staff of the Army no longer runs it-he's just in charge of administering it-and that since Central Command controls more troops, more airplanes, more ships, and more military assets in more places all around the world than any other headquarters, then that makes you, as its commanding general, the most important general in the Army. Did you see the program, by any chance?"
"It was brought to my attention, Mr. President."