"Why?"
"Isn't that where we're going?"
"No, it isn't," O'Day said, and changed the subject. "I'll forget what you tell me in thirty seconds. But what's the real chances of getting young Byron Timmons back from those bastards? And not hooked on something?"
"You heard about that, huh?"
"His father and I go back a long way," O'Day said. "He showed me Junior's letters. A good kid. I shouldn't have said that. Young Byron's a good man."
"All I can tell you is that we're going to try like hell," Castillo said. "With a little luck…"
"Yeah. I get the picture," O'Day said. "I was afraid of that. Thanks."
A few minutes later, Castillo realized they were not headed downtown. Instead, they were moving through a residential area, and he guessed from that that they were going to the Timmons home. Proof seemed to come several minutes after that, when they turned one more corner and then stopped before a simple brick house on a side street.
There was a police patrol car parked half up on the sidewalk, and three more cars-unmarked but rather obviously police cars-parked in the driveway beside the house.
"Here we are," he said. "I don't envy you, Colonel."
Castillo got out of the car and waited for the second car, which was carrying McGuire, Munz, and Lorimer. He wordlessly indicated that he and Lorimer would follow Captain O'Day up to the door and the others were to follow.
Before the door chimes finished playing "Home Sweet Home," the door was opened by a gray-haired, plump, middle-aged woman wearing a cotton dress and a pink sweater.
She looked at Castillo and then at Lorimer.
"You're Eddie," she said. "I've seen your pictures."
"Yes, ma'am," Lorimer said.
"Is it okay if I kiss you?" she asked.
"Yes, ma'am."
She hugged and kissed him.
"Honey," she called. "Junior's buddy Eddie is here."
A large man in the uniform of a police captain walked up to them and put out his hand.
"I'm Junior's-Byron's-dad."
"Yes, sir, I know," Lorimer said. "I've seen your pictures, too."
Captain Byron Timmons, Sr., looked at Castillo.
"Sir," Lorimer said, "this is Colonel Castillo."
Timmons crushed Castillo's hand in his massive hand.
"Colonel, I can't tell you how happy I am to see you," he said. "The President told the mayor that if anybody can get my son back from those bastards, you're him."
"I'm going to try very hard, sir," Castillo said.
"Well, just don't stand there in the door," Mrs. Timmons said. "Come in and meet the others. There's coffee and cake."
Captain Timmons took Castillo's arm in a firm grasp and led him through a short corridor to a living room. There were two women there, who looked like Mrs. Timmons, and half a dozen men, two in police uniform and four in casual clothes, who, Castillo decided, might as well have had POLICEMAN painted on their foreheads.
"This is Colonel Castillo," Captain Timmons announced. "The man the President says can get Junior back. The lieutenant is Eddie Lorimer, Junior's pal down there in Paraguay. I don't know who the others are. Colonel, what about identifying the others, and then I'll introduce everybody?"
"Yes, sir," Castillo said. "This is Colonel Jake Torine, U.S. Air Force, that's Tom McGui-"
"They've got their own Gulfstream airplane," Captain O'Day furnished.
"I wondered how they got here so quick," one of the cops said.
"…Tom McGuire," Castillo went on, "who's a Supervisory Special Agent of the Secret Service, and this gentleman is Colonel Alfredo Munz, who before his retirement was Chief of SIDE in Argentina. SIDE is sort of our CIA and FBI rolled into one. Munz now works with us."
"I thought Junior was in Paraguay," one of the cops said.
"Paraguay and Argentina share a border, sir," Castillo said.
"Okay, now it's my turn," Captain Timmons said, motioning for Castillo to follow him to the people sitting on a couch, two matching armchairs, and two chairs obviously borrowed from the dining room.
"This is Captain, retired, Frank Timmons, Junior's grandfather, known as Big Frank."
"And I'm the goddamned fool, Colonel, God forgive me, who told Junior to go federal."
Castillo shook Big Frank's hand, then Lorimer and McGuire and Munz followed suit.
"And this is Sergeant Charley Mullroney, Junior's sister Ellen's husband-that's her over there. Charley works Narcotics on the job."
Castillo shook Mullroney's hand, then smiled and nodded at Mrs. Mullroney across the room.
"And this is Stan Wyskowski, of the DEA, Charley's pal."
"And I'm the guy who got Junior in the DEA, Colonel."
Castillo shook Wyskowski's hand.
Wyskowski, I admire your balls for being here. That has to be tough.
"And this is the mayor," Captain Timmons said.
Jesus H. Christ! I thought he was another cop-relative.
"The President speaks very highly of you, Colonel," the mayor said as he shook Castillo's hand. "I'm happy to meet you, and that you are here."
"An honor, sir," Castillo said. "I'm sorry I have to be here under these circumstances."
"Well, Colonel, I've always found the way to deal with a problem is get it out in the open and then start working on it."
"Yes, sir," Castillo said.
"And this," Captain Timmons said, moving to the third man on the couch. "is…"
Castillo shook that man's hand, but his name-or those of the others-failed to register in his memory.
His mind was busy thinking of something else…
The mayor, who the President has made perfectly clear is to get whatever he wants from me, is not just doing a friend of the family a favor.
He's part of this family.
"And that's about it, I guess," Lorimer said when he had finished telling everybody what he knew of the situation.
He did that about as well as it could be done, Castillo thought.
"Would it be all right if I called you 'Eddie'?" Captain Timmons asked.
"Yes, sir, of course."
"That was a good job, Eddie," Captain Timmons said. "I don't have any questions. Anybody else?"
"I got a couple," Big Frank said.
"Sir?" Lorimer asked politely.
"That Irish Argentine cop, Duffy, Junior was on his way to see when these slimeballs grabbed him. Are there a lot of Irish cops down there? And is this one of the good ones? And what's the Gendarmeria Nacional?"
Lorimer glanced at Castillo, who nodded just perceptibly.
"I know Byron trusted Comandante Duffy, sir," Lorimer said. "But maybe Colonel Munz can speak to that?"
"I know Comandante Duffy," Munz said. "Not well, but well enough to know that he's a good man. I haven't spoken to him since this happened, but he's about the first man I'm going to talk to when we get down there. I'm sure he's almost as upset about Agent Timmons as you are."
Big Frank nodded.
Munz went on: "So far as Irish people in Argentina, the ethnic mix in Argentina-and Uruguay and Chile, but not Paraguay-is much like that in the States. My family came from Germany, for example. There are more people from Italy than from Spain. And many Irish. There are many Irish police, especially in the Gendarmeria Nacional."
"Which is what?" Big Frank said.
"A police force with authority all over Argentina," Munz said. "They are a paramilitary force, more heavily armed than the Federal Police. They wear brown rather than blue uniforms, and enjoy the trust of the Argentine people."
"What does that mean?" Big Frank asked. "The other cops aren't trusted?"
"Can we agree, Captain, that dishonest police are an international problem?" Munz asked reasonably. "And that the problem is made worse by all the cash available to drug people? Or, for that matter, the criminal community generally?"
"I'd have to agree with that," the mayor said.
"Let me put it this way," Munz said. "When the Jewish Community Center was blown up in Buenos Aires several years ago-"
"Blown up?" Captain Timmons asked. "By who?"
"Most of us believe the Iranians had something to do with it," Munz said. "But the point I was trying to make was, when it became obvious that protection of synagogues, etcetera, was going to be necessary, the Jewish community-there are more Jews in Argentina than any place but New York-demanded, and got, the Gendarmeria Nacional as their protectors."