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"You all might as well hear this," Silvio said. "I'm torn between my sense of duty as a diplomat and my personal feelings. The Argentines are determined to go ahead with this business of having Mr. Masterson's casket lying in state in the Catedral Metropolitana and awarding him the medal-the Grand Cross of the Great Liberator. Officially, I a
m delighted. Personally, and not only because I knew Jack well enough to know that his reaction would be, 'A medal? For what? Getting shot?' I wish the Argentines hadn't had the idea. I also don't like the idea of exposing Mrs. Masterson and the children to any possible danger."
"Colonel Munz assures me, sir," Santini said, "that the level of protection being established at the cathedral will be as good, if not better, than that provided to the President. I almost asked him when was the last time someone took a shot at his President, then realized that with the country's economy still in dire straits, there likely have been some serious threats. The bottom line, sir, is that I really can't fault Munz's plans. And I'll be with her, and Special Agent Schneider and some other of our people."
"And the government would be-perhaps understandably-upset if I just told them, 'Thank you, but no thank you,' " Silvio said, and then looked at Castillo. "Charley?"
"Sir, isn't it her call?" Castillo asked. "If she doesn't want to go to the cathedral, we can say, truthfully, that she's just too grief-stricken. I think the Argentines would understand that."
"You mean, have the casket lie in state, but not have Mrs. Masterson participate in the decoration ceremony?"
"Yes, sir."
"That's a good thought."
"Sir, I'd like to get the Mastersons out of the country as soon as possible. When are they going to let her leave here?"
"She can leave anytime," Santini answered. "They did another blood workup first thing this morning. She's clean."
"When do the Argentines want to start the show?" Castillo asked.
"They want to move the body to the cathedral this afternoon," Silvio said. "Then, they will permit the public to pay its respects from six until ten tonight, and from eight to ten in the morning. They're going to provide an honor guard, and I've asked the Marines to be ready to do the same. They've scheduled the award ceremony for ten, starting with a mass, which will be celebrated by the papal nuncio. Fortunately, Jack was a Roman Catholic."
"As opposed to being a Southern Baptist, you mean?" Santini said, and immediately added, "I didn't mean to be flippant."
"If Jack had been a Southern Baptist, or Jewish, or a Mormon," the ambassador said, "that probably would pose a problem."
"How's the security at her house?" Castillo asked.
"I went out there in the wee hours," Santini replied. "It looked fine to me."
"And if she leaves the hospital in, say, an hour, how long is it going to take to set up a secure motorcade?"
"Munz says give him thirty minutes' notice. He has people standing by."
"Will the motorcade be secure?" Ambassador Silvio asked.
"Actually, sir, there will be three motorcades," Santini said, "each consisting of a Gendarmeria National lead car, followed by a Policia Federal car, followed by two armored embassy cars with blacked-out windows, followed by another Policia Federal car and an ambulance and a Gendarmeria chase car. They will go to the house in San Isidro by three different routes. The embassy cars will have security personnel in both. Mrs. Masterson will be in one of them."
"Which one?" Castillo asked.
"I'll decide that just before we leave the hospital," Santini said.
Castillo had just thought, That three-motorcade business is really clever; thank God Santini really knows how to handle things like this, when the ambassador asked, "Sound good to you, Charley?" which brought on the sobering realization, Jesus Christ, Santini may be good, but this is my responsibility.
"It sounds fine to me, sir," Castillo said.
"Well, let's go see how Mrs. Masterson feels about all this," Ambassador Silvio said. "As Charley says, it's her call."
No, Castillo thought, it's not. It's mine. I have both the responsibility for her safety, and the authority to say, "No way are we going to put her in the line of fire again. I don't care if the Argentines like it or not." The roll-down metal shutters over the windows of Elizabeth Masterson's room were closed. The fluorescent lights in the room were harsh.
She was sitting in an armchair, wearing a dressing gown. The ashtray on the small table beside her was full of butts. Most of them were long, as if she'd taken just a few puffs before putting them out.
"Good morning, Betsy," Ambassador Silvio said, taking the dirty ashtray from the table and handing it to one of the guards at the door with the unspoken order to bring a clean one. "How are you?"
"How would you suppose I am, Mr. Ambassador?" she asked, sarcastically.
"I hoped I was Juan to you, Betsy," Silvio said. "You remember Mr. Castillo from yesterday?"
