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"God!"
"As I was saying, after whoever does this rises from the prie-dieu, one of his staff will hand him the Grand Cross of the Great Liberator, which he will then pin to the flag on the casket. He will then return to his alcove. The Mass will start. Communion will be served to the family in their alcove. As soon as the papal nuncio moves across the aisle to do the same for the President, the family will leave their alcove, get back in the motorcade, and head for the airport. This motorcade will not have flashing lights or a motorcycle escort, but it will have lead and chase cars, three of each.
"At the airport, the Mastersons will immediately board the Globemaster III. Meantime, Mass will be offered to the bigwigs and diplomatic corps only-the first four rows of reserved seats. As soon as that's done, the casket will be taken out a side door and loaded into one of the embassy's Yukons, and taken under heavy escort to Ezeiza. As soon as it's on the Globemaster, we go wheels-up for Keesler."
"I'm going to need clothing," Betty said. "Something for the cathedral. And how am I going to get my things from the hotel?"
"You'll be at the hotel tonight," Castillo said.
"Not here?"
"I want you bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for the cathedral and the flight tomorrow." And for tonight, too, as a matter of fact. Bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and naked. "All you could do at the Masterson place is doze in an armchair." While I tossed, sexually frustrated and miserable, alone in my bed.
"I suppose," she said.
"I'll call after I've been to SIDE with Jack and Munz. Then I'm going to see the ambassador and (a) sell him on my plan to get out of here, and (b) get him to sell Mrs. Masterson. I have the feeling if I suggested it, she'd be against it."
"She doesn't like you, that's pretty obvious," Betty said.
"I'll call you later, sweetheart."
"Charley?"
"Yeah?"
"Wiener schnitzel." [SIX] The American Club of Buenos Aires Viamonte 1133 Buenos Aires, Argentina 1430 24 July 2005 SIDE headquarters was not at all like the J. Edgar Hoover Building, which is the FBI headquarters in Washington, or like the CIA complex in Langley, Virginia. It was housed in a nondescript office building half a block off Avenida 9 Julio and two blocks away from the Colon Opera House. As they followed Colonel Munz's Peugeot past the opera house, Sergeant Roger Markham matter-of-factly informed them the opera house had been built in the heyday of Argentina wealth with the primary architectural concern that it be larger and more elegant than the opera houses of Vienna, Paris, and Rome.
There was no sign identifying the building's purpose, and entrance to SIDE headquarters was through a truck loading dock and then onto a freight elevator operated by a man with an Uzi submachine gun hanging from his neck.
Special Agents David William Yung, Jr., and Paul Holtzman of the FBI had been given a small glass-walled office in which to review the reports of the SIDE and other law enforcement investigations. Neither seemed either surprised or pleased to see Castillo and Markham.
And, since those reports are all written in Spanish, it can logically be assumed that they both read and write Spanish.
Colonel Munz announced he had "a few calls to make," and Castillo and Markham sat down at a table beside Yung and Holtzman and started reading the reports.
Alex Darby walked into the small office about an hour later, and a moment later Munz came in.
"I just came from the embassy," Darby announced, "where there are now two demonstrations, one to express sympathy and the other protesting the price of milk or something in Patagonia. There was a third, which seemed to approve of what happened to Jack. That was ended in front of the TV news cameras of the world by twenty guys on horses from the Corps of Mounted Police. There were no flashing sabers, but just about everything else, including Mace. Sylvia Grunblatt's nearly hysterical."
He paused, and looked at Castillo.
"And a guy from your office called. Miller. He said either your cellular doesn't work or you talk a lot. He couldn't get through to you. The message is you're to call your boss on a secure line at four Washington time. Five here."
"Got it."
"And the ambassador wants to be brought up to speed. To avoid the circus at the embassy, he suggests lunch at the American Club. I reserved a private room. He especially hopes you can be there, Alfredo."
"Of course," Munz said.
"Does that include us?" Holtzman asked.
After a moment, Castillo said, "Yes, of course." The American Club was on the eleventh floor of an office building across the street from the Colon Opera House. The first thing Castillo saw when they got off the elevator was a huge American flag which had been flown from a warship off Normandy on D-Day, 1944. It was framed and hung on the wall.
Castillo was a little surprised that Sergeant Roger Markham-who he insisted eat with them-did not deliver a little historical lecture on D-Day activities and World War II in general.
There was a good-looking oak bar with a very appealing display of various spirits.
"Me for one of those," Darby said, heading for the bar. "Possibly two. I have earned it."
