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Ambassador Silvio hung up the secure telephone and picked up the one connected to the embassy switchboard. He punched one of the buttons.
"Silvio here. Will you have a car for me at the residence immediately, please? And inform Mr. Lowery that I will be going to Mr. Masterson's home?" [SEVEN] The Breakfast Room The Presidential Apartment The White House 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, NW Washington, D.C. 0815 21 July 2005 "Let me have that business about the diplomat's wife again, please," the President of the United States said to the deputy director of Central Intelligence, who had just finished delivering the Daily Intelligence Summary.
The DDCI read again the paragraph of the DIS reporting the kidnapping of Mrs. Masterson. It was essentially a condensation of the memorandum prepared by the Southern Cone desk officer for the secretary of state.
When he had finished, the President asked, "That's all we have?"
"We have just a little more, Mr. President, not in the DIS."
The President gestured, somewhat impatiently, with the fingers of his left hand, that he wanted to hear it.
"When I was at Langley earlier, Mr. President, our station chief in B.A. called. Five-thirty our time, six-thirty in B.A. I talked to him myself. He said that the Argentine cops were really active-the phrase he used was they 'had rounded up all the usual suspects'-and that there had been no word from the kidnappers, and that two FBI agents from the Montevideo embassy had been on the first flight."
"What's that about?"
"Apparently there are no FBI agents in the B.A. embassy, Mr. President. There's half a dozen in Montevideo."
"What the hell is this all about, Ted?" the President asked.
"I just don't know, Mr. President. But I'm sure there will be more details very soon."
"My curiosity is in high gear," the President said.
"Mine, too, Mr. President. It sounds wacko, frankly. If you'd like, I can call you whenever I hear something else."
"Do that, Ted, please."
"Yes, sir. Will that be all, Mr. President?"
"Unless you'd like another cup of coffee."
"I'll pass, thank you just the same, Mr. President."
"Thanks, Ted," the President said.
The President watched as the DDCI left the room, and then-almost visibly making a decision as he did so-topped off his coffee cup.
"What the hell, why not?" he asked aloud, and picked up the telephone.
"Will you get me the secretary of state, please?" "Good morning, Mr. President," Dr. Natalie Cohen answered her phone.
"Natalie, you want to give me your take on that diplomat's wife who got kidnapped in Argentina?"
"That made the DIS, did it?"
"Uh-huh. What's going on?"
"I talked to the ambassador late last night, Mr. President. He-I guess I should say 'they'-don't know very much. He said kidnapping down there is a cottage industry, and he hopes that's all it is. I told him to call me with any developments, but so far he hasn't."
"At the risk of sounding insensitive, I could understand some lunatic trying to assassinate the ambassador, or this woman's husband, but…"
"The ambassador said just about the same thing, Mr. President. He can't understand it, either."
"Ted Sawyer said the CIA guy down there called this morning and said the embassy in Uruguay had sent a couple of FBI agents from the embassy there. How come we don't have FBI agents in Buenos Aires? That embassy is bigger than the one in Uruguay, right?"
"The money laundering takes place in Uruguay; that's where they need the FBI."
"He also said the Argentines had really mobilized their police."
