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"Are you wondering, Karl, if I have become an assassin for hire?" Munz asked.
"That occurred to me."
Munz met his eyes for a long moment.
"If I were in your place, I would wonder, too. The answeris no, I have not. I ask you to consider this: These people have changed my life, too. I bear-and my wife and my family shares-the shame of my being relieved and retired for incompetence. I would really like to find out who they are."
So you can pop them, Alfredo?
"I said the thought had occurred to me. It did, and I dismissed it," Castillo said.
Do I mean that? Or am I already wondering who I can trust to pop him the moment he looks like he's thinking of whacking Lorimer?
I guess I meant it.
But that doesn't mean I shouldn't seriously consider the selection of someone to pop him in case I'm wrong. Or prepare to do it myself.
"Thank you," Munz said.
"Why don't you tell your pilot to fly Alfredo to Jorge Newbery?" Castillo said. "That will make him less curious about what's going on."
Pevsner considered that and nodded.
The maid appeared with a tray laden with hard-crusted lomo sandwiches and a wine cooler filled with ice and beer bottles.
"Ah, our lunch," Pevsner said. Then he turned to Castillo. "Didn't you say something about having to call someone, Charley, to let them know you're with friends?"
"I was lying about that, Alex."
Pevsner looked at him, shook his head, and said, "You sonofabitch. I say that in the sp
irit of friendship and mutual trust, of course." [THREE] Nuestra Pequena Casa Mayerling Country Club Pilar, Buenos Aires Province, Argentina 1505 29 July 2005 Ambassador Juan Manuel Silvio, Ph.D., ambassador extraordinary and plenipotentiary of the President of the United States of America to the Republic of Argentina, was sitting in the living room attired in blue jeans, battered health shoes, and a somewhat ratty-looking sweatshirt on which was the faded logo of Harvard University. He had a beer bottle in his hand.
"Good afternoon, sir," Castillo said.
"Good to see you again, Charley," the ambassador said, rising from his chair to offer his hand. "Do I detect curiosity on your face? Perhaps because of my attire?"
"If I may say so, sir, you're not your usual natty self."
"I'm glad you asked," Silvio said, as he sat down. "When Alex said you wanted to see me and here, rather than at the embassy, the problem then arose, 'How was I going to get out here without having my SIDE escort wonder what I was doing at Our Little House?'"
"So you ditched the SIDE escort?" Castillo said, smiling.
"In a manner worthy of James Bond," Silvio said. "I left the embassy, went to the residence, changed clothes, and went jogging. I led three SIDE stalwarts on a merry chase through the park until they were puffing with the exertion. Then I speeded up the pace until they were far behind. And then I just happened to see a car driven by one of Alex's men, who stopped and offered me a ride."
"Just happened to see it, huh? What they call a fortuitous happenstance?"
Silvio nodded. "I've always wanted to be the subject of an all-points bulletin," Silvio said. "I can just see my good friend the foreign minister somewhat incredulously asking, 'You're telling me you lost the American ambassador?'"
Castillo chuckled, then said, "Thank you for coming, sir."
"Thank you for asking me," Silvio said. "Or aren't you going to tell me what you've been doing? Or plan on doing?"
"Alex," Castillo said, "is there someplace here where the ambassador and I can have a couple of minutes alone?"
Darby pointed through the plate-glass windows toward a small, tile-roofed building in the garden.
"How about the quincho?" he asked. "There's even beer in a refrigerator out there."
