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"Nice people," Castillo said.
"Who are entirely capable of doing the same thing to Betsy Masterson," Lowery went on. "Worst-case scenario, Jack doesn't get Betsy back, and it comes out that he paid a ransom. In violation of strict policy with which he is familiar. That'd mean he would have lost both his wife and his career in the State Department. Or he does get her back, and they find out he's paid the ransom, and that would end his career."
A price any reasonable man would be happy to pay, I think. Wives are more important than money or careers.
I wonder if Mel Gibson came to that conclusion?
"You do have somebody sitting on him?" Castillo asked.
"Excuse me?"
It's cop talk. The first time I heard it was in the Counterintelligence Bureau of the Philadelphia Police Department. Captain O'Brien ordered Sergeant Schneider to sit on Dick Miller and me until further orders. I was more than a little disappointed to realize he only meant that she was to be helpful, while not letting us out of her sight, and ensuring that we didn't do anything we should not be doing.
"Keeping him company," Castillo said.
"Interesting term," Lowery said. "No. I mean, I try to stay in contact with him. But I couldn't assign a guard to him, or anything like that. He has a driver, of course, one of those Argentine security people in civilian clothes. And armed. But he does what Jack tells him, not the other way around. But for one thing, Jack wouldn't permit being followed around by one of my guys, and for another, I don't have much of a staff."
Castillo grunted, then asked, "Is he coming into work?"
"Yes and no. He comes in, but then he leaves. I know that yesterday he took their kids to school and picked them up. And he called in this morning to say he was taking them to school again."
"There's adequate security at the school? He's not worried about something happening to the kids?"
"It's the Lincoln School," Lowery said. "It's an accredited K-through-twelve American school. Many non-American diplomats send their kids there, and a lot of Argentines. Not only does the school have its own security people-the same company we use at the embassy, as a matter of fact-but a lot of the parents station their own security people outside when school is in session. It's one of the safest places in town."
I don't know what I'm talking about, of course, but if my wife was kidnapped, and I knew their school was safe, I'd send them-or take them. Make their life, at least, as normal as possible. Take their minds off Mommy.
A very tall African American in a very well-tailored suit walked into Lowery's office without knocking, followed by a small, plump man with a pencil-line mustache in a rumpled suit.
That has to be Masterson. I wonder who the bureaucrat with him is?
Chief of Mission J. Winslow Masterson smiled absently at Castillo and Santini, and then looked at Kenneth Lowery.
"Anything, Ken?" he asked.
"Not a word, Jack," Lowery said.
"I just dropped the kids at school," Masterson said. "It looked to me like there were more Policia Federal there than usual."
"Could be, Jack," Lowery said.
Masterson looked at Santini.
"Good morning, Tony."
"Good morning, sir. Mr. Masterson, this is Supervisory Special Agent Castillo."
Masterson smiled and put out his hand.
"FBI? From Montevideo? I was just about to go looking for you."
"I'm with the Secret Service, Mr. Masterson," Castillo said. "Just passing through. I just now heard what's happened."
Masterson shook his head but said nothing for a moment. Then he said, "It's the not knowing that's getting to me. What do these bastards want? Why haven't we heard anything from them?"
You poor bastard.
"I was going to suggest, Jack-even before Mr. Castillo showed up-that Tony get together with those FBI people," Lowery said. "If you wouldn't mind, Mr. Castillo. Maybe you and Tony-"
