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"He works for the UN," Castillo said. "That's about all I know, except what Alex told me about his not getting along with Masterson."
"I met him once, years ago," Silvio said. "He has some sort of liaison, coordination-of-agencies job in Paris. I was thinking of perhaps trying to get in touch with him, so that he could break this news to his father, who has some sort of heart problem."
"Sir-Alex, do you know his name?"
"Lorimer," Alex said. "Jean-Pierre, Jean-Paul, something like that. French. The ambassador's-Betsy's father's-first name is Philippe."
"They're French?"
"Maybe way back, way way back, like Jack's family," Darby said. "Jack used to delight in telling people who hated the South that there were three Mastersons-'free men of color'-who were Confederate officers, two in the navy and one in the army. If he was really pulling their chain, he'd say the family had made its money in the slave trade."
Silvio chuckled.
"Was there money, Alex?" Castillo asked. "Before he was run over by the beer truck?"
"Not that kind of money, but yeah. Both families are more than-what's the word?-'comfortable.' Sugar, I think, and cotton. Growing it and dealing in it."
"Mr. Ambassador," Charley said, "I was going to suggest that you get in touch with the State Department and see if we can get a location, maybe even a telephone number, on the brother. In case we can't get that information from Mrs. Masterson."
"I'll get right on it," Silvio said, "and if you'd like, I'll go to the German Hospital with you and introduce you and Tony to Mrs. Masterson."
"Thank you, sir. That will be very helpful." [SIX] The German Hospital Avenida Pueyrredon Buenos Aires, Argentina 1305 23 July 2005 El Coronel Alfredo Munz of SIDE walked up to them as they entered the lobby of the hospital.
"Your Excellency, gentlemen," he said in Spanish. "What a fortunate happenstance. I was about to call Senor Castillo and ask if he could spare me a moment of his time."
"Fortunate happenstance," my ass. Munz wasn't surprised at all to see us. He was waiting for us, which means he knew we were coming here.
How did he do that?
He's got somebody inside the embassy, more than likely, to keep an eye on things generally and the ambassador in particular. Somebody who heard the ambassador call for his car to bring us here, or someone listening to that allegedly encrypted radio in his car, or Darby's, or maybe hearing the Marine guard calling Lowery to update him on the ambassador's location.
Why am I surprised? Both Darby and Santini told me SIDE's good, and with this business going on, they've got their act in high gear.
But what does he want with me?
"Mi coronel, I am at your disposal," Castillo said, and then, to the ambassador, "Sir, why don't you go up to Mrs. Masterson's room? I know where it is and I can catch up with you." Munz led Castillo to a corner of the lobby.
"You have at once greatly d
isappointed several important people in the Ministry of Information, Herr Gossinger," Munz said in German, "and added a little excitement to what I'm sure you and I would both regard as their rather boring and mundane lives."
Oh, shit. He found out I entered the country as Gossinger.
And I never went to the Ministry of Information to register as a journalist.
Castillo smiled at him.
"How is that, Herr Oberst?" he replied in German.
Munz handed him a sheet of paper. It was a copy of the immigration form Castillo had filled out on the airplane and handed to the immigration officer at the airport. It also had his photograph, obviously taken by a good and unobtrusive camera as he stood at the immigration booth.
"They so wanted to explain to a prominent German journalist how concerned the Argentine government is with this sad situation, and then, when you failed to show up at the Ministry of Information, as you promised to do, they thought that perhaps this German fellow had something to do with the villains we're looking for."
"Actually, my name is Gossinger," Charley began.
"I know. I took the trouble to find out. The German embassy told me you are not only a distinguished foreign correspondent for the Tages Zeitung, but the great-great-grandson of the founder. What a wonderful cover! A second persona that is real."
"I feel like a kid caught with my hand in the cookie jar. What happens now?"
