The shooters

XIV

[ONE]

Jet-Stream Aviation

Jorge Newbery International Airport

Buenos Aires, Argentina 1735 12 September 2005 Corporal Lester Bradley was in the copilot seat of the Aero Commander, holding Castillo's laptop, with which Castillo was going to navigate their route to Montevideo. Edgar Delchamps and David Yung sat behind them, trying with little success to get Max to move to the area behind their seats.

"We're up, sir," Bradley announced.

Castillo looked at the laptop screen. There was a representation of an automobile-Casey's programmers had yet to add the option of an aircraft icon-sitting just off the single main runway of the downtown airport.

"You guys ready?" Castillo asked over his shoulder as he reached for the main buss switch.

"Don't wind it up just yet, Ace," Delchamps said. "Daddy has a confession to make."

Castillo turned to look at him.

"Oh, really?"

"Oh, really. And my shame and humiliation is tempered only by the fact that you-once you hear it-are going to have to abjectly apologize for all the unkind things you have been saying about the FBI."

"Time will tell, Edgar," Castillo said.

"You can listen to this, Lester," Delchamps went on, "even though it will probably shatter the childlike faith you have in me. And with the caveat, of course, that once you hear this, I shall probably have to kill you to keep you from spreading this among your friends."

"And you are going to make this confession in the next fifteen minutes or so, right?" Castillo said.

"This is very difficult for me, Ace. I seldom make errors of this magnitude. The last time was in 1986, when I erroneously concluded I had made an error."

Bradley giggled.

"Don't encourage him, for God's sake, Lester," Castillo said. "We'll never get to Montevideo."

"My mistake this time was in thinking I had conned Milton Weiss, when the opposite is true," Delchamps said.

He's serious now. This is no joke.

"That whole scenario about how he and Crawford plan to seize cruise ships is pure bullshit," Delchamps said. "And I not only swallowed it hook, line, and sinker, but encouraged you to do the same. Mea culpa, Ace."

"How do you know?" Castillo asked.

"Inspector John J. Doherty of the blessed Federal Bureau of Investigation, those wonderful checkers of fact, told Two-Gun," Delchamps said. "Before Two-Gun could come from Shangri-La to tell me, Doherty-damn his black Irish heart-got on the Gee-Whiz radio himself to break the news to me as gently as a mother telling her child, 'Sorry, there really is no Santa Claus.' He actually was embarrassed to have to tell me what a spectacular ass I'd made of myself."

"You are going to give us the details, right?" Castillo said, softly.

"Not yet. Not until you say something really nice to Two-Gun, who turned over the rock, so to speak."

"Okay," Castillo said, and turned to Yung. "'Something nice,' Two-Gun. Now, what damn rock did you turn over?"

Yung shrugged. "There was something about that ship-seizure plot that smelled, Colonel," he said. "So I got on the radio to Inspector Doherty, went over all the details we knew of it, then asked him what he thought. It smelled to him, too, so he checked it out. He called me back and said it doesn't work that way. There are fines for companies whose ships do something illegal like moving drugs. But it's not like what the cops can do-seize a car, then have the bad guys go to court and try to get their car back."

Delchamps picked up the story: "According to Doherty, the only way these people could lose their ship is if after a trial-actually, a hearing-there is a fine and they don't pay it. Then the ship could theoretically be sold at auction to pay the fine. According to Doherty, that doesn't often happen-almost never happens-because the fines are never more than a hundred thousand, or two hundred thousand, never anything approaching the value of the ship-"

"And according to Doherty," Yung interrupted, "the only ships that tend to get sold to pay the fine are old battered small coastal freighters, the like of which aren't worth the cost of the fine. The drug people just let them go as a cost of doing business."

"So we was had, Ace," Delchamps said. "Not only was I led down the primrose path, but I held your hand as you skipped innocently along beside me."

"What's their angle?" Castillo asked, almost as if to himself.

"After my admission, I'm surprised you're asking me," Delchamps said.

"Come on, Ed. You made a mistake, that's all."

"I was conned by a guy I knew was a con artist."

"So what's his angle?"

"I have a theory, which of course I can't prove…"

"Let's have it."

"Weiss and Crawford are almost as old as I am. They're close to retirement, and I really don't think they've salted much away for their golden years. Can your imagination soar from that point, Charley?"

"They sold out," Castillo said.

"And justifying their actions-which wouldn't be hard, I admit-by telling themselves the company never appreciated all they'd done for it for all their long years of faithful service, the proof of that being Weiss riding a desk in Langley and Crawford being station chief in godforsaken Asuncion, Paraguay. So why not take a few bucks for slipping the drug guys a little information from time to time? Everybody knows the damn drugs are going to go through anyway."

"I'll be a sonofabitch," Castillo said, softly. "That explains why nobody in Langley knew about their seize-the-cruise-ships operation; there was no seize-the-cruise-ships operation."

"It also explains why they were going to try-probably still are trying-to whack you. You were liable to stumble across something they didn't want you to hear or pass to Langley. So you get whacked, and they, of course, would have no idea who did you…"

"Isn't whacking me a little extreme?"

"So was Weiss coming to me at Langley, and then to you, with that bullshit story. Desperate people do desperate things, Ace. These guys are not only liable to lose their pensions, they're liable to get sent to the slam."

"Okay. Point taken. But doesn't that suggest they'll try to whack you, too? And Two-Gun?"

"And anybody else they consider a threat," Delchamps agreed. "And we must bear in mind they probably have access to the Ninjas."

"And anybody else would include Ambassador Lorimer and his wife. Shit!"

"Yeah," Delchamps agreed. "Including Ambassador Lorimer and his wife. Who will arrive in Montevideo shortly after we do."

Castillo exhaled audibly.

"And with us whacked and pushing up daisies," Delchamps went on, "nobody even hears about the bullshit seize-the-cruise-ships scenario they handed us, because we're the only ones they handed that line to."

"Except Dick Miller," Castillo said. "He eavesdropped on that conversation. And now he's coming down here…where they can whack him, too."

"They don't know he heard it," Delchamps said.

"He's close to me, so they whack him just to be sure. And blame that on the drug guys, too."

"Yeah," Delchamps agreed after a moment.

"So what do we do?" Castillo asked.

"Well, we can go to Langley and tell the DCI or Lammelle. You can go to the DCI or Lammelle without going through Montvale. And an investigation will be started-"

"Which they will hear of," Castillo interrupted, "and so long, Special Agent Timmons."

"Or we can get Timmons back and then go to the DCI…"

"Who may or may not believe us," Castillo said. "More egg on their face."

"Or," Yung put in, "we can try to find out where their money is. I don't think they'd have it in a Stateside bank. Or in Paraguay or Argentina. The Caymans, maybe. Or maybe in Montevideo. I ran across a number of accounts with interesting amounts in them that I couldn't tie to anybody."

"That possible, Two-Gun? That you could tie them to these bastards?" Castillo asked.

"Yeah. With some help. From Doherty, for example. It would take some time, but yeah, Charley. Now that we know what we're looking for."

"Say something nice about the FBI, Ace," Delchamps said.

"Hallelujah, brother!" Castillo said, waving both hands above his head. "I have seen the light! I am now second to no one in my admiration of that splendid law enforcement organization. Just hearing the acronym 'FBI' sends shivers of admiration up and down my spine."

"Actually, it's full of assholes," Yung said. "Inspector Doherty and myself being the exceptions that prove the rule. There may be one or two more."

There were chuckles.

"Sir, me too," Bradley said.

"You too, what, Lester?" Castillo asked.

"I heard what Mr. Weiss told you and Mr. Delchamps about the seize-the-ships op."

"How did you manage that, Corporal Bradley? You were not supposed to be listening."

"I was listening to hear what you were going to say about me going back to the Corps."

"Well, the DCI and Lammelle might have trouble believing you and me, Ace, but all they would have to do is look at the pride of the Marine Corps' honest face and know he is incapable of not telling the truth," Delchamps said.

"I can probably lie as well as any of you," Bradley said, indignantly.

"And probably a lot better than me, Lester," Castillo said. "I say that in all modesty."

"So what do we do now?" Yung asked.

"May I suggest we think that over carefully before charging off in all directions?" Delchamps said. "Wind up the rubber bands, Ace, and get this show on the road."

[TWO] Forty-five minutes later, as the altimeter slowly unwound past 5,000 feet, what had been the dull glow of the lights of Montevideo suddenly became the defined lights of the apartment houses along the Rambla and the headlights of cars driving along it.

"There it is, Lester!" Castillo cried in mock excitement. "Montevideo! Just where it's supposed to be. Will miracles never cease?"

"So the data on the GPS indicates, sir," Bradley said, very seriously, pointing to the screen of the laptop.

Castillo looked. The representation of an automobile was now moving over the River Plate parallel to the Rambla.

What the hell am I going to do with you, Lester?

I can't send you back to the Marine Corps.

Not only do you know too much, but after everything you've been through, you're not going to be happy as a corporal pushing keys on a computer.

"And now if you will excuse me, Lester, I will talk to the nice man in the tower, after which I will see if I can get this aged bird on the ground in one piece."

"Yes, sir."

Castillo reached for the microphone.

"Carrasco approach control, Aero Commander Four Three…"

Five minutes later, as they turned off the Carrasco runway, Bradley said, "There's Chief Inspector Ordonez, sir," and pointed.

Castillo looked.

Ordonez was leaning against the nose of a helicopter sitting on the tarmac before the civil aviation terminal.

I wonder what he wants?

That's one of the old and battered police Hueys I am about to replace for him.

But that's an Aerospatiale Dauphin parked next to it.

I thought he said there was only one of those, and that it belonged to the president.

What the hell is going on?

And how the hell did he know we were going to be here?

Ordonez was standing outside the Aero Commander when Castillo opened the cabin door.

"There has been a development, Colonel," he said without any preliminaries.

"And how are you, Chief Inspector Ordonez?" Castillo said.

Ordonez ignored the greeting.

"Would you be surprised to hear that your secretary of State has evinced an interest in the welfare of Ambassador Lorimer and his wife?"

"No. I wouldn't."

"I thought so."

"'I thought so' what?"

"That you were behind what has happened. What's it all about? I don't like being pressured."

"Would you be surprised to hear I have no idea what you're talking about?"

Max exited the airplane and made for the nose gear. Delchamps, Yung, and Bradley got out and looked at Ordonez.

"I'd heard you'd left the estancia," Ordonez said to Yung. "By car, in the middle of the night, and had gone to Argentina."

Which means he has people watching Shangri-La.

Why not?

Is that what's got him pissed off?

"I wasn't aware he needed your permission to do anything," Castillo said.

"It was not in connection with your secretary of State? Is that what you're saying?"

"No, it was not."

"Then what?"

"In my experience, Ordonez," Castillo said, "when someone in your frame of mind-to use the Norteamericano phrase, 'highly pissed off'-asks a question, he usually thinks he has the answer and is not interested in yours, even if yours happens to be the truth. Would I be wasting my breath, in other words?"

"I suggest you try answering and we'll find out," Ordonez said.

Okay, bluff called.

When in doubt, tell the truth.

"Okay," Castillo said. "We have reason to believe-Yung found out-that the CIA station chief in Asuncion is dirty. Ninety percent certainty. He went to Argentina to tell Delchamps and me, if he could find me."

Ordonez looked at him very closely.

Somehow, I don't think that's what you expected to hear, is it, Jose?

"Wrong answer, Jose?" Castillo said, smiling at him.

"Not what I expected," Ordonez said. "Is that true, David?"

Yung nodded.

"Then I apologize," Ordonez said. "I had decided that you were entirely capable of doing something like that, and probably had. But I couldn't figure out why."

"Done something like what?"

"At eleven o'clock this morning, I was summoned-together with the minister of the interior-to the Foreign Ministry. The President was there. They had just been on a conference call with our ambassador to Washington. He reported that your secretary of State had requested a, quote, personal service, unquote, from him, and requested that he receive her at his earliest convenience. Half an hour later, she was at our embassy. She told him that she was very deeply concerned about the welfare of Ambassador Lorimer and his wife, who-against her advice and wishes-were already on their way to Estancia Shangri-La. She said the ambassador has a serious heart condition, which had been almost certainly exacerbated by the loss first of his son and then of his home in New Orleans during Hurricane Katrina.

"She asked, as a personal request, not as the secretary of State, that we do whatever we could for Ambassador Lorimer and his wife." He paused. "The President thought that was amusing."

"Amusing?"

"He said the lady may have gone to see the ambassador as a private citizen, but that inasmuch as she is the secretary of State, your American eagle was sitting on her shoulder."

"I'll tell you what I know, Jose," Castillo said. "She likes Ambassador Lorimer. I don't even know how she knows him, but she likes him. She doesn't want him down here, she told him that personally, and she sent me to Mississippi-where he and his wife were staying with Masterson's widow and her father-to talk him out of coming. I couldn't. My only connection with this was to send my airplane, the Gulfstream, to bring them here. That would at least spare them the hassle of going through airports.

"So, what I'm saying is that your ambassador got what he saw, a very nice lady worried about a nice old man. She had no other agenda."

"And what are you going to tell this nice old man about your plans for Estancia Shangri-La? Have you considered that?"

"He knows," Castillo said.

"He knows?" Ordonez asked, incredulously.

"That was my hole card in trying to talk him out of coming. I played it. And it didn't work."

"Well, let me tell you how this very nice lady's concern for a nice old man is going to complicate things for you, Castillo. The President-not my chief, the interior minister, and not the foreign minister, but my president-pointed a finger at me and told me I was now responsible for the comfort and safety of Ambassador Lorimer and his wife as long as they are in Uruguay. If I don't believe I can adequately protect them with any of our police agencies, it can be arranged for a company of our infantry to conduct routine maneuvers near Estancia Shangri-La for as long as necessary.

"To spare the ambassador and his wife the long ride by car from here to the estancia-and to preclude any chance of a mishap on the road-I am to suggest to them that they accept the President's offer of his personal helicopter"-he pointed at the Aerospatiale Dauphin-"to transport them to the estancia.

"By the time the helicopter would have reached Shangri-La-this was the interior minister's 'suggestion'-I would have ensured that the estancia had been visited by appropriate police officials under my command to make sure there were no security problems."

He paused.

Castillo thought, He's actually out of breath!

"You sound as if there's some reason you can't do that," Castillo said.

"Can't do what?"

"Take the Lorimers to the estancia in the President's helicopter."

"How are you going to take them there in the dark?" Ordonez said, gesturing.

"Speaking hypothetically, of course, I think that would pose no problem. What you do is fly there, and when people on the estancia, who are expecting you, hear you overhead, they turn on the headlights of their cars, which have been positioned to light the field near the house. And then you land."

"How are you going to find Shangri-La?"