"But she'll be all right?"
"I think so. Yes."
"Anna was concerned."
"I don't suppose you've heard anything?"
"My source-and he's close to a man named Munz, who is the power at SIDE-tells me he doesn't think this is a kidnapping for ransom."
"He say what he thinks it is?"
"He doesn't have any idea, and neither, apparently, does Colonel Munz. If I hear anything, I'll let you know. Is it all right if I call your cellular number?"
"Of course."
"Let me give you the numbers here," Pevsner said, and did so. "Goerner."
"Did you get my Masterson story?"
"I'm fine, Karl. And how are you? I've been a little concerned."
"About what?"
"I got your story. Very interesting. So far, there's nothing on the wires or CNN."
"There will be shortly."
"I'm impressed with your-what do they say in the States? Your 'scoop.'"
"Well, I try to earn my keep."
"I hope you haven't had time to work on the oil-for-food scandal I mentioned."
"I haven't. Why do you ask?"
"I got a story from our guy in Vienna yesterday. I would have called to tell you about it, but, as usual, I didn't know where to find you. If you check your e-mail, you'll find a rather anxious message from me. There's also a rather pointed message on your voice mail at the Mayflower in Washington."
"What sort of a story?"
"The Vienna police were called to an apartment on the Cobenzlgasse to investigate a terrible odor. It came from the decomposing corpse-he'd apparently been dead for ten days or so-of a Lebanese man named Henri Douchon."
A mental image of the Cobenzlgasse, the cobblestone street in Grinzing leading up the hill to the Vienna Woods, popped into Castillo's mind. He had met Alex Pevsner for the first time at the top of the hill.
"Who's he?"
"From what I've been told, he was a middleman, a very important middleman, in the oil-for-food arrangement; the illegal part."
"What's that got to do with me?"
"According to my man, before they cut Herr Douchon's throat-almost decapitating him-they pulled several of his fingernails out, and several of his teeth. He was strapped into a
chair."
"Jesus!"
"I don't want anyone pulling your teeth out with a pair of pliers, Karlchen, much less cutting your throat. I want you to forget everything I told you about there possibly being an Argentine connection."
"That cow is out of the barn, Otto."