“Not as well as I would have liked,” Masterson said. He looked expectantly at Castillo.
“Yes, sir. I have news. Whether it’s good or not is a tough call.”
“May I help myself to your coffee?” Masterson asked.
“Oh, hell, excuse me,” D’Allessando said. “Let me get it for you.”
“I’m old but I can still pour my own coffee, thank you just the same.”
As he walked to the wet bar, Masterson saw Corporal Lester Bradley for the first time. Bradley was dozing in an armchair. Masterson looked curiously at Castillo.
“That’s Corporal Bradley of the Marine Corps, sir,” Castillo said.
That woke Bradley up. He erupted from the armchair, saw Masterson, and quickly came to attention.
D’Allessando smiled and shook his head.
“At ease, Corporal,” Castillo said. “This is Mr. Masterson’s father, Bradley.”
“Yes, sir,” Bradley said.
“Bradley was involved in the protection of the family in Buenos Aires,” Castillo said.
“How do you do, Corporal?” Masterson said, advancing on Bradley with his hand extended. “I’m very pleased to meet you.”
God, he’s really a gentleman, Castillo thought. You’d never know from his face that’s he’s wondering what this boy could possibly have been doing on a protection detail. What he’s doing is putting him at ease. That’s class.
“How do you do, sir?” Bradley said.
“Please, sit down,” Masterson said.
Bradley looked at Castillo, who signaled for him to sit down.
Castillo waited until Masterson had poured the coffee.
“Sir,” he began, “the President has authorized me to tell you and Mr. Masterson anything I think I should. I’ll tell you what I know and you can tell me how much I should tell her.”
“Whatever you say.”
“And I have to tell you, sir, that this is highly classified and is to go no further than yourself and Mr. Masterson.”
“There are two ladies so identified,” Masterson said.
“I will trust your judgment with regard to both. And as far as that goes, with regard to Ambassador and Mr. Lorimer.”
“Thank you.”
“Jean-Paul Lorimer,” Castillo reported, “was shot to death by parties unknown at approximately 9:20 p.m. local time, 31 July, in Tacuarembó, Uruguay.”
Masterson’s eyebrows rose.
“You’re sure of this?” Masterson said.
“Yes, sir, I was there,” Castillo said. “As was Corporal Bradley. Bradley took out the men who killed Mr. Lorimer.”
Tha
t got Masterson’s attention. He looked first in uncontrollable surprise at Bradley and then shifted his curious look to Castillo. There was a question in his eyes. It hung in the air but was not asked.