"No. That's out of the question, I'm afraid. They are not going to turn th
emselves over to the agency."
Montvale exhaled audibly.
He said: "You're telling me that you offered to give them two million dollars to tell you all about the chemical factory in the Democratic Republic of the Congo? God, you don't even know its name!"
I'm not even going to respond to that ridiculous remark.
He's trying to get a rise out of me.
"I know all about that chemical factory," Montvale went on. "There's nothing of interest there." He grinned. "You have been conned out of two million dollars, my young friend."
Castillo caught his pulse rising at the condescension.
Let it go. . . .
He counted to ten, then said in a reasonable tone: "Tell you what. Why don't we call the agency and ask them? If they say there's nothing of interest to our national security there, then once again you've put blind faith in who feeds you your intel. Because they and you are wrong. More egg on their face and more, I'm afraid, on yours. There is a very active chemical laboratory and factory there, funded with oil-for-food money. It has the mission of poisoning the water supplies of our major cities and, they hope, poisoning as many millions of Americans as possible as collateral damage."
"Berezovsky told you this?"
Castillo nodded.
"And you believe him?"
Castillo nodded again.
"I don't have to call the agency to verify what I already know."
"If I were you, I would call," Castillo said. "If you do, and they tell you they're on top of the situation, and there's nothing to worry about, then you'll be covered, with Ambassador Silvio and I as witnesses, when this comes down. You asked and they assured you everything was hunky-dory."
For a moment, Castillo thought Montvale would not reach for the thick-corded secure telephone on Ambassador Silvio's desk, but in the end he did.
"How does this thing work?"
Silvio held out his hand and took the handset from Montvale.
"What we're going to have to do is get a secure line to the State Department switchboard. They can connect you with the CIA," Silvio said, then switched on the secure telephone.
"This is Ambassador Silvio. Get a secure line to State, then get a secure line to the director of Central Intelligence. Ambassador Montvale is calling."
Toward the end of saying "Ambassador Montvale is calling" Silvio had raised his voice questioningly while looking at Montvale, in effect asking, Did Montvale want the DCI or someone else?
Montvale had nodded, signaling that DCI was fine.
"Put it on the speakerphone," Castillo said. "That way Ambassador Silvio and I can both testify that you asked the DCI personally."
Montvale gave him a dirty look, then looked at the phone base and pushed the speakerphone button in time for everyone to hear, "Office of the DCI."
"This is Ambassador Montvale. Get me the DCI, please."
Moments later, the voice of John Powell, the director of the Central Intelligence Agency, inquired cheerfully: "How are you, Mr. Ambassador?"
"I'm well, thank you, Jack."
"What can I do for you?"
"I'm sitting in Ambassador Silvio's office in Buenos Aires."