"How do you know that?" Darby challenged.

"… and that he's working for the State Department, not the FBI."

"I don't understand that."

"Neither do I, but I got that from Natalie Cohen. Who has told Ambassador Silvio and Ambassador Whatsisname in Montevideo…"

"McGrory," Darby furnished.

"… to tell him to, quote, put himself and whatever intelligence he has developed, end quote, at my disposal."

"She didn't tell you what he's doing?"

"She's in Singapore-or was-and believe it or not the secure voice links in both her airplane and the embassy were fucked up."

"You want to try to talk to her from the embassy?"

"What I want to do is talk to Yung."

"Here or in Montevideo?"

"Montevideo is where his files are going to be," Castillo said. "I want a look at them. How's the best way to get to Montevideo?"

"Starting about now, there's Austral flights from Jorge Newbery every hour or so. You want me to go with you?"

"What I'd like for you to do is show Lorimer's picture to everybody in the embassy-your people, the DEA, the military people-and see if it rings a bell. Don't tell them why we're looking."

"You have a picture?"

The CIA guy in Paris gave me two. I have them in my briefcase," Castillo said. "If I give you one, can you get me twenty copies of it?"

"No problem," Darby said.

"Do you have a safe house?"

"A safe apartment not far from here, and a safe house in Mayerling. That's a country club out in Pilar."

"Mayerling?" Castillo asked.

"Yeah. Mayerling. Upscale gated community where the guards at the gate have Uzis."

"Mayerling?" Castillo repeated.

"Is there something I don't know, Charley?" Darby asked.

"My mind is flying off at a tangent," Castillo said. "Let's suppose you're an Austrian, and you have some money you're not supposed to have from Oil for Food, and you manage to get the money laundered here in Argentina, and you're looking for an investment-"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I've got an envelope in my briefcase stuffed with names of Germans and Austrians who have-what's the phrase?-'ill-gotten gains' from Oil for Food that they've moved here."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really."

"Are you going to give it to me?"

"No. Sorry. I gave my word as an officer and a gentleman that I wouldn't give it to anybody in the CIA or other agency of the U.S. government.

Tags: W.E.B. Griffin Presidential Agent Thriller
Source: readsnovelonline.net