The Hunters (Presidential Agent 3)
“So?”
“Hiding Billy Kocian is going to be as easy as hiding a giraffe on the White House lawn.”
“True,” Torine said. “The old guy is spectacular. I love his hat.”
He mimed Kocian’s up on one side and down on the other hat brim.
“You’re going to move him in here,” Lopez asked, “after all that business about renting the safe house right now?”
“No. But I’m going to keep this apartment and tell the hotel that Mr. Eric Kocian of the Tages Zeitung newspapers will be staying here —when he is not staying in a Pilar country house that the newspaper has rented for him— and to continue to send the bills to the newspaper. And when I get out to the safe house and can get a secure line to the White House switchboard, I’m going to call Otto and tell him to call the German ambassador to tell him who Eric is and that he’s here—and why—and to…”
“Why is he here?” Torine asked.
“He’s working on three stories,” Castillo said. “One, some character from Hamburg is going to try to raise the Graf Spee from its watery grave off Montevideo. Two, he’s going to do a piece on the German sailors from the Graf Spee who stayed here. And, three, he’s naturally interested in the story of the murdered American diplomat, which is of great interest in Germany.”
“What are you trying to do, Gringo, make him a really visible target?” Lopez asked.
“Exactly. One so visible that SIDE will decide it’s in the national interests of Argentina to see that nothing happens to him. The Argentine government doesn’t want any more headlines about foreigners being murdered here. And a foreign journalist? If anything happened to Billy, it would be on front pages all over the world.”
“You’re devious, Colonel Castillo,” Torine said.
“I like to think so,” Castillo said. “Thank you, sir.”
“They whacked the sergeant and almost whacked your girlfriend when they were riding around in an embassy car,” Lopez said. “Not to mention Masterson.”
“They weren’t expecting trouble,” Castillo said. “Billy will have at least Jack Davidson and Sándor Tor with him all the time and they know what they’re doing. And there will be others, too.”
“What’s Eric Kocian going to think of this brainstorm of yours?” Lopez asked.
“I won’t know that until I ask him,” Castillo said. “So this is what’s going to happen. Darby’s going to pick me up here at nine. I’ll get Billy Kocian settled in Mayerling and make the phone calls. You go to Jorge Newbery and get the plane ready.”
“I think it would be better to have three flight plans,” Torine said. “One from here to Carrasco, a second from Carrasco to Quito, and a third from Quito to San Antonio, rather than one with legs.”
“Fine,” Castillo said.
“It’s only about thirty minutes from Jorge Newbery to Carrasco,” Torine went on. “We won’t have to take on fuel, but it would be better if we did. It’s almost six hours to Quito from Montevideo.”
“Let’s err on the side of caution,” Lopez said.
“Agreed,” Castillo said.
“It’s another five and a half hours from Quito to San Antonio,” Torine said. “Figure an hour on the ground at Quito, that makes twelve and a half, call it thirteen, from wheels-up in Montevideo until touchdown in San Antonio.”
Castillo nodded and said, “We’ll need food and something to drink.”
Torine nodded. “It would be better if we got that in Montevideo.”
“I’ll call when I’m leaving Mayerling. Then you call Yung and tell him to pack a picnic lunch but not have the hotel do it.”
He looked down at his plate and saw that he had eaten everything he’d put there.
“I better get dressed.”
“Gringo, I’m still not happy about taking the Munzes to Midland,” Lopez said.
“Right now, I don’t see another option. But when I get on the radio, I’ll call Abuela and make sure she stays in San Antonio.”
Castillo went into the master bedroom to finish dressing.