"Mr. Ambassador, there's a couple of small problems," Castillo said. "Would you and Mrs. Lorimer feel up to a helicopter flight of about an hour and a half, perhaps a little less?"
"To the estancia, you mean?"
"Yes, sir. Sir, the President of Uruguay welcomes you-this is Mr. Jose Ordonez of the Interior Department…"
"On behalf of the President of the republic, Mr. Ambassador, welcome to Uruguay. The President hopes you will be willing to use his helicopter for the final leg of your journey."
"That's very kind of him," Lorimer said. "May I ask a personal question?"
"Yes, sir, of course."
"Do all officials of your interior department go about with a Glock on their hips?"
Castillo laughed. Ordonez glowered at him.
"Try not to let my wife see it, please," Lorimer said. "And-partially because I think Colonel Castillo thinks this is necessary-I accept the kind offer of the President. There will be time when we get to the estancia for you to explain the nature of the 'small problems' Colonel Castillo has mentioned."
"Right this way, Mr. Ambassador," Ordonez said, "if you please."
"Before we do that, I'm sure my wife will wish to powder her nose, as the expression goes, and I will need a little sustenance."
"You're hungry, Mr. Ambassador?" Ordonez asked.
"Thirsty, actually," Lorimer said. "I've been told, Senor Ordonez, that Uruguay's male population consumes more scotch whiskey per capita than any other such population. Is that true?"
"I believe it is, Mr. Ambassador," Ordonez said.
"Then it wouldn't be too much trouble for you, would it, to come up with a little taste"-he held his thumb and index fingers about as widely separated as the joints would allow-"of, say, some of Macallan's finest? While my wife is powdering her nose, of course."
"I think that can be arranged, Mr. Ambassador," Ordonez said, smiling appreciatively.
"You know, Senor Ordonez, that according to Saint Timothy, our Lord said, 'Take a little wine for thy stomach's sake and thine other infirmities.'"
"I've heard that, Mr. Ambassador," Ordonez said.
"If they had had Macallan in those days-even the eighteen-year-old, never mind the thirty-I'm sure He would have said, 'Take a little Macallan.' Wouldn't you agree?"
"I think you're right, Mr. Ambassador," Ordonez said, nodding and smiling even more broadly.
Lorimer turned to Castillo.
"And while Senor Ordonez is arranging a little out-of-the-sight-of-mine-wife sustenance for me, Colonel, why don't you get on that marvelous radio of yours and inform my daughter that her mother and I have not only survived this perilous journey but are now in your capable protective hands?"
"Yes, sir."
[THREE]
Estancia Shangri-La
Tacuarembo Province
Republica Oriental del Uruguay 2115 12 September 2005 After a quick-but, Castillo noticed, quite thorough-inspection of the big house of Estancia Shangri-La, Ambassador Lorimer said that he thought it would be a good idea if everyone "had a little taste-perhaps a Sazerac-to wet down our new home."
"One, Philippe," Mrs. Lorimer said. "One small one." She looked at Colin-the-butler. "You understand, Colin?"
"Yes, ma'am."
Mrs. Lorimer then said, "If you will excuse me, gentlemen, I'm going to have another look around the kitchen."