“Someone rang my doorbell at an unholy hour,” Ordonez said. “But when I got out of bed, no one was there. This, however, had been slipped under my door.”
He handed Castillo a plain white letter-size envelope. It was unsealed.
Ordonez nodded at it. “Please. Have a look.”
Castillo opened the envelope, took out a single sheet of paper, and read it.
Castillo handed it to Alfredo Munz, who read it, then handed it to Edgar Delchamps, who read it, than passed it to Alex Darby, who read it:
REFERENCE INTERPOL WARRANTS EUR/RU 2005-6777 FOR BEREZOVSKY, DMITRI AND EUR/RU 2005- 6778 FOR ALEKSEEVA, SVETLANA
RELIABLE SOURCES SUGGEST BEREZOVSKY AND ALEKSEEVA MAY BE IN THE COMPANY OF C.G. CASTILLO. LTCOL CASTILLO IS A US ARMY INTELLIGENCE OFFICER WHO ALSO POSSESSES OTHER IDENTIFICATION, INCLUDING THAT OF A SUPERVISORY SPECIAL AGENT OF THE US SECRET SERVICE. HE WAS SEEN IN BUENOS AIRES 2 JANUARY 2006
IT ALSO HAS BEEN LEARNED THAT THE RUSSIAN OFFICER IN CHARGE OF THE BEREZOVSKY/ALEKSEEVA CASE, COLONEL EVGENY ALEKSEEVA, OF THE SVR, IS EITHER IN BUENOS AIRES OR EN ROUTE. HE IS TRAVELING ON A DIPLOMATIC PASSPORT.
Darby folded it and handed it back to Ordonez, then said: “If I didn’t know better—no member of the FBI would ever do something like this, as we all know—I’d say that
Ordonez did not respond to that. Instead, he said: “So, Colonel, before I had my breakfast, I made a couple of calls—these reports would have been on my desk anyway when I went to work, you understand—and learned both that your beautiful airplane had landed at Punta the previous afternoon and that Mr. Darby had taken the Buquebus to Montevideo.
“I then called the Conrad, thinking maybe you might be there playing a little Vingt et Un or something like that. And, sure enough, they told me you were there, in the company of what the manager told me was a truly striking red-haired lady.
“I asked myself, ‘Since I made it so clear that I personally and the government of Uruguay semi-officially have stated that we would prefer that you take your tourist business elsewhere, why are you unable to resist the temptation to return to Punta?’ ”
Ambassador Lorimer placed a plate heaped with slices of beef tenderloin on the table before him.
Castillo avoided the question. He gestured at Ordonez’s lomo. “There are some lovely grilled peppers to go with that, Jose. Won’t you try some? And some really nice Cabernet Sauvignon. I’ll get you a glass. Unless, of course, you’re on duty and not drinking?”
Castillo got up from the table, and returned with a bottle and held it up.
“It’s called Bodegones del Sur, and it’s from the Bodega Juanico. The label says it has a complex aroma, whatever that means, with notes of mature fruits—which calls to my mind a mental image of a cologne-soaked elderly gentleman of exquisite grace. . . .”
Ordonez shook his head. “Pour the wine, please, Colonel. But, for the record, I’m always on duty.”
Castillo half-filled the large glass before Ordonez, then helped himself to one.
“I’ll join you, so there will be two of us always on duty giving in to Demon Rum. Or Demon Cabernet.”
They touched glasses.
Ordonez put some beef in his mouth and chewed.
When he had finished, he said, “Very nice, Mr. Ambassador,” and then turned to Castillo.
“So I hopped into my car and drove to Punta. I thought I might be able to have breakfast with you, Colonel, to chat about this.
“When I got there, I heard that you had rented a car and gone for an early-morning drive. But, as you can certainly understand, Colonel, my professional curiosity was piqued.”
Ordonez took a sip of his wine, then went on: “So I showed the picture on the warrant of Miss—or is it Mrs.?—Alekseeva to the manager. He said that it sure looked like the lady who was sharing 1730 with you.
“And then I showed it to the maitre d’ of the Restaurant Lo de Tere—which is the sort of place I would take a lovely redhead if I was having a romantic interlude in Punta—and he said a woman who looked very much like the woman in the photo had been in his restaurant last night eating caviar and drinking champagne with a big tipper who looked just like the picture I showed him of you.
“But you weren’t in the Conrad. Or on the beach. Or having coffee in one of our quaint seaside coffeehouses. So I asked myself, ‘If I were in Uruguay and knew that I was not exactly welcome, where would I go?’
“And here I am.”
“And here we are,” Castillo said.
“So it would seem,” Ordonez said. “On the way here, I wondered if maybe it had occurred to you that Shangri-La might be an ideal place to hide these fugitives from Russian justice.”
“That thought never entered my head,” Castillo said.
“There have been too many foreigners’ bodies here as it is,” Ordonez said, and when he had, his eye caught Lorimer’s. “Forgive me, Mr. Ambassador, but that had to be said.”
Lorimer made a deprecating gesture.
Ordonez looked again at Castillo. “And, for that matter, more than enough bodies in the Conrad. Everywhere you go, Colonel, there seem to be bodies.”
Castillo could think of no reply to make.
“That’s not going to happen anymore,” Ordonez said simply.
“There’s more going on here, Jose, than you understand,” Munz said.
“Alfredo, whatever it is, I don’t want to know about it.” There was a moment’s silence, then Ordonez went on: “Something else occurred to me on the drive here. How much easier it would be if you weren’t one of my oldest friends, Alfredo, or if I didn’t like—and admire—Colonel Castillo despite all the trouble he’s caused me. I even thought it would be very nice if I was one of those people who have a picture of Che Guevara on their office wall.”
Ordonez smiled as he saw that the Che Guevara reference was lost on his audience.
“Why? Because if I were in the Che camp of followers, I would first find the people on the Interpol warrants, arrest them, then turn them over to the Russian embassy and see if the Russians really would pay the two hundred fifty thousand euros they’re offering as a reward.
“I would then escort Colonel Castillo and the rest of his entourage to their airplane, see that their passports were stamped ‘Not Valid for Reentry into Uruguay,’ and watch until the aircraft was in the air.
“That would allow me to go to my superior and report that the situation had been dealt with.”
He took a moment to have some more beef and wine.
“But I can’t do that,” Ordonez finally said. “So I’ll tell you what’s going to happen. About ten o’clock tomorrow morning, I am going to tell my superior that although I rushed to Punta immediately on learning that Colonel Castillo and possibly the Russian embezzlers might be there, I got there an hour after Colonel Castillo and entourage flew away from Aeropuerto Internacional Capitan de Corbeta Carlos A. Curbelo, having filed a flight plan to Porto Alegre, Brazil.”
There was quiet while the pronouncement was considered.
Ordonez met Castillo’s eyes, then Munz’s.
