will resign from the Secret Service, as will Tony Santini; Whelan won’t be able to find them, I don’t think, and even if he does, will learn nothing from them.”
“Ambassador Silvio,” Montvale said, “I put it to you that you’ve heard enough of this to fairly conclude that Lieutenant Colonel Castillo is not only as unstable as the doctors in Walter Reed have concluded but that he is threatening to do a number of things—which he is entirely capable of undertaking in his delusional state—that are not only illegal but which will almost certainly cause great embarrassment not only to the President personally but to the country, and that under these circumstances, it is your clear duty to help me get him on my airplane and to the United States, despite any promises you made to him not knowing the seriousness of his mental condition.”
“You sonofabitch!” Castillo said. “If I am held here against my will, much less forced to—”
Ambassador Silvio made a gentle gesture with his hand, silencing Castillo. “Ambassador Montvale,” Silvio began in a measured tone, “first let me say that I don’t need you to point out my ‘clear duty’ to me. As ambassador, by law I am the senior American officer in Argentina. And let me be frank: As I’ve listened to the exchange between you and Colonel Castillo, and between Colonel Castillo and Mr. Powell, I wondered about my responsibilities in that regard in this matter.
“When Colonel Castillo first came to Argentina, the President told me personally that Colonel Castillo was acting on his behalf and with his authority, and directed me to provide him with any assistance he required. Given that—”
“You’ve heard this insanity!”
“Pray let me continue,” Silvio said. “Given that, Mr. Ambassador, I don’t think you have the authority to force Colonel Castillo to go anywhere or do anything he doesn’t want to do, absent a specific order from the President placing him under your authority. Quite the opposite, actually, I see it as my ‘clear duty’ to do whatever I can to assist him in carrying out his orders from the President and to prevent anyone from interfering with him.”
“His orders say nothing about abducting Russian defectors from the CIA,” Montvale argued, “and certainly nothing about conducting any kind of an operation in the Congo.”
“Since what exactly his orders actually entail seems to be in question, it seems obvious that the only person who can clarify them is the President himself. Absent that clarification, I am not going to challenge Colonel Castillo.”
Montvale met his eyes for a long moment.
He then said: “May I use your secure telephone again, Mr. Ambassador?”
“To call the President?”
“To call the President.”
“Certainly. But if that is your intention, I think I should tell you that when I speak with the President—and I will do so—I will tell him that Colonel Castillo is, in my judgment, in full possession of his extraordinary mental faculties, and that it seems to me that, motivated by your desire to spare the CIA and yourself embarrassment for losing the Russian defectors, what you and the DCI are trying to do—please forgive the colorful speech—is to throw Colonel Castillo under the bus.”
Montvale looked at him in angry disbelief.
“I shall also tell him,” Silvio went on, “that it is my judgment that if he goes along with you and orders Castillo to Washington, it will be some time—probably years—before the CIA will be able to locate the Russian defectors, much less get them to the United States. I will point out to the President that it took decades for Mossad, the Israeli intelligence service, as you know, to find Adolf Eichmann, who they knew was in Argentina, and wasn’t until a couple of years ago that Erich Priebke, who gained infamy for his role in the Ardeatine Caves massacre outside Rome, could be brought to justice, even though he had been in Argentina since 1948 and owned a hotel in Bariloche.”
Montvale’s face was white. Castillo wondered if the director of National Intelligence was going to lose control.
He didn’t.
“Well, it seems our little chat is over, doesn’t it, Castillo?” Montvale said.
“Not quite, Mr. Montvale. I would like to know whether you are going to obstruct my operation in Africa, or provide what assistance I’ll need to carry it out under my existing authority.”
Montvale contorted his face. “Why in hell would I do that?”
“Because, if you give me the help I need, I give you my word that I will go along with your charade about my medical retirement, and even show up for my retirement parade.”
Montvale looked as if he didn’t believe his ears.
“You’ll go along with that?” Montvale asked after he’d taken a moment to consider the ramifications. “Why?”
“I’m as interested in protecting the President as you are. And after this the President would have to choose between us—and, self-evidently, you’re far more valuable an asset than I am. I know when it’s time to fold my tent.”
Montvale considered that, then nodded once. “I’ll give you what you think you need.”
“I don’t want the CIA, or anybody else, to know what I’m going to do. Understood?”
“You have my word.”
“Before a witness,” Ambassador Silvio put in.
“It will take me a couple of hours to explain the situation to Colonel Torine and get him and Captain Sparkman to Jorge Newbery.”
“To where? Oh, the airport.” He looked at his watch. “Okay. We’ll be there.”
Without thinking about it, when Montvale looked at his watch, Castillo looked at his. Montvale saw it.
“That looks like a brand-new stainless steel Rolex,” the director of National Intelligence said.
“Actually, it’s white gold. A gift from a friend.”
Castillo, using his eyes, then asked for permission to use the secure telephone from Ambassador Silvio, who responded by handing him the handset.
“Get State on here, please,” Castillo said into it, “and get them to give me a secure line to Major Richard Miller at OOA in the Nebraska Avenue Complex.”
In the silence of the room, with Montvale’s and Silvio’s eyes on him, Castillo took a puff on his cigar while the telephone operator put the call through.
“Dick? I’ll call you back in an hour or so. But right now make plans to get yourself on a plane down here tonight. If there’s any trouble with that, call the Presidential Flight and have them fly you down in one of their Gulfstreams. If there’s any trouble about that, tell them Ambassador Montvale authorized it.”
Montvale rose from the couch and, without saying a word or looking at either Ambassador Silvio or Castillo, walked out of the ambassador’s office.
Castillo heard Montvale say, “Okay, Remley, we’re through here.”
After Castillo broke off his call with Miller, he looked at Silvio.
“Mr. Ambassador, I didn’t realize that you’d wind up in the middle of that. I am indeed sorry. And of course very grateful, sir.”
“No reason for you to be sorry, Charley. Or grateful. I did what I thought it was my duty to do.”
XI
[ONE]
Nuestra Pequena Casa
Mayerling Country Club
Pilar, Buenos Aires Province, Argentina
1605 2 January 2006
When Jack Davidson turned the embassy’s BMW into Mayerling, the gendarmeria Mercedes-Benz SUV
