"Who?"
"I know you're pals," Yung said.
"I never heard that name in my entire life until just now," Castillo said. "Cross my heart and hope to die."
"Yeah, sure. Well, if you should ever happen to meet somebody with that name, give him my regards," Yung said. "When we were young, innocent, and naive, we really thought we could protect society from the barbarians. Had a lot of fun, for a while, doing it. And then Howard decided he'd rather be a barbarian. It paid better, and it wasn't nearly as frustrating. Sometimes I think I should have changed sides when he did."
"So tell me about these dossiers you're building," Castillo said.
"Well, there's fourteen FBI agents, including me, here looking at money laundering. As one of them, I have access to what's developed. They're looking for drug money, primarily-and there's a hell of a lot of that-which means they're looking for Colombians and Mexicans, mostly. And Americans, of course. When they come across some European moving a lot of money around here, they check with the DEA, the treasury department, whoever, to see if there's a drug connection or an American connection of some kind. If there isn't, they let it drop." He paused, then added, "And I pick it up."
"And do what with it?"
"What my boss wants is proof-photocopies-of bank records; who deposited how much and when; records of who bought an estancia or a car dealership or a million-dollar villa in Punta del Este. I don't really know what he thinks anybody will do with it. He still has stars in his eyes. Expose the bad guys and the world will be a better place. I can't see that happening."
"Yes, you can," Castillo said. "You've still got stars in your eyes, too. Otherwise, you'd have changed sides when your friend-what was his name?-did."
"And what about you, Castillo? No stars in your eyes? How did you get involved in something like this? I know what 'render them harmless' really means."
"I am simply carrying out the instructions of my government, as I understand them, as an officer and a gentleman of the United States Army."
"Oh, shit!" Yung chuckled. "Yeah, that's right. You are an Army officer, aren't you? A major. Back to my question, how did an Army officer get involved in something like this?"
"I just told you," Castillo said. "Where are your files?"
"Here. I can't leave them in the embassy. Another price I pay for being a secret hotshot, to use Kennedy's words, is that my fellow FBI agents think I'm either stupid or lazy or both. I don't turn in half the work they do."
"If you're working on something like this, I'm surprised you can turn in any work at all," Castillo said. "Can I see the files?"
"Reluctantly," Yung said. "I don't want it getting out what I've been doing here. Who else is going to know what's in my files? Even that I have them?"
"Would you believe me if I say no one?"
"Why should I?"
"I'll make a deal with you," Castillo said. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours. And that will be our little secret."
"What's in your files?"
"The names of people-Germans, French, and Russians-who are reliably reported to have made money on Oil for Food and probably are sending it over here. I promised my source I would not turn them over to the CIA or the FBI or anybody. And I won't. But maybe it would help if you took a look at them, maybe make a match with somebody you've got a dossier on. That might help us find this bastard Lorimer."
"What's your interest in Lorimer?"
"He was the head bagman for Oil for Food. He knows who got how much, and when, and what for. And if I find him, I think I can convince him to point me in the direction of whoever whacked Masterson and Markham. Lorimer is who I'm really after."
"Never heard of him," Yung said. "Sorry."
"And I have to find him before the bad guys do. They want to make sure he doesn't talk. They already whacked one of his guys in Vienna. Deal?"
"Why not?" Yung said. "Where's your list?"
"In my briefcase," Castillo said, and picked it up from the floor and placed it on a coffee table. Yung pushed himself out of his chair and walked to the table as Castillo opened the briefcase.
"Well, I can save you time about him," Yung said.
"Excuse me?"
"Bertrand," Yung said. "The guy in the picture."