Power and Empire

“I have,” Callahan said. She motioned them out of the room, and then out of the house.

“I didn’t want to talk in front of that open computer,” she said once they were standing in the driveway. “Not until Forensics gets a chance to look it over. There’s too big a chance it’s streaming everything we say to some other location.”

“That’s why you make the big money, Kelsey,” Anderson said.

“You said you’d seen this before,” Caruso said.

“Sadly, I have,” Callahan said. She peeled off the gloves with a hooked thumb so they turned inside out and she didn’t have to touch the outside of either with her fingers. “I’m pretty convinced they were sitting the girls in that big chair and auctioning them off on video. Any girl that didn’t bring in a high enough bid was then used in a snuff video.”

Caruso stifled a gasp. He shook his head, imagining John Clark’s reaction when he’d seen something like this. It sure explained the dead guy at the gravesite and the woman found floating in the pool missing part of her windpipe.

Callahan cocked her head toward Anderson, something dawning on her. “Did either of the girls give a description of the guy who saved them?”

Caruso kept his face passive.

The Ranger shrugged. “Like I said. We’re still waiting on a Spanish speaker. Why? You have an idea who it was?”

Callahan shot an accusing glance at Caruso. “I’ve got a pretty good guess,” she said.

30

The Hendley Associates Gulfstream hit heavy turbulence six hours north of Buenos Aires. The movement jostled Jack Ryan, Jr., awake from a much-needed seven-hour nap. Chavez was still sawing logs in the seat across from Lisanne, but Adara and Midas sat at the small conference table in mid-cabin. They both made good use of the G550’s encrypted satellite Wi-Fi.

Jack sat up from the leather couch and raised both arms above his head in what his kid sister called a “squinty-eyed” stretch.

Midas glanced up from his computer.

“Morning, sunshine.”

Jack nodded but said nothing. He stood, steadying himself against the armrest in the bumpy air.

Lisanne unbuckled her seat belt and moved toward the galley. She whispered, so as not to disturb Chavez. “I have a fresh pot of coffee on.”

Ryan made his way forward and put his hand on the lavatory door. Still barely conscious of the fact that he was hurtling through the air at 35,000 feet, he gave her what he was sure was a dopey grin.

“Filling up on strong coffee is second on my to-do list.”

Lisanne leaned forward, giving him a conspiratorial nod. “It’ll be waiting here for you,” she said.

Three minutes later, Ryan set his coffee cup on the conference table and then dropped down in the aisle to pump out thirty push-ups and make sure he was fully awake.

“Any new crises while I was out?” Ryan asked when he was done and seated at the table with the others.

Adara was deep in thought, poring over some article.

Midas looked up and shook his head. “Not that I know of. I woke up about ten minutes before y—”

“Listen to this,” Adara said, cutting him off.

Ryan moved closer. Midas lowered his computer.

“There’s a shop near Recoleta Cemetery that sells lemon-cucumber-flavored ice cream.”

Midas shook his head. “And that’s big news why?”

Adara said, “It’s big news, my good sir, because I like cucumbers and I like ice cream.”

Midas chuckled. “I’m a mint chocolate-chip man.”

“But seriously,” Adara said. “I bring it up because I was checking the lead that Ding found regarding the visiting trade ministers. Several countries have posted agendas on their respective websites. Looks like they’re all attending a dinner not far from Recoleta Cemetery, so I decided to do some research prior to our arrival.”

Ryan shook his head. “You keep saying ‘Recoleta Cemetery’ like we should know it.”

“Sorry,” Adara said. “Some Navy buddies and I burned a week of leave down here one winter — summer here, I guess. Recoleta Cemetery was one of my favorite places. Evita Perón’s buried there. It’s beautiful but slightly spooky, with aboveground crypts like little houses. Many of them have windows where the coffins are visible.” She consulted a legal pad beside her computer on the teak conference table. “Anyway, so far, it looks like the ministers of agriculture from Argentina, Canada, Uruguay, China, and Japan are on the guest list for the dinner. The Chinese foreign minister is also supposed to be in Argentina by tomorrow, but his staff is a little more taciturn about posting his itinerary.”

Jack gave a thoughtful nod. “How about the U.S.?”

“No one, as far as I can tell,” Adara said. “I’m not sure how the beef lobby would feel about us doing anything to help Argentine exports.”

“Speaking of beef,” Midas said, “I volunteer to post up inside the restaurant. Argentina’s supposed to be hell on wheels when it comes to beefsteak. You can keep your damn cucumber ice cream, thank you very much.”

Ryan grabbed the laptop from his bag and brought up a map of the Recoleta area of Buenos Aires.

“What’s the name of the place?”

“Helado…”