Read Online Horns of the Devil - Jeff Trask [02] by Marc Rainer - Free Book Online

table.
    “It’s certainly possible,” Murphy said. “I just thought you guys investigating the case needed to hear that side of the story before interviewing the ambassador again. I know you have rules regarding what information can be released and when, but we’d like to be kept in the loop as much as possible. The Secretary is personally interested in the case, and called your US Attorney last night.”
    “The Secretary of State?” Trask asked. “I’m surprised I wasn’t in Eastman’s office first thing this morning.”
    “Ross called me this morning, Jeff,” Doroz said. “I told him that Murph here was briefing us, and that I’d keep you from embarrassing him.”
    “Wonderful.”
    “Seriously,” Doroz laughed, “he said he had complete confidence in us, but he wanted an update after our meeting with the ambassador. He thinks a lot of you. I think he called me because I’ve been around longer.”
    “I think he called you because it’s a subtle way of telling me that he’s going to be checking on this from every angle possible,” Trask said. “Complete confidence aside, my direct and personal updates aren’t going to be enough where ambassadors and the State Department are concerned.”
    Murphy was chuckling again. “I don’t know how long you’ve been in the capital, Jeff, but you’ve certainly learned some of the games.”
    The train pulled to a stop at the Dupont Circle Station. They rode the escalator back up into the sunlight.
    “Dupont Circle. This is where that Georgian diplomat Makharadze killed that kid during a DWI isn’t it?” Trask thought aloud. “Georgia waived his diplomatic immunity, and we actually got to prosecute him, as I recall.”
    “A very rare event,” Murphy said. “I wouldn’t count on seeing that again in your lifetime.”
    A very weird thing to say, Trask thought. Wonder where that came from? Diplomats all over this city getting away with everything from serial traffic violations to rape, and he acts like the waiver was something that shouldn’t have been pursued. He must be concerned about his own status when he’s overseas.
    They walked a few blocks east to the embassy.
    Murphy presented his credentials first, which got a knowing nod at the reception desk. They were almost immediately ushered into the waiting room outside the ambassador’s office, where they sat on a couch. A dark-haired secretary smiled at them from her desk. She was twenty-something and stunning, at least a fourteen on the proverbial ten-scale.
    “That didn’t take long,” Doroz said, returning the secretary’s smile.
    Trask noticed that the girl’s glance lingered on Crawford, who was smiling back at her and blushing.
    You may need oven mitts for that one, Puddin’.
    “About a quarter of the country’s income comes from money mailed home by Salvadorans still living and working in the US,” Murphy whispered to Trask. “They like to keep us happy, so we won’t be waiting long.”
    “Please come in, gentlemen.”
    The distinguished figure of Ambassador Juan Carlos Lopez-Portilla stood in an open doorway in front of the couch. After introductions, they followed him into the ambassador’s office, but instead of sitting behind his desk, he joined them around a coffee table in front of it. A steaming pitcher and five cups had already been arranged on the table.
    “One of El Salvador’s specialties, of course,” the ambassador said. “I always take my coffee black, but I can have cream and sugar brought in if anyone requires it.”
    “Black is fine, Mr. Ambassador,” Trask said. “I wouldn’t want to ruin the flavor of excellent coffee with cream and sugar any more than I’d want to ruin a good Canadian whiskey by mixing it with soda.”
    “I’ll accept that, Mr. Trask,” the ambassador said, “with the qualification that the sugar is also excellent, having also been grown in El Salvador.”
    “My mistake,” Trask said. “Perhaps I should try a cup sweetened with