"In Mexico," Serrador pointed out. "Not in Spain. You'll find that the people are not just-what do you call them? Haves and have-nots. They are also passionate about their heritage."

"Aideen," McCaskey said, his voice stern, edgy. "That's enough. No one knows what's going to happen anywhere. That's what these meetings were supposed to be about. They were supposed to be fact-finding, sharing ideas, a chance to find a peaceful resolution to the tensions."

"And we may yet have those explorations," Serrador said, once again the diplomat. "I mean no disrespect to the loss of your colleague but we've lost just one opportunity. There will be other ways to avoid spilling blood. Our immediate concern is to find out who was responsible for this crime and how the information got out of my office. Then-we will see."

"That could take weeks, months," McCaskey said.

"While haste, Seńor McCaskey, may cost us more lives."

"I'm willing to take that risk," Aideen muttered. "The cost of retreat and inactivity may be much higher."

Serrador walked behind the desk. " "Prudence is neither of those." He pressed a button on the telephone. "I sought the help of the distinguished Seńorita Mackall. She has been taken from us. I sought and may still seek the help of the United States. Is that still available, Seńor McCaskey, should I call on it?"

"You know it is, Mr. Deputy," McCaskey answered.

Serrador dipped his head. "Gracias."

"De nada," McCaskey replied.

The door opened. A young aide in a dark suit took a step into the office. He stood with his arms stiffly at his sides.

"Hernandez," said the deputy, "please take our guests out through the private entrance and tell my driver to see that they get safely back to their hotel." He looked at McCaskey. "That is where you wish to go?"

"For the moment, yes. If possible, I'd like to go wherever the investigation is being handled."

"I see. You have a background in law enforcement, I recall."

"That's right," said McCaskey. "I spent a lot of time working with Interpol when I was at the FBI."

Serrador nodded. "I'll look into it, of course. Is there anything else I can do for either of you?"

McCaskey shook his head. Aideen did not move. She was seething. Again, politics. Not leadership, not vision. Just a cautious "T-step," as they used to call a little dance move back in Boston. She wished she'd saved some of the mierda de perro for this meeting.

"My automobile is bulletproof and two of the guards will accompany you," Serrador said. "You will be safe. In the meantime, I will speak with those of my colleagues who were scheduled to participate in today's meeting. I will contact you in a few days-in Washington, I imagine?-to let you know how and if we wish to proceed."

"Of course," McCaskey replied.

"Thank you." Serrador smiled thinly. "Thank you very much."