"With a little bit of luck, perhaps there will be," Ramirez said. "Women in groups not only don't listen to each other, but to anyone else, either."
Rawson laughed, as he was expected to, and wondered if Ramirez was get-ting a little nervous.
Why not? When one is plotting a coup d'‚tat, and the details of that opera-tion may soon be on the desk of the man you hope to depose, one may be ex-cused for being a little nervous.
Two-B, on the second floor of the mansion, was a small private dining room, with a table capable of comfortably seating ten guests. Four places had been set,
with an impressive display of silver and crystal, at opposite ends of the table. A sideboard was loaded with bottles of whiskey, half a dozen kinds of wine, two silver wine coolers, and appropriate glasses.
Capitan Lauffer, who had been inspecting the wine, came to attention when the two general officers entered the room, as did two waiters in brief white jackets.
"Here you are, Roberto," Rawson said. "I think that when it's my time to pass through the pearly gates, you'll have gotten ahead of me there, too, and will be holding them open for me."
"Mi General," Lauffer said, and bowed his head toward General Ramirez.
"How are you, Lauffer?" he asked, smiling. He then turned to one of the waiters and pointed: "And put everyone at one end of the table," he ordered. "I don't want to have to shout at my guests."
Both waiters quickly moved to obey.
Rawson looked around the room, then put his hand to his ear and looked questioningly at Lauffer.
"El Coronel Martin, Sir, tells me the room is clean. He also suggested dis-cretion, Sir."
Rawson nodded, satisfied that the room was indeed free of listening de-vices. He knew Teniente Coronel Mart¡n to be a very knowledgeable, and reli-able, security officer.
"Did he find anything?" Mayor Querro wondered aloud.
"I think he would have said something, Sir," Lauffer said.
"What else did he have to say?" Rawson asked.
Ramirez waved his hand in a gesture signaling Lauffer that he should not answer in the presence of the waiters. Lauffer nodded his understanding.
Querro walked to the sideboard, waited until he had Ramirez's attention, and then pointed at a bottle of Johnny Walker Red Label scotch.
"If that's champagne, I'd rather have that," Ramirez said, indicating one of the coolers with his hand.
One of the waiters moved quickly to take a bottle of champagne from the cooler and started to peel off the metallic wrapping at the neck.
"I think that's what I'd better do, too," Rawson said. "What for you, Lauffer?"
"Nothing, Sir. Thank you."
"Oh, have a glass of wine," Ramirez said. It was an order, and Lauffer un-derstood it.
"Thank you very much, Sir," he said.
The champagne was poured and offered on a tray by one of the waiters.
"Thank you," General Ramirez said, taking a glass, and then adding, "Please leave us now."
He took his glass and walked to the ceiling-high French doors that over-looked Plaza San Mart¡n and its ancient, massive Gomero trees.
Rawson sipped his champagne and waited for Ramirez to turn to him. When he did not, he walked to the window and stood beside him.
San Martin, Belgrano, and Pueyrred¢n, (Jose de San Mart¡n, "The Great Liberator" Manuel Belgrano, and J. M. de Pueyrred¢n are revered as the fathers of Argentina.) Ramirez thought, stood a hun-dred and thirty years ago, looking at those very same trees, looking out onto the River Plate, and deciding to pay the price, whatever it was, to see Argentina free and democratic. Is that what we're doing ? Or will we be just one more junta in a long line of juntas who decided they were the salvation of Argentina? And were, more often than not, wrong.
"You seem very pensive, mi General," Rawson said.