What the hell is that thing? It looks like the Cadillac version of a Piper Cub. Christ, that's what it is. A military observation airplane. Probably Ger-man. I've never seen anything like it before, and they don't make airplanes in Argentina.
Standing beside it, their passage barred by Rudolpho, who was carrying a shotgun, were two men. One, in a baggy flight suit, was obviously the pilot. The other was wearing a cavalry officer's uniform, complete to highly polished rid-ing boots. Clete recognized him immediately, although he had seen him only twice before in his life.
What the hell is el Teniente Coronel Mart¡n doing here? The first thing that comes to mind, of course, is that he's after Outline Blue, and the money. I can't think of any other reason he'd be here. But who does he want it for? He's In-ternal Security-read counterintelligence-charged with protecting the gov-ernment from operations like Outline Blue. If he's working for Castillo, and I turn that over to him, that's the end of Outline Blue, and all the players are go-ing to find themselves blindfolded and tied to a stake in front of a wall.
Jesus, why did he show up here now ? I need time to think.
When he saw Clete and Enrico walking toward them, the pilot nudged Martin, who looked toward them.
The first time Mart¡n met Clete was the night of the incident at the Frade guest house on Avenida del Libertador. After being advised of the shooting by agents he had assigned to surveille the house, and by Frade himself, he had rushed to the house. He arrived on the heels of the Polic¡a Federal, who by then had arrested the OSS agent. They were about to take him to police headquarters for questioning, but Mart¡n used the superior authority of the BIS to take the "incident" under BIS control, which did not endear him to the Polic¡a Federal offic
er-in-charge.
In the kitchen he found the Frade housekeeper with her throat cut, bathed in her own blood. Upstairs he found two dead men, both shot to death by the man they had come to murder. From the evidence, he judged that one of them had been shot-killed instantly-by the OSS agent in self-defense. The second assassin was wounded in the first confrontation. Frade then went to check on the woman, found her with her throat cut, and then returned upstairs in a rage to dispatch the second assassin. Which he did with three shots-all that remained in the pistol-one of which blew the assassin's brains all over the bathroom, where he had crawled.
It was rather a surprising loss of control by a professional, he thought at the time.
The "incident" forced Mart¡n to abandon his neutral status as a BIS officer and choose sides between the government of President Castillo and the Grupo de Oficiales Unidos, led by el Coronel Jorge Guillermo Frade, who were plot-ting Castillo's ouster.
He still sometimes wondered if by choosing the latter he had righteously selected the forces of good over the forces of evil; or whether the notion that the Castillo-controlled Polic¡a Federal were charging with murder the intended vic-tim of an assassination paid for by the Germans had so outraged his sense of right and wrong that he just couldn't stand idly by.
Or, even less appealing, he wondered if he had chosen sides because he was aware that el Coronel Frade was likely to be the next President of the Argentine Republic and in a position to punish anyone who had assisted those responsible for the murder of his housekeeper and the arrest of his only son. Or to reward those who had been helpful.
After a good deal of thought, Mart¡n was able to conclude only that he had no one reason to act as he had. It was a combination of several reasons. He could only hope that time would show he'd acted in the best interests of Ar-gentina.
What he did was summon an Army ambulance from the Dr. Cosme Argerich Military Hospital and order the OSS agent confined there, incognito, un-til further notice, for "medical examination."
Afterward, it took some creative investigative techniques to develop the ev-idence necessary to support the conclusions in his Official Report of Investiga-tion that Victim Frade had acted in self-defense and had broken no laws. But two days later, Mart¡n was able to visit Frade in the hospital and inform him of-ficially that the incident was closed and he could now leave the hospital. He also suggested then, unofficially, that Frade leave the country as soon as possible.
Clete walked up to Mart¡n and put out his hand.
"How are you, mi Coronel?" he asked. "What a pleasant surprise."
"Please forgive the intrusion," Mart¡n said. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't think it was necessary."
"No intrusion at all," Clete said. "Very interesting airplane. What is it?"
"A Fieseler Storch, Se¤or," the pilot said. "German."
"Forgive me," Mart¡n said. "Mayor Frade, may I present Capitan Birra?"
"A sus ¢rdenes, mi mayor," the pilot said politely.
"I can't seem to get anyone down here to accept the fact that I am no longer a serving officer," Clete said.
"Is that so?" Mart¡n said.
"That's so," Clete said.
"At one time, Capitan, Se¤or Frade was an aviator in the norteamericano Corps of Marines," Mart¡n said. "Why don't you show him around the plane?"
"It would be my pleasure, Se¤or," Capitan Birra said, and motioned Clete toward the airplane.
"It was in this type aircraft, I believe, Se¤or Frade, that the late Capitan Duarte lost his life in Russia," Mart¡n said.
Clete was already sorry he had started the whole business, and it got worse. Capitan Birra was justifiably proud of his airplane. It was designed for the same purpose-liaison and artillery spotting-as aircraft used by the Army and the Marine Corps. The difference was that the aircraft more or less affectionately called "puddle jumpers" used by the Corps were Piper Cubs right off the civil-ian assembly line. This thing, Wildcat pilot Frade could not honestly deny, was a real airplane. It wasn't a Wildcat, of course, but neither was it a Cub.
And Capitan Birra lost no time in politely telling him the Storch had a 240-horsepower engine, a range of 800 miles, and a cruise speed of 115 m.p.h. The Cubs Clete had flown several times on Guadalcanal had 75-horse engines and a range of no more than whatever two hours at about 70 miles an hour added up to. Then Capitan Birra politely asked if it was really true that "Americans used 'little civilian planes like the Piper' in combat."