When Clete had knocked at his door in La Boca an hour before, Tony was awake, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Then Clete had the somewhat unkind thought that Tony, like a good paratrooper, has been up since oh dark hundred and has run five miles and done a hundred and fifty squat jumps before he even thought about breakfast.
Commander Delojo walked up the stairs one at a time, a wan smile on his face, looking like someone who had just reluctantly left his bed, showered, and shaved.
"You look like an advertisement in Esquire, Tony," Clete said.
"I see you took off your cowboy suit, Major, Sir."
"I had no choice. I am meeting my mother-in-law-to-be for lunch," Clete said, then offered his hand to Delojo. "Good morning, Commander. I ordered coffee. Would you like something else? It's no problem."
"Coffee will be fine, thank you, Frade," Delojo said. "I don't think we were followed, but..."
"There's a couple of BIS guys in an apartment across the street," Clete said. "Go on the presumption that they will know you two have been here."
"I don't understand. Shouldn't we have met someplace-"
"There would have been BIS agents on each of us. I don't think we could lose all of them. So why bother to try?"
He led them into the master's apartment.
"We can talk here," he said. "There are no microphones."
"How do you know that?" Delojo challenged.
"Enrico found the one cleverly concealed in the chandelier," Clete said. "And tells me there's no other place they could put one."
"Whose microphone?"
"Probably the BIS's," Clete said. "Tony said you wanted to talk to me."
Delojo looked dubiously around the room.
"I wish I shared your faith in your man's ability to sweep a room," he said.
"What's up?" Clete said impatiently.
"The team chief has been successfully infiltrated across the Rio Uruguay into a town called Santo Tome, in Corrientes Province."
"Just the team chief?"
"It's a five-man team. The team chief infiltrated. Two more men are in a town called Sao Borja just across the river in Brazil. The other two, and the radar and other equipment, are still at the Porto Alegre Naval Base. The team chief's infiltration was sort of a trial run, to see how difficult the infiltration was going to be. The Rio Uruguay is a wide river."
"How did he cross the river?"
"Presumably in a boat. I would guess they have a rubber boat, rubber boats."
"How much does this radar weigh? Will it fit through the door of the C-45? How much other equipment do they have? Same questions-what does it weigh, and will it fit through the door of the C-45?"
"Presumably you have a reason for asking?"
"I'm going to Santo Tome tonight. Then I'm going to Porto Alegre, and will fly the C-45 to Santo Tome. I'll be alone in the C-45. If I can get this stuff in it, that makes more sense than trying to smuggle it across the river in a rub-ber boat."
"This is the first I've heard any of this," Delojo said.
"Most of it just happened," Clete said. "I intended to see you sometime to-day-even before I heard the team chief is already in Argentina."
"Why Santo Tome?" Delojo asked.
"I've made a deal with... certain people. They are helping me bring the airplane into Argentina. Specifically, into an airstrip at Santo Tome."