Oh, to hell with her.
"Let's see what cars are here, Enrico," Clete said. "You may have to go over to Avenida Coronel Diaz and get one."
Enrico nodded.
Three cars were in the basement garage: Se¤ora Lopez used the 1939 Ford station wagon to run the house, and in it, it was to be hoped, she would drive to the movies before Dorotea arrived. Next to it there was the old, immaculately maintained Rolls Royce. And next to that was the bullet-shattered Horche in which his father had been murdered.
"Does that thing work?" Clete asked, pointing at the Rolls. "Specifically, will it make it out to Campo de Mayo in the morning?"
"Of course," Enrico said as if he considered the question very strange.
"OK. Then we'll use that."
Enrico nodded.
Clete walked to the Horche and ran his fingers over the bullet-shattered windshield and the bullet holes in the fenders and doors.
"1 want to have this repaired, Enrico. Made like new. Is that going to be a problem?"
"No. It can be done."
There was the sound of an automobile horn, close, a signal.
Enrico walked to the garage door, slipping his.45 automatic from the small of his back and holding it parallel to his leg as he did so. He pushed a button, and the garage door rose.
An Argentine Army staff car with a sergeant at the wheel rolled into the basement.
Jesus Christ, Per¢n! I forgot that sonofabitch is staring here!
Are you calling him a sonofabitch because he just ruined your carnal plans for the evening?
He was your father's best friend. Be gracious to the sonofabitch!
Clete walked to the car and opened the rear door.
El Coronel Juan Domingo Per¢n was not alone in the backseat of the car. A girl, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, no older than that, was sitting beside him. A shy girl, who glanced at Clete, then blushed and looked away.
"Buenos tardes, mi Coronel," Clete said with a smile.
Per¢n looked a little embarrassed himself.
Probably because you showed your ass to me this morning at the Officers' Casino. You should be embarrassed, you bastard. That wasn't called for.
"I fear, Se¤or Frade," Per¢n said, "that I am still imposing on your hospi-tality."
"Not at all, mi Coronel. My house is your house for as long as you wish."
"You are very kind, but I am-"
"Suboficial Mayor Rodriguez and I were just about to leave," Clete said. "We just came here to pick up the Rolls Royce."
Per¢n nodded.
"I hope to see you soon, mi Coronel," Clete said, smiled, and walked to the Rolls Royce.
"You better drive, Enrico," Clete said. "I think this thing was made before I was."
He climbed into the front passenger seat and waited for Enrico to get be-hind the wheel.