Cortina turned his back to the map.
“Does el Coronel wish to add anything?”
Martín said, “No. You covered everything very nicely. But the Inspector General might have a question.”
“ ‘Might have a question’?” Nervo asked. “Jesus Christ! I don’t know where to start!”
“Maybe at the beginning?” Martín asked.
“How the hell did you know where and when the submarine was going to be in Samborombón Bay?”
“An American friend told me.”
“Your friend Frade?”
“No. I understand Don Cletus is on his way to Lisbon.”
“Another American friend, then. You are going to tell me who?”
“He speaks Spanish like a Porteño, and wears—convincingly—the garb of a gaucho. There is a rumor that he is a U.S. Navy officer working for something called the OSS.”
“And he’s a friend of yours?” Subinspector General Nolasco asked in credulously.
Martín nodded.
“How did your gaucho friend know about the submarine?” Nervo asked.
“They had a radio device, called a radar, which allows them to see things on the River Plate almost to Uruguay. At night. Even through fog.”
“And this machine is where, did you say?”
“There’s a rumor it’s on Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo.”
“You seem to have become very friendly with our American friends,” Nervo said.
“I didn’t plan it, but that seems to be the way it’s turned out,” Martín admitted.
“That’s what it looks like.”
“You’re sure it was el Coronel Schmidt?”
“Yeah. This is the second time he’s used his trucks to get Germans from Samborombón Bay to San Martín de los Andes. This time I think we have photographs of him.”
“Think?”
“The film should be at the Edificio Libertador by now, being processed.”
“What’s in the wooden crate?” Nolasco asked.
“Money or gold. Or diamonds, other precious metals. Probably some of each.”
“A crate full?” Nolasco asked incredulously.
“You didn’t tell him about Operation Phoenix, Santiago?”
“He told me. I didn’t believe it,” Nolasco admitted.
“Didn’t, or don’t?”