“We brought back a flock of nuns and priests and orphans,” Clete said. “And the Papal Nuncio in Lisbon arranged for a block of seats on every flight and paid in advance.”
“When was the last time, Alejandro, that Customs officers strip-searched a nun entering the country?” Nervo said. “Or even a Jesuit priest?”
Martín shook his head and chuckled.
“The Germans are occupying Rome,” Nervo said. “Do you think the Holy Father has decided it’s time to move the treasury? Or at least the larger diamonds in the vaults?”
“You’re only saying that,” Martín said, “because you’re a Saint George’s Old Boy and you’ve been corrupted by all those terrible things Father Kingsley-Howard told you about Holy Mother Church.”
Nervo and Lauffler chuckled.
“Well, I’ll tell you this, Alejandro,” Nervo said. “We’ll never find out why the Vatican is flying all these nuns and priests. Holy Mother Church—and especially Jesuits like Welner—has been in our business much longer than we have and is much better at it than we are.”
“I daresay you’re right,” Wattersly said.
“You said something before, Coronel,” Clete said. “Said you’d get back to it. Something involving Casa Montagna?”
“Oh, yes! I’m glad you remembered. About a week ago, my first cousin once removed Erich Franz Schmidt happened to bump into me at the Círculo Militar and told me that he had been thinking about the weapons cached at Estancia Don Guillermo. He told me he had been running some road movement exercises with his regiment and he had been thinking of sending one of them over there to see if the weapons were still there and, if so, to take possession of them. So they wouldn’t fall into the wrong hands.”
“Why would he tell you this?” Clete asked.
“I’m the deputy chief for operations on the General Staff,” Wattersly replied. “And I might have heard one of his road movement exercises coincided with the attack on Casa Chica in Tandil.”
“What did you tell him?” Nervo asked.
“I told him I was sure the weapons cache had been removed when General Rawson became president, but that I would look into it for him.”
“Are they still there?” Nervo asked.
“Yes, they are,” Clete said.
“And you left it at that, Edmundo?” Nervo asked.
“Except for telling him not to send troops to Estancia Don Guillermo until I got back to him. It might offend Don Cletus, and Cousin Erich knew how close Don Cletus was to El Presidente.”
“Maybe you should get them out of there,” Martín suggested. “God might tell Schmidt to go get them.”
“They’re not going anywhere,” Clete said evenly. “I need them. My wife lives there.”
“And the Froggers, right?” Martín asked.
“And the Froggers,” Clete admitted.
“If Schmidt goes there, it would be with at least one company of Mountain Troops.”
“I can hold that mountain against his entire regiment,” Clete said, unimpressed.
“Which would start that civil war we’ve been talking about,” Nervo said. “That can’t be allowed to happen.”
“Then you had better figure out a way to keep this guy away from Casa Montagna,” Clete said.
“I can stall him for several weeks,” Wattersly said. “I mean insofar as ‘get ting back to him’ is concerned. I can’t guarantee he won’t act on his own.”
“You better see that he doesn’t, Edmundo,” Nervo said.
The library door opened and Dorotea Mallín de Frade stepped into the room.
“I realize I’m interrupting all the naughty stories, but dinner is ready, gentlemen,” she said.