Rawson exhaled, then looked at Martín.
“If you had taken the BIS and the promotion to general that went with it, Martí
n, when I offered it to you, you wouldn’t have this problem now, would you?”
“With respect, sir, that wouldn’t have worked,” Martín said.
“I shouldn’t be talking to any of you,” Rawson said. “General Nervo, you should have taken these frankly incredible suspicions of yours to the interior minister. Martín, you know you should have taken these suspicions to General Obregón—”
“At this moment, Señor Presidente,” Nervo interrupted him, “Schmidt is leading a ten-truck convoy toward Mendoza.”
“Mendoza? What’s going on in Mendoza?”
“Well, for one thing,” Nervo said, “the arms cache that the late Coronel Frade established on Estancia Don Guillermo is there. And he wants that. And then I think he wants to watch the execution of Don Cletus Frade.”
“ ‘The execution of Don Cletus Frade’? Did I hear you correctly, General Nervo?”
“Yes, sir, you did.”
“That’s preposterous! Why would Schmidt want to execute Cletus Frade?”
“Schmidt won’t be the executioner, Señor Presidente. That honor has been reserved for SS-Hauptsturmführer Sepp Schäfer. But I think Schmidt would really like to watch.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Nervo?” Rawson snapped.
“Well, what SS-Brigadeführer Ritter Manfred von Deitzberg told Schmidt was that Don Cletus had been sentenced to death by a summary court-martial for ordering the execution of his father, who had nobly refused to ally himself with international Jewry.”
“I can’t believe my ears. The only von Deitzberg I know is that German general who was here—who came here—to offer the condolences of the German officer corps on the death of Jorge Frade.”
“Same chap, actually,” Wattersly said. “But he’s not really a German general, but in the SS. He’s Himmler’s chief adjutant. And this time when he came back here, he came by U-boat—by submarine.”
“By submarine! That’s preposterous!”
“I saw him come ashore at Samborombón Bay, Señor Presidente,” Martín said.
“Why didn’t you arrest him?”
“At the time, I wanted to see what he was up to, sir.”
“And I agreed at the time,” Nervo said.
“And when I learned of this, I agreed with Martín, Señor Presidente,” Wattersly said.
“And so did I, sir,” Lauffer said.
Rawson was silent for a long moment.
“When I walked in here just now, I jokingly said something to the effect that if I didn’t know you all so well, I’d think you’re conspirators. It’s a damned good thing for you that I do know you all so well; otherwise I would call for the Policía Militar to haul you off to Campo de Mayo for confinement pending court-martial.
“But what we are going to do now is this: You are going to tell me everything. And I mean everything. I think we’ll start with you, Martín, if you please.”
“And Perón and von Deitzberg are now in San Martín de los Andes?” Rawson said fifteen minutes later.
“They are en route, sir,” Martín said. “They and their lady friends.”
“And what are they going to do when they get there?”
“I have no idea, sir,” Martín said. “But I don’t think they went there for the trout fishing.”