[EIGHT]
El Plumerillo Airfield
Mendoza, Mendoza Province, Argentina
1505 16 October 1943
The first person to stand in the open door of SAA’s Ciudad de San Miguel was Inspector General Santiago Nervo of the Gendarmería Nacional. He took a quick look around, which caused the dozen gendarmes from the truck to pop to attention, then got off the airplane.
Next to get off, surprising Clete, was Capitán Roberto Lauffer, and then, surprising Clete even more, the president of the Argentine Republic appeared in the door and got off. He was followed by Subinspector General Nolasco, el Coronel Martín, and the Reverend Kurt Welner, S.J.
What the hell is he doing here?
Finally, two men in the powder blue uniforms of SAA pilots came through the door. One of them was Capitán Gonzalo Delgano. The other—obviously Delgano’s copilot—he recognized but could not remember his name.
“Cletus, what did you do to your head?” Rawson asked, even before saying “hello” or embracing him.
“Like President George Washington, Señor Presidente, I cannot tell a lie. I passed out as Dorotea was giving birth to our son, and cracked my head on the floor.”
He realized that was the first time he had ever used the term “our son,” and the sound of it produced a strong and unexpected reaction: His eyes watered and his throat tightened.
“When did that happen?” Rawson asked. “The baby. Not your head.”
“Just after noon, sir,” Clete said.
“Well, then, I will be able to say I was among the first to be able to offer my congratulations. How is Dorotea?”
“Very well, sir. Thank you.”
“And I will have the happy privilege of baptizing your son,” Father Welner said.
First things first, right? Sprinkle my son with water before some heathen Episcopalian can get to him?
“I see the Pipers have yet to arrive,” Rawson said.
“Pipers”? What Pipers?
“Excuse me, sir?”
“They should be here by now,” Rawson said. “I ordered el Coronel Pereitra to send them immediately.”
Rawson saw the confusion on Clete’s face and explained to him what had happened, what orders he had issued, and what he hoped would happen.
The Pipers had not arrived when he had finished.
“Well, I don’t intend to stand around here waiting for them; they’ll arrive sooner or later,” Rawson said. “What I think we should do now is send Subinspector General Nolasco to San Martín to deal with el Coronel Perón . . .” He stopped when he saw the look on Nervo’s face.
“If, of course,” Rawson said, more than a little sarcastically, “this meets with General Nervo’s approval. Cletus, you would be surprised at how helpful General Nervo has been. One would think he went to the Military Academy and into the army instead of becoming a simple policeman.”
“Actually, mi general,” Ne
rvo said. “I thought about going to the Military Academy, but I couldn’t. My parents were married.”
Father Welner, Subinspector General Nolasco, Capitáns Lauffer and Delgano, and the copilot whose name—Garcia—Clete suddenly remembered looked horrified.
There was a hushed silence, broken only when Cletus chuckled and then laughed out loud.
“You think that’s funny, Cletus?” Rawson asked, as if torn between indignation and curiosity.