“May I speak freely, mi General?” Martín asked.
“I expect you to, Coronel.”
“There are two types of intelligence agents, Sir. The first kind is sent into a country by a foreign power. His activities are by definition espionage, and can be dealt with in that reference.
“The second is a citizen who is employed by a foreign power to conduct activities against his native country. That is considered treason and can be dealt with in that reference.
“Young Frade falls somewhere between the two. He is an Argentine citizen by birth. He is the great-grandson of General Pueyrredón. He is the son of a prominent Argentine who, had he not been assassinated, most likely would have become President of Argentina. And as you point out, he is the godson of el Coronel Perón, another prominent Argentine. And, finally, as you pointed out, Señor, he rendered considerable service to Argentina during the execution of Outline Blue.
“At the same time, he is a serving officer of the United States Corps of Marines. After distinguished service as a pilot in the Pacific, he was recruited by the OSS to come down here—I am sure because of his father.
“Under the Constitution, which the new government has promised to obey in every detail, a citizen may not be deported. That leaves the alternatives of arresting him and trying him for treason, or eliminating him. I respectfully suggest, Señor, that the government would need clear and convincing proof that Mayor Frade’s actions seriously damaged Argentina before they brought him to trial for treason, and I confess, Sir, that I have nothing—”
“No proof that he was responsible for the assassinations of the Germans, you mean?”
“I have no proof of that, Sir. But even if I did, I respectfully suggest that no jury, much less a military court-martial, would convict Frade for avenging the assassination of his father.”
“So how would you suggest we deal with the problem, Coronel?” Obregon asked.
“Señor, I have no suggestions to make. Frankly, I am glad that the responsibility for the decision is not mine.”
General Obregon looked at Martín for a long time before he spoke. “Tell me about elimination, Martín,” he said finally. “Presumably that’s a last resort?”
“If Señor Frade were to be killed in an automobile accident, Señor, there would be demands for a full and impartial investigation from many quarters. Including, Señor, I would suggest, the office of the President.”
“As well as from el Coronel Perón,” Obregon said. “So elimination is not really an option, is it?”
“I would recommend against it, Sir.”
“Presumably, you have him under surveillance?”
“Of course, Sir.”
“Have you met him?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“I saw him for no more than thirty seconds at Coronel Frade’s funeral. But Coronel Perón has arranged to have me invited to his wedding. Maybe there will be an opportunity then.”
“Yes, Sir.”
General Obregon put his hands behind his back and paced back and forth to the window twice. Then he smiled at Martín.
“Thank you so much, Coronel, for the briefing. I won’t officially be taking up the directorship for several days. But if anything happens, anything you feel should come to my attention, please get in touch immediately.”
“Sí, Señor.”
“And when I do come in, please have the files I asked for ready.”
“Sí, Señor.”
Obregon put out his hand. “I look forward to working with you, Coronel,” he said. Then he reclaimed his hand and came to attention.
Martín realized he was waiting to be saluted. He did so. Obregon returned it, gestured to Mayor Molina to open the door, and then marched out of the room.
[THREE]
Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo