A somewhat battered 1938 Ford station wagon drove up to the airplane, bearing customs and immigration officers. They did not seem at all surprised to see him, which meant that the man in the control tower had not only called them, but told them that a colonel of the Bureau of Internal Security was showing great interest in the aircraft.
The customs and immigration officials saluted him, wordlessly asking for instructions. He returned the salute but said nothing.
The engines died, and a moment later the door in the fuselage opened. Frade was the first person out. “Buenas tardes, mi Coronel,” he said cheerfully. “How nice to see you. Just happened to be at the airfield, right?”
“A pleasant happenstance, Mayor Frade.”
“Oh, really? When I saw you chasing your hat into the grass, I thought perhaps a little bird had told you we were coming.”
“A ‘little bird’?”
“A little bird in Uruguay. A man at Carrasco was fascinated with the airplane, and when I looked at him, I had the strangest feeling that you might know each other.”
“Oh, I think your imagination is running away with you, my friend. Argentina would never station an intelligence officer on someone else’s soil.”
Clete chuckled, and Martín smiled at him. “Did you have a nice flight?”
“Lovely, thank you,” Clete said.
“That’s really a fine airplane. I’ve only seen it before at a distance.”
“I’d be happy to show it you.”
“I’d like that,” Martín said.
Humberto Duarte was the next to step out of the airplane, followed by Dorotéa Mallín and Beth and Marjorie Howell, and finally by Enrico Rodríguez.
“How nice to see you, Señor Duarte,” Martín said.
“What an unexpected pleasure, Coronel,” Humberto said.
“Do you know my fiancée, Colonel? And my cousins?”
“I have not had the pleasure, but I know of Señorita Mallín by reputation.”
“And what reputation would that be?”
“As one of Argentina’s most lovely women.”
“You are too kind, Coronel,” Dorotéa said.
“And these are my cousins, Miss Marjorie and Miss Elizabeth Howell. Beth, Marj, this is Coronel Alejandro Martín.”
“I am enchanted, ladies. Argentina is enriched by your beauty.”
“I think I like you, Colonel,” Beth said, giving him her hand.
“In that case, I am enchanted and delighted.”
“Are you a friend of Clete’s?” Beth asked.
“I like to think so,” Martín said. “And while I have the opportunity, Señorita Mallín, may I offer my very best wishes for your upcoming marriage?”
“And what little bird told you about that?” Clete asked.
“My wife’s sister, actually. She works in the office of the Cardinal Archbishop. It will take place next Saturday, correct?”
“And we look forward to seeing you there, don’t we, darling?” Clete said. “You and Señora Martín.”