“Her name is Eva Duarte. Blonde. She works at Radio Belgrano.”
“You’re sure about them?”
“Of course, it could be my cynical mind, but the lady has spent the last two nights in the Frade place on Libertador.”
“What do we know about her?”
“Not much. She’s from the country. I’m working on it. All I know now is that she is a very friendly lady if she thinks you can do her any good. You don’t know the name?”
“I’ll check. We’ll exchange notes?”
Nervo nodded.
“Anything else?” Martín asked.
“If you learn anything interesting today?”
“You’ll be the first to know.”
Martín got up and extended his hand to Nervo. Nervo held on to it.
“What would happen if it got out that Perón likes little girls?” he asked.
“Why should it get out? As far as I’m concerned, if it doesn’t endanger the nation’s security…”
“If it got out, who do you think Perón would blame?”
“Well, I would blame you, Santiago, because I’m not going to tell anybody. And I trust the very few of my people who know to keep their mouths shut.”
“It’s something to think about, isn’t it?”
“With a little bit of luck, maybe he’ll marry the blonde.”
“I think if the blonde got out, he’d be in trouble. She is not some virgin of good family.”
“But she’s twenty-something, you said. Maybe that would make the difference between a caballero with an eye for the ladies, and a dirty old man?”
“Interesting question,” Nervo said, and finally let go of Martín’s hand. “Drive slow, mi Coronel. Respect the nation’s laws.”
“How could I do otherwise, with police officers like you on the job?” Martín asked, then walked out of the room.
[FOUR]
El Estudio Privado del Patrón
La Casa Grande
Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo
Near Pila, Buenos Aires Province
1605 18 May 1943
As the Reverend Kurt Welner, S.J., walked through the door with a smile, Cletus Frade began to push himself out of his overstuffed, dark-red leather armchair. The Jesuit motioned for Cletus to stay where he was. The two shook hands, then Welner sat on the edge of another overstuffed, but not matching, leather armchair. This one was smaller, green, and sat closer to the floor.
“Yes, thank you, I will,” he said, reaching for the bottle of Merlot sitting on the low table between the chairs.
“Mi vino es su vino, Padre,” Clete said. “And yes, I think I will have another drop.” He leaned forward and shoved his glass toward the priest, who topped it off.