He paused, visibly made up his mind, and then continued: “I said a moment ago that Colonel Frade had flown up from Buenos Aires for the interment of his cousin. I think it germane to tell you that he did so at the controls of a Lockheed Constellation of South American Airways.
“South American Airways, an Argentine corporation, is an OSS asset. Colonel Frade is the airline’s managing director—what we would call the president or chairman of the board. SAA has proved very useful in the discreet movement of people and certain files from Europe to Argentina.
“So I was not surprised when Colonel Frade suggested we use the SAA Constellation he’d flown to Midland to fly from there to Washington, pick up General Magruder and his people, and then fly to here.
“We did so. En route, Colonel Frade informed me that while he would have been happy to provide the aircraft free of charge, he could not do so because of Colonel Juan D. Perón.
“Currently Argentina’s secretary of Labor and Welfare, secretary of War, and vice president, Perón, in Frade’s judgment, is soon to become president of the Argentine Republic.
“He also sits on the board of directors of SAA, where, Frade tells me, he has been ‘making noises’ to the effect that SAA should be an Argentine government entity and not a ‘private capitalistic enterprise,’ especially one he strongly suspects is owned and run by American intelligence by whatever name.
“Frade has so far been able to keep Perón’s hands off SAA, but feels that Perón learning that SAA has been making pro bono, so to speak, flights for the U.S. government would likely permit him to seize SAA now, rather than waiting until he becomes president.
“The OSS funds remaining are just about exhausted, so one of the problems we are going to have to deal wit
h here today is funding SAA so that we can keep it as long as possible. And then decide what to do when, inevitably, and most likely sooner than later, Perón takes it over.
“General Eisenhower, I think I have said everything I have to say right now. Is there anything you wish to add, sir?”
Eisenhower stood. He put a Chesterfield to his lips and his aide-de-camp produced the Zippo. Ike took a deep drag.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “I think I can sum this up in a few words. The exigencies of the current political situation vis-à-vis the Soviets have laid on your shoulders one hell of a burden. I have every confidence that you will successfully deal with it, because I have, as the President does, absolute confidence in Admiral Souers and every officer in this room.” He paused. “Right down to the young captain beside me.” That earned him the chuckles he expected. “And now I hear the summons of the links. Thank you for coming.”
Eisenhower touched Cronley’s shoulder, smiled at him, and then walked out of the room. His aides followed.
The only reason he was here was to make sure everybody knows that what we’re doing has his and Truman’s approval.
Souers waited until the door had closed after Eisenhower, and then said: “A break is in order. There’s coffee and doughnuts in the tearoom, out the door, down the corridor, and turn right. And while you’re drinking your coffee, if you happened to introduce one another, that’d kill two birds with one stone. We’ll reconvene back here in half an hour.” He looked at his watch. “Say at eleven-thirty.”
—
Cronley saw that both Mattingly and Frade were walking toward him.
Jimmy thought that Frade looked just about as impressive in his uniform as Mattingly did in his.
Jesus, he really is a lieutenant colonel. I don’t think I took that in until just now, when I saw him in his Marine Corps uniform.
On the other hand, I really am a captain, and who would have believed that?
I have a hard time believing it, even looking in a mirror.
But Eisenhower called me “captain” and who am I to argue with a five-star?
Mattingly got to him first.
“Be very careful, Captain Cronley, about what you say, and remember the less you say about anything, the better.”
Clete arrived as Jimmy was saying, “Yes, sir.”
Mattingly left, but Clete had either heard what he said or seen the looks on their faces.
“What was that all about?”
“I’m fine, Clete. How about you?”
“Are you? How are you doing?”
Cronley shrugged.