river through a high-powered, tripod-mounted binocular, a gift from Cap-tain Sir Bernard Jules-Wiley, Royal Navy, the British Naval Attach‚. Montoya had once joked to el Teniente Coronel Alejandro Bernardo Martin, of whom he was both fond and a little afraid, that if only his office windows looked back to-ward the city, instead of out over the Plate, he could probably peer into high-rise apartment windows and see some of Buenos Aires's most lovely ladies in their unmentionables, or less.
The Admiral, resting his buttocks on his desk, was peering through his Royal Navy binoculars when Mart¡n put his head through the door.
"You sent for me, Sir?"
It was unusual for Montoya to send for him, and that made Mart¡n a little nervous. Normally, Montoya was satisfied with a briefing by Mart¡n whenever he had interesting information to report. Summoning him to his office happened only rarely, usually only when Montoya had a specific question he wanted an-swered, or even more rarely, when he himself came up with something that he thought Mart¡n should know.
What concerned Mart¡n now was that Montoya might somehow have learned of the existence of Outline Blue. On the one hand, this knowledge would make him look like an incompetent for not discovering it himself. On the other hand, it would put in question-with every justification in the world-his loyalty.
Even worse, it was possible that Montoya had learned not only of the exis-tence of Outline Blue, but that Outline Blue was missing, and in consider-able risk of falling into the hands of President Castillo's supporters.
Mart¡n had worked for Almirante Montoya long enough to have a very good idea how his mind worked. He did not have a great deal of respect for Montoya's intelligence. Indeed, he was sometimes capable of demonstrating great stupidity. And yet-like many other senior officers and officials Martin had come to know who were not generously endowed by their maker with brainpower-he frequently demonstrated almost astonishing cunning.
This should not have been surprising-one could not rise to the rank of Almirante without being either highly intelligent or unusually cunning-but in fact it was.
Mart¡n knew Montoya had not made up his mind whether the planned coup d'‚tat would succeed or not. If it succeeded, he wanted to be able to truthfully state that although he could not, of course, have openly supported Frade, Ramirez, Rawson, or any of the others, he had lent what support he could to their noble cause. For example, he had ordered Teniente Coronel Mart¡n not to place any of them under surveillance.
If the coup d'‚tat failed, he wanted to be in a position to truthfully state that he had ordered Teniente Coronel Mart¡n to immediately bring to his attention any evidence whatever suggesting that Frade, Ramirez, or Rawson, or anyone else, was planning a treasonous coup d'‚tat.
The only way he could accomplish this dance was not to ask Mart¡n too many questions. He really did not want to know, Mart¡n understood, that the Grupo de Oficiales Unidos had come up with a plan-Outline Blue-for their coup. Rather, he wanted Mart¡n to approach him and tell him that there was go-ing to be a coup d'‚tat and whether it was going to fail or succeed.
At that point, he could take action.
Mart¡n had not, therefore, informed Almirante Montoya that the plan for Outline Blue existed, or that it was missing and liable to wind up on President Castillo's desk. If he had, that information would almost certainly have been enough to cause Montoya to come down on the side of the present regime.
And finally, if Castillo did know about Outline Blue, and it succeeded even so, Montoya could reasonably argue that under the circumstances he had no choice but to do his duty. And yet in order to assist the coup d'‚tat, he held off doing it as long as he possibly could.
"Ah, Bernardo," the Admiral said. "We don't often see you in uniform."
"I wear it from time to time, mi Almirante, to remind myself that I was once an honest cavalryman."
While that was quite true, it was not the actual reason he was wearing his uniform this morning. He was bound for El Palomar airfield-in fact, if Mon-toya hadn't sent for him, he would already be halfway there-where a light army airplane from Campo de Mayo (The huge Argentine military complex just outside Buenos Aires. In 1943, Campo de Mayo held a Cav-alry Regiment, an Infantry Regiment, and Engineer Battalion, the School for Equitation, the Artillery School, the Military Prison, a number of support units, plus the campus of the Military Academy and the buildings and airfields of what was later to become the Argentine Air Force.) was to pick him up. Questions would almost certainly be asked by some diligent official at El Palomar if an Army air-plane picked up a civilian, and Mart¡n preferred not to call any more attention to himself than was absolutely necessary.
Today, in particular. Though his credentials gave him unquestioned access to any Argentine military base or government-controlled facility, authority to requisition any personnel or equipment he felt necessary to accomplish his du-ties, and almost incidentally authorized him to wear mufti on duty, they also stated that any questions concerning his activities should be directed to the per-sonal attention of el Almirante Francisco de Montoya. He didn't want Montoya to know where he was going, or why.
"You don't think you are anymore?" Montoya challenged jokingly.
"An honest cavalryman, mi Almirante, does not begin his days by asking ladies of the evening the preferences of their last night's patrons."
"Did you really?"
"The agent who was supposed to deal with gathering this information fell ill, and I thought it best not to wait until he recovered."
"And who were the patrons of the ladies?"
"Gradny-Sawz and the visiting German coronel."
"Oddly enough, I called you in here to ask about him. Who is he, and what is he doing here?"
"I don't know much, only that he and Gradny-Sawz are old friends; that Gradny-Sawz moved him out of the Alvear and into his house; and that accord-ing to the ladies, both of them were perfect gentlemen."
"Really?"
"There was champagne, and dancing to phonograph records. Later, Gradny-Sawz's houseman put them into a taxi, generously compensated for their labors."
"And the ladies heard nothing of interest?"
"They were told that Vienna is the most romantic city in the world. Appar-ently, Goltz and Gradny-Sawz knew each other there."