“You mean when President Farrell sent him?”
“—carried with him one thousand blank passports,” Ramos finished.
“How could they possibly know that? Did Cletus Frade tell them?”
“How could Cletus possibly know about it?”
“Then Martín,” Perón said.
General de Brigada Alejandro Bernardo Martín was chief of the Ethical Standards Office of the Argentine Ministry of Defense’s Bureau of Internal Security, the official euphemism for the Argentine intelligence and counterintelligence service.
“Bernardo is very good at what he does,” Ramos said. “I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he knew about the passports. But do I know he told the people at the Circulo Militar? No, I don’t.”
“And what is Nulder alleged to have done with a thousand blank passports?”
“Made them available to Germans whom the Allies—and, if I have to point this out, Argentina is now one of the Allies—are looking for.”
“Anyone who went to the Kriegsschule has friends in the German officer corps. Or have you turned your back on them, too, Eduardo?”
“I turned my back on the Nazis, the SS, among my former Kriegsschule friends once I learned what they had done to the Jews and the Russian prisoners and the Gypsies, et cetera. Even before the SS murdered Jorge.”
“How self-righteous of you.”
“What these people believe, Juan Domingo, is that your man Nulder is not trying to rescue decent German officers from the Allies with these passports, but selling them a way to escape the righteous wrath of the Allies. For his personal enrichment, and possibly yours.”
“And you’re accusing me of that?”
“If I believed you were capable of that, I would be in the Circulo Militar planning when and where you were to be shot, not here trying to save your life. But they believe it.”
“Just who are ‘they’? Do you know who’s involved in this plot to assassinate me?”
“I—we—have our suspicions, but no proof.”
“I presume that Martín is keeping an eye on those you and Farrell—and presumably Martín—suspect?”
“Of course.”
“Isn’t that a case of the fox protecting the chicken coop?”
“I don’t think so,” Ramos said. “More important, Farrell doesn’t think so. Martín is an honorable officer.”
Perón snorted.
“Farrell is sometimes naïve,” he said. “I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Martín knows full well who wants to get me out of the way, and hasn’t arrested them because he hopes they succeed.”
“That’s nonsense, Juan Domingo.”
“Well, what’s your advice, Eduardo? What do I do, sit here waiting to be shot? Or for Farrell to arrest me?”
“The latter. And, in the meantime, try to make peace with these officers.”
“I thought nobody knew who they are?”
“You know who they are,” Ramos said.
“And how am I to make peace with them?”
“For a beginning—you’re not going to like this . . .”